I wrote this to mock my smash buddy Todd. Some things you should know about Todd:
*I always fart in Todd's car. He gets really angry about this.
*Todd has a love/hate relationship with smash. He can't stop playing it, but after losing a round he routinely says things like "THIS GAME HURTS MY VERY SOUL"
*Todd always declares that he's "retiring" from smash. He is usually playing again within the hour.
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE SMASH:
"Twas the night before Smash, and all through the mall, the line was winding and waiting for Brawl!
Cardboard Samus was hung in the GameStop with care, In hopes that 12:00 a.m. soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in the store, while visions of Link danced in their heart's core.
And Todd in his flannel, and I in my cap, came in from his car, where I'd near took a crap.
And then from the counter there arose such a clatter, I sprang to the front to see what was the matter.
The Game was for sale! We flew home in a flash, tore open the box and threw in The Smash!
We first played a game, and then five, and ten more, and at twenty I heard an intensely loud "RAWR."
I said, "Todd, what gives? Are you angry you died? Cause it can't be a fart, I ran out on the ride."
But he said not a word starting game twenty one -- I repeated my line, "you ok?" "having fun?"
He gave me a glare and chose Pika again, but I trumped him with Bowser and abuse of the fan.
as you might imagine, this went on for an hour, and with each epic fail he grew more and more sour.
I beat him with Jiggly, I smoked him with Fox, I sent him sky-high seven times with a box.
I destroyed him with Falcon, and trounced him with Ness, and his twelve failed Up B's were embarrassing, I confess.
But the worst for his spirit was the terrible sting of being caught thrice at zero by a home-run swing
And suddenly he stood, his fists clenched, and said "YOUUU!!!!," in a tone he ain't used since the days of Doom II.
His face was aflush, his eyes burned like coal and he shouted, "I HATE YOU, THIS GAME HURTS MY SOUL"
I tried quenching his rage with reason, but no! He wound up his arm for a wand/nunchuck throw.
"The Throw" was a timeless gaming technique, for relieving the stress of an angry geek.
But I said "Todd don't do it, I know that your pissed, but the wii-mote, my friend, is attached at the wrist."
But too late, he let go, and the force of the load threw him out of the window and down to the road.
And yes it was morbid, my thoughts should be tamer, but I confess as he fell, I thought, "wow, what a La . . . I mean Gamer."
But I swear that I heard him, you might call me a liar, call out " Merry SmashDay, and to all, I RETIRE!
"
Happy Smash-Eve Todd, I hope you make it at least a week before retirement. BTW, I'm eating beans and jalapenos for lunch. You're driving.
*I always fart in Todd's car. He gets really angry about this.
*Todd has a love/hate relationship with smash. He can't stop playing it, but after losing a round he routinely says things like "THIS GAME HURTS MY VERY SOUL"
*Todd always declares that he's "retiring" from smash. He is usually playing again within the hour.
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE SMASH:
"Twas the night before Smash, and all through the mall, the line was winding and waiting for Brawl!
Cardboard Samus was hung in the GameStop with care, In hopes that 12:00 a.m. soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in the store, while visions of Link danced in their heart's core.
And Todd in his flannel, and I in my cap, came in from his car, where I'd near took a crap.
And then from the counter there arose such a clatter, I sprang to the front to see what was the matter.
The Game was for sale! We flew home in a flash, tore open the box and threw in The Smash!
We first played a game, and then five, and ten more, and at twenty I heard an intensely loud "RAWR."
I said, "Todd, what gives? Are you angry you died? Cause it can't be a fart, I ran out on the ride."
But he said not a word starting game twenty one -- I repeated my line, "you ok?" "having fun?"
He gave me a glare and chose Pika again, but I trumped him with Bowser and abuse of the fan.
as you might imagine, this went on for an hour, and with each epic fail he grew more and more sour.
I beat him with Jiggly, I smoked him with Fox, I sent him sky-high seven times with a box.
I destroyed him with Falcon, and trounced him with Ness, and his twelve failed Up B's were embarrassing, I confess.
But the worst for his spirit was the terrible sting of being caught thrice at zero by a home-run swing
And suddenly he stood, his fists clenched, and said "YOUUU!!!!," in a tone he ain't used since the days of Doom II.
His face was aflush, his eyes burned like coal and he shouted, "I HATE YOU, THIS GAME HURTS MY SOUL"
I tried quenching his rage with reason, but no! He wound up his arm for a wand/nunchuck throw.
"The Throw" was a timeless gaming technique, for relieving the stress of an angry geek.
But I said "Todd don't do it, I know that your pissed, but the wii-mote, my friend, is attached at the wrist."
But too late, he let go, and the force of the load threw him out of the window and down to the road.
And yes it was morbid, my thoughts should be tamer, but I confess as he fell, I thought, "wow, what a La . . . I mean Gamer."
But I swear that I heard him, you might call me a liar, call out " Merry SmashDay, and to all, I RETIRE!
"Happy Smash-Eve Todd, I hope you make it at least a week before retirement. BTW, I'm eating beans and jalapenos for lunch. You're driving.
