Elect Your Glorious Leader! (III - SECOND ROUND!)
Originally Posted by Flinn
Are we going to organize a "last man standing" tournament in case of evens? Please tell me that it will be so...
Due to errr.. internal struggles in the MA committee I'm used to organize such tournaments; weapons are usually deadly tools like slippers, brooms, strainers, toilet brushes and in general any other kind of weapon that it will take ages to kill (on the logic: the longer the assault, the more the pain!)
The organizer was eventually found, drunk and buried half-naked in a pile of rubble. By then, the crowd had grown restless, as the two remaining contenders - bloodied and wounded - paced back and forth inside the ring, jeering and making crude gestures at each other. Abstain had been found lurking around somewhere, as the grotesquely incompetent organizer had forgotten to invite him to the first round, but he didn't really care either way what happened in the second one. It had been a nail-biting struggle thus far. The Don and the Shogun, new candidates, had made valiant efforts, but had eventually been repulsed and forced out of the ring. In fact, The Don was handicapped by a nasty hangover as a result of a tequila-fuelled celebration for having offed a rival drug baron the previous night. Despite stating to be an ally of the Church of Meloncat, he had been subsequently placed in the awkward position of being branded a heretic by their Pope. As for the Stone Cold Shogun, he had unfortunately had to deal with insurrection on his own turf, with the venerable Beer Thread launching a revolt in indignation at his patronage of piss (politely known by some as Bud Light). The Dark Lord, returning for a second challenge, deployed all of his ruses, dark arts and danker (albeit dated) memes, but was eventually silenced. And so it was that Diamat, the flamboyant Pope of the Church of Meloncat who had already ruled the realm for a year, faced off against an unexpectedly powerful challenge from the anarchist Spokesman of the people, mishkin. The former was armed with a lethally overripe banana, the latter, a menacing Pop-up-Pirate set (swords 42% inserted). Little could make the two more different to one-another. Only one thing was certain - the second round would be witness to scenes of unusually horrific violence. What would be the outcome?
The mob, having found the organizer, were only just prevented from putting a bullet in his brain for the unjustified delay by the ever-vigilant navy-clad Gendarmerie. He was then dragged back to the ring, sobered up with a splash of warm urine to the face, and made to present this speech at pisspoint. The spectators had meanwhile organized themselves into supporters of either claimant and begun a gentlemanly pre-bout discussion. Now all that was left was to begin the final death match to determine who would take the THIRD term as ruler of Thema Devia!!!
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