Archive for the ‘Sports’ Category

Diary of a Female Bowling Champion by Whitney Balboni

April 11, 2017 Leave a comment

Whitney Balboni (center) with two of her lovely bowling girlfriends.

I’ll never forget the Bowladrome in the Lankville Area Marshlands. That’s where Daddy first took me bowling. I think I was three years old.

Back then, everything was blue with red trashcans at the end of each lane. I’ll never forget those trash cans. People used to throw chipped bowling bowls in them. It was impossible for the attendants to remove the bag. The ball would break right through and roll away, littering the blue carpet with other garbage. I remember Cliff, the manager. He was a little blue, himself. He said, “there just ain’t no trash bag strong enough to handle a 12-pound bowling ball. Wish there was.” I bet Cliff could have used one of those big contractor’s bags that they sell at the Home Tyrant now. But this was back before they had places like the Home Tyrant or the Home Dump or Barlow’s.

Anyway, back then I was in the Lankville Young Female Bowling Association (LYFBA) and I was champion by age 5. Daddy showed me how to put a lot of reverse English on the ball and people couldn’t believe it. Cliff said, “look at that wicked little girl. Kee-rist, she’ll be a champion one day” and then he would go back to spraying the shoes.

One time, Cliff said to Daddy, “I’d like to make little Whitney the mascot here at the Bowladrome. We can put her picture up on the god damn sign.” But Daddy was pretty sly. He asked for a hundred thousand dollars. Cliff threw up all over Daddy then, I’ll never forget it. When he recovered, he said, “don’t come back here. Don’t never come back here. And give me back all those damn award patches we doled out like they was god damn candy. I’m revoking all them.”

Daddy quietly said, “Whitney earned them patches” and we walked out into the parking lot. There was a little store at the end of the strip mall and Daddy said, “let’s get a loaf of bread.” So we did.

The Bowladrome

And that was the end of our time at the Bowladrome.

We started going across the Area Marshlands to the Rose Bowl. It was run by an ex-boxer named Mr. Farmer.

“Mr. Farmer will be better for your career,” my Daddy said. “You now need to enter a higher phase of learning. Bowling will be your life now. There is no need for any further education.”

And so Daddy pulled me out of school and we spent everyday– 9 hours a day, at the Rose Bowl.

It paid off. Even though I couldn’t barely read, I was Junior Champion by age 8. By age 10, I was beating 20 year-olds. By age 12, I was beating 30 year-olds. And only one year after that, I beat a guy who was 54. I had a perfect game that day, my first. I was the Marshland Champion.

“It’s time to travel east into the capital,” Daddy said. “It’s time for the Wheat Triangle Lane Tournament. But let’s get a loaf of bread first.”

Daddy left the car running while he went into the little store. I played the radio for awhile but Daddy didn’t come out. Then, a fat man in an apron came out. He looked around for a while and then he saw me. He came over.

“Is that your Dad that came in for the bread?” he asked.


He sighed deeply.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this but I’m afraid that his arm got caught on the sharp corner of the bread shelf. His arm got torn off completely. Before I noticed, he bled to death.”

I was going to cry but I remembered what Daddy said. “There’s no crying in bowling”. So I showed the man my patch celebrating my first 300 game.

He looked at the sky. “Bowling is a sort of scourge here in the Marshlands,” he said. “That’s why your Daddy got his arm ripped off. Nature was balancing the scale.”

He reached into his pocket and gave me $5. I never knew why.

Diary of a Bowling Champion will continue in future issues.

Behind the Stats with Corn Kernels

August 10, 2015 Leave a comment
By Corn Kernels

By Corn Kernels

It’s that time of year again. Leaves are falling from the trees. An assortment of mums tucked inside pots that look like pumpkins are on sale everywhere for $24.99. Corn maze magnates are busy engineering not-everywhere-you-look kinds of pumpkins like pumpkins distinguished by their thick and sturdy stems, plus polar bears, crystal stars, and Island Cheese. And lucky children don shoulder pads or pom-poms, because Football season is in the air.

Billy begs dad to let him try out for the team. Corn stalks are $3.99 a bunch. Janey comes home after sorting out prepicked pumpkins, which, price-wise, look to be good this year, then locks herself in her décor chamber to work on her splits. Everybody is excited about next weekend’s big game. But what do we really know about football? I’m professional quarterback Corn Kernels, and I’m here to take you Behind the Stats.

We’ll start today by looking at the most misunderstood position in all football: quarterback. And here at Behind the Stats we don’t pull any punches, so let’s get right to it: contrary to popular belief, QB play is irrelevant to team success. Sound crazy? Drive to Ed and Millie Awald’s farm and take a gander at their all-white pumpkins (!) which are good for carving or for displaying on your front steps, and you tell me what’s really crazy. The hard truth is that quarterback play is negatively correlated to team success. Keep that in mind when tallying up your favorite team’s record over the last four seasons.

unnamedAn even greater misunderstanding arises around the role a quarterback’s father plays in team success. Football 101: it is the QB father’s duty to be in the stands, wearing his son’s jersey, showing all the love and support he withheld throughout his daily life. If a wide-open receiver is underthrown by 10 yards, look to the stands: where’s the quarterback’s father, ask yourself? What did he have to do that’s more important than watching his own flesh and blood on game day? Is he drunk? You bet he’s drunk, and making it rain with his son’s money, feeding the pumpkin catapult with whopper after whopper, five dollars a pop, all to impress the farm’s seasonably-employed females. “If only my son had an arm like that,” he’ll quip as the massive rig slings ten-pounders, “Oh now you wanna launch a white pumpkin?,” he’ll ask with a squint. Before they can respond, he’ll pull down his trousers and bend over “how’s this for a white pumpkin?” and he’ll laugh with his upside-down face between his legs like a grinning jack-o’-lantern while all the girls give a playful slap before taking him back behind the goat-mosh. You want to know why his son is just 3-for-11 with two interceptions in the first half? Go and see for yourself. And when you do, tell him all his son ever wanted was for his father to be proud of him. All he ever wanted was for dad to say, “Son, you played a heckuva game, let’s take that hayride you wanted,” and to give a boost and then sit beside him, put his arm around, and say, “Son, I know I don’t say it enough, and I know I’m a tough old bastard, but when I criticize you, or work you over, it’s because I care about you. It’s because I love you, son. And that’s never gonna change no matter what.”

And that’s this week’s X’s and O’s with Corn Kernels! Where we go Behind the Stats.

Oral Histories of Some Former Lankville Pugilists

July 17, 2015 Leave a comment

Gene “Tea-Sipper” Supps (1936-1944, 21W 3L, 12KO)

Gene "Sippin-Tea" Supps, 1938

Gene “Tea-Sipper” Supps, 1938

I really got no memory of how I came to be a fighter. I was born on a mountain and we had this little one-room schoolhouse and it was without fire. And the professor was a little man from over the next mountain and he had a thing about shapes. He wanted us to know all the shapes. “I don’t care if you come out of here with no knowledge at all,” he would say. “Long as you know your shapes.”

So anyways, he was going on about the shapes and then these two men come in and they scanned the room. And the one man, he pointed to me and the other man came and picked me up by the collar. And the next thing I knew, I was on a big gunboat.

And they said, “See if you can lick everyone on this ship.” So, I fought a bunch of ’em in a makeshift ring they had set up including a couple of big Chunkers*.  And the one man, he nodded the whole time and it turned out later that he was the old bare-knuckled fighter Skip Binders.  Skip was with me for my first couple of fights until they cut his head off.

One time, I sipped some tea before a fight.  And one guy said, “Look at that hillbilly.  He’s a tea-sipper.”  And a couple of days later they put that name on a poster and I thought, “Well, that’s that.  It’s on a poster now.”  So, after that, I was always introduced as Gene “Tea-Sipper” Supps.

I won my first five professional fights all by knockout and then I come up against the Moderately-Portlyweight Champion at the time, Buddy Weisko, from the Teets Islands.  Weisko had a funny way of fighting where he’d bend over at the waist so he was looking at your shoes.  I just pounded him on the back until his kidneys gave out and they stopped the fight.  So, I got the Moderately-Portlyweight championship in 1938.

I defended it six times and then I lost it about 1941.  That bout was against Kid Vanilla at Lankville Round Garden.  It was a main event and we followed a big clown show.  I was beating Kid Vanilla on points going through eight rounds.  When I came out for the 9th, I swear to The Ghost that the Kid had something on his gloves.  Next thing I know, I couldn’t see none.  And that was that.  Kid Vanilla pounded me all over the body and then on the chin and I was blind as a bat.  I went down into the ropes and it was all over.

Course, we protested but the commission couldn’t find any wrongdoing.  Years later, when the Kid was dying in the hospital, I went and saw him.  I said, “Kid, you had something on your gloves, didn’t ya?”  He said, “Yeah, I’m sorry Tea-Sipper.  They made me bleach my gloves.”  I thought about that for awhile and then I left but later I came back and punched him in the face.  I think he died a couple of days later.

I retired in 1944.  I haven’t done nothing since.  I mean, nothing.  Just sitting in chairs.  I sit in chairs all the time.

Oral Histories of former pugilists will continue in future issues.

*Derogatory term for those hailing from the Chunk Islands, 125 miles southwest of Lankville.

McLemore to Defend Small Motel Girl Wrestling Title Tonight

June 25, 2015 Leave a comment
Dick Oakes, Jr.

Dick Oakes, Jr.

Small motel girl wrestler Tandy McLemore, who has successfully defended her title six times this past year, will meet the Sensational Xenith in a one-fall finish title match at the El Patio Motel in Capital City tonight.

Tandy McLemore, Champion.

Tandy McLemore, Champion.

Miss McLemore has defeated every small motel girl wrestler of note since acquiring the crown earlier this year. The Sensational Xenith figures to test the champion to the limit tonight and an exciting match is in prospect, with all the hair-pulling, punching and nudity usually in evidence when two members of the deadlier sex collide.

“I don’t think I’ll have too much problem with Xenith,” McLemore noted at a press conference held this morning in the office of the El Patio Motel. “She’s a good [small motel girl] wrestler but she doesn’t have that sixth sense one needs in this game. She tripped over a hassock in her last match– that’s a rookie mistake, we all know it.”

Xenith, either 20 or 35, believes she will win.

“Tandy is a good [small motel girl] wrestler but I’ve studied the films and I believe she can be beaten. If you get her in a corner by a floor lamp, she can’t get out.”

Promoters have asserted that both [small motel girl] wrestlers are virgins.

“Yep, both virgins,” noted Sammy “The Cylinder” Cummings. “Got the papers and everything. They’re in the car though. I’ll get ’em later.”

Cummings wandered off and the interview ended prematurely.

Three one-fall preliminary bouts featuring local bone benders, will complete the program. Tickets still remain although most are limited to standing room against the wall by the bureau.

Registration for Lankville Marathon Now Open!

January 5, 2015 Leave a comment
Sports by Watts Prisinski

Sports by Watts Prisinski

Sweeping vistas of the famous Mud Pits greet you at the start of this race, which rolls downhill into the canyon of the Lankville Animal Hunting and Conservation Area and across a series of pontoon bridges into the Southern Exotic Islands. There you’ll encounter majestic Caramel Dragons, all manner of flora and fauna, and Cousin Billy’s Auto-fetish Sculpture Garden before you climb gently back up into Outer Lankville, crossing the freeway and scampering through quaint village streets as race enthusiasts alternately cheer and taunt you, before closing in on the exciting finish in historic Pondicherry Square.

The freeway will be closed intermittently during the race.

GOOD TO KNOW: Beginning at mile 10, runners wind through “Pork Glitter Alley,” part of the Vitiello Decorative Ham Compound and Emporium, a major marathon sponsor. Decorative Ham workers motivate racers by spraying them with swine fluids and liquid Puffy Soap before releasing buckets of decorative glitter over them just as they emerge from the alley at mile 13.

Artist's rendering of Lankville marathoners moving through "Pork Glitter Alley".

Artist’s rendering of Lankville marathoners moving through “Pork Glitter Alley”.

TIP FROM ASSISTANT TO THE RACE DIRECTOR: The race route will once again traverse The Woods, despite the recent Incident reported by Daily News correspondent Sarah Samways. It was the only way to avoid The Swamp, according to Scooby Drexler of the Committee on Natural Entertainments. Reached at his vacation tent in the Lankville Partial-Ice Regions, historian Glenn Ogilvie adds, “It’s tradition.”

BEEN THERE, FUN THAT: Miles 18-22 can be a bit tedious, according to Deejay Humphrey, who has finished last in the race an unprecedented four times. That is because soon after mile 18, runners must go single-file through a chute where select family members and figures from the past whisper grievances into their ears. “I always break down at mile 21 when Darlene hisses at me about our bad breakup and about how I tried to drive a car into her,” Humphrey admits. Having run that gauntlet, however, racers’ spirits are raised all the more by the site of enthusiasts crowding the course as it funnels into Old Lankville.

Sign up now to ensure your Official Vitiello Decorative Ham Sponsorship Jersey! The Lankville Marathon takes place on April 15, 2015.

The Bowlers of Lankville: A History

December 21, 2014 Leave a comment
By Brock Belvedere

By Brock Belvedere

There is ample evidence of bowling in Lankville (originally known as “rocks”) as far back as the year -64,000. Archaeologists, working in some wet caves, have found wall paintings depicting small men rolling a rock down a rocky lane into some rocks. “They called it “rocks” and later “bowllsing,” said noted historian Glenn Ogilvie of the University of Southern Lankville. “Bowllsing was popular in specific areas of Lankville all the way down to the Lankville Empire. Various emperors promoted the sport and even had lanes in their summer palaces”. Ogilvie suddenly fell out of his chair and died and was then shot.

The history of bowllsing is hard to trace during the Crepuscular Ages (app. +400- +1200) but emerged as a relatively popular pastime during the Lankville Reformation. “There were no religious connotations attached to the slinging of balls into hard shafts, or pins as they later came to be known,” said noted sports historian B.J. Wilkens, who was interviewed while collecting seashells on a local beach. “Therefore, everyone could enjoy the sport. During the Counter-Reformation, the name was changed to “bowling”, for reasons unclear,” Wilkens added.  The historian then continued his collecting (or, at least, what he considered collecting). Really, he was just putting sand in a bucket. When the bucket became overloaded, he would accidentally on purpose drop a great load of it and exclaim loudly, “Why, I’ve gone and dropped some of my seashells!” It was frankly very obvious where this little game of his was going.

"Little Eddie" Browny from an 1845 portrait.

“Little Eddie” Browny from an 1845 portrait.

The first famous Lankville bowler was undoubtedly “Little Eddie” Browny of the Small Lankville Nearby Islands.

Browny rolled the first recorded perfect game in 1827 and compiled a sparkling 288 average over his 15-year career. “My ancestor, “Little Eddie” was a great traveler, introducing the sport of bowling to several distant places like the Outer Depths, the Desert regions and the Big Mystery Savannah,” said distant relative Jean Kittsle, 92, of Eastern Lankville. “We have some of his letters where he talked about its health benefits, how to maximize the use of poor people pin-setting help and possible future innovations.” In his 1842 pamphlet Bowling: 2000, Browny wrote:

“Perspiration upon the hands is a great hindrance to the master bowler. I envision a device wherein cool air might be blown upon the bowler’s hands to relieve this worriment thereby dispensing with the need for powders, oils, and thick greasy compounds. These toiletries might then be kept at home in a convenient bedside drawer where they belong.”

Unfortunately, Browny did not live long enough to see the great spectacle of the first Pan-Lankville Bowling Tournament held in 1879 (Browny was murdered in a tent in 1850). The “Browny” Tournament was won that year by the great William Heins, champion for three consecutive seasons and the author of at least ten perfect games.

Rudy Cheps in 1952.

Rudy Cheps in 1952.

By the 20th-century, bowling became inordinately popular all throughout Lankville. The first true celebrity bowler was the long-time champion Rudy Cheps, who won his first title in 1942 and went undefeated through his retirement in 1955. “I grew up on a farm and I would pass the time rolling hogsheads down hills,” noted Cheps in an interview in 1982. “I got real good at rolling those hogsheads down hills and I think it prepared me for a career in bowling.” Cheps was the first bowler to be featured on television and was a big part of the LBS’ (Lankville Broadcasting System) popular program Commodious World of Sport which began airing in 1952. “I was asked to be on Commodious World of Sport several times and they broadcast a bunch of my games,” said Cheps. “I was interviewed by several notable announcers at the time, traveled all over Lankville, made a lot of money.” Cheps was also known for his enjoyment of the high life. “Yeah, I spent a lot of money, went to all the big shows, all the movie openings, always was one with the ladies. But after awhile, I got tired of the whole scene. You know, you can only jack up so much bare ass before you get tired of it. So, I retired. Went back to the farm.”

Bowling waned in popularity after Cheps’ abandonment of the title. “An enigmatic figure really did not appear after Cheps,” noted Commodious World of Sport reporter Larry Gorman-Thomas. “You had a bunch of nobodies– twenty-some different champs in 15 years. Never gave the public anything to grab a hold of. We stopped broadcasting the sport in 1975 or so.”

In 1982, bowling was removed from the Official Lankville Register of Popular Games. Today, it survives strictly as an amateur entertainment.


December 9, 2014 Leave a comment
By Chandler Crystals

By Chandler Crystals


A crowd of 49,254 saw Dennis Updatables (18-2) top DeWayne Buice (17-4) to capture the 2014 Lankville Lingus Nets Championship at Chambers Company Hand Drill Arena in Western Lankville.

Updatables deposited 27 sacks en route to victory. Buice deposited 24.

Lingus Nets

Updatables deposits one of his 27 sacks en route to victory.

“DeWayne had actually gotten ahead of me a little bit– he had deposited a great number of his Lingus sacks but I noticed that he was short on putting away some of his nets,” commented Updatables who was awarded prize money, food and some hand drills for his victory. “I took that opportunity to fill in some of the decoy holes I had established and rolled two of the smaller size Lingus Balls into the Lingus Hut. By then it was over.”

“He’s a tough opponent,” noted Buice, who fell to 17-4 after the loss. “He’s [sic] has colossal energy out there [on the Lingus Nets court] and it’s hard to match that diabolical, almost satanic level of defense. Yet, his probity is beyond reproach. It’s a conundrum.”


A series of matches at the Kent Motel on the western coast of Lankville have been announced for January.

Shenna Catalay-Sisters will take on “Tara” on January 5th at 11PM in Room 218 (use back stairwell). The Pink Punisher will then battle Shirley Rayford on January 12th at 11PM. Both are virgins and one is foreign.

“These matches are the matches that the institution of Small Motel Girl Wrestling tried to stop,” noted promoter Sammy “The Cylinder” Cummings. “Sometimes, a person has to go through hell to seek salvation,” Cummings added. “These beauties will go through hell and we’ll have a concession stand also.”

Limited seating is available.


Dennis Clean-System

Dennis Clean-System

A 9-year old child made his debut last night in the Lankville Hockey League.

The child, Dennis Clean-System, played two minutes for the Terrifying Bats.

“We’ve been beating the bushes for talent,” said Bats manager Jimmy “Apple Cakes” Quizzler, who watched as his club allowed 7 goals and fell to 2-21.  “Someone told me about this small child, I was drunk, and I signed him up.  That’s pretty much how it happened.”

Moderately exciting LHL action will continue tonight as the Crisply Moving Bisons will take on the Eastern Hill Shaded Copses at Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena.

Today in Small Motel Girl Wrestling

December 2, 2014 Leave a comment
By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

The Horn of Comfy Motel in Breezetown, Eastern Lankville was the sight of a spirited bout last Saturday as two “virgins” took to the carpet. Indeed, the veracity of this claim was doubted by many onlookers and a grumble issued forth from the crowd until promoter Sammy “The Cylinder” Cummings stepped up onto a folding chair and addressed the throng.

“Boys,” he said in his distinctive Northern Hole accent. “These girls are virgins. I have their papers.”

This seemed to pacify the crowd and after a short (and abominable) juggling display, the two virgins made their way into the room.

Sammy "The Cylinder" Cummings: "Boys, I've Got their Papers".

Sammy “The Cylinder” Cummings: Small Motel Girl Wrestling promoter.

“Boys, I’d like to introduce you to Xenith and Flora,” said Cummings, as the beauties positioned themselves on opposite sides of the room. “These girls are two battling virgins who are ready to fight to the death, ready to inflict any and all amount of pain in their quest to be champion. This, boys, is the match that the institution of small motel girl wrestling tried desperately to stop, the match of the year, the match of the century. Also, there are hot dogs available outside.”

At that, Xenith and Flora clinched and the crowd began their rhythmic chanting. The bills flowed freely from the pockets of all attendees as last minute bets were placed and, just as quickly, retracted.

“I knew I had a good chance to win,” Xenith, 19, commented later, once the match had been decided. “I’m much more lithe than Flora– she’s a pretty girl and all but I could tell right away that I was in better shape. I knew if I could get her over by the ottoman, then the match was over. That’s what I aimed for.”

Xenith and Flora, the two virgin small motel girl wrestling wrestlers.

Xenith and Flora, the two virgin small motel girl wrestling wrestlers.

And, indeed, that is exactly how the match of the century ended. After a series of clinches, throwdowns and general hair-pulling, Xenith was able to pin her luckless opponent against the ottoman. “I didn’t see it at all,” Flora, either 17 or 38, said later. “It flipped my legs in the air and I banged my head against that bureau. I was dazed after that.”

Xenith showed all the command of a seasoned motel wrestler in finishing her opponent off. “I pulled her body up a few times for the benefit of the boys and then took that one-piecer off in one movement. Then I got on top of her rear, worked the chin and ears, flipped her over and pounded on the torso a little. Got her weak in the stomach. Sammy called it after that.”

The crowd was, in general pleased. “Yeah, first time for me,” noted onlooker Eroc Hatts of Western Lankville. “I was attracted by the idea that they were virgins. It was light-hearted because of that.”

Hatts was later murdered.

Xenith is now preparing for her next match, set to take place at the Harvest House Inn in Southern Lankville on December 11. She will take on yet another virgin, a mysterious wrestler known only as “The Fabulous Lass” and the crowd is sure to be copious. “I’ve been studying The Lass on film,” noted Xenith, who works as a waitress during the day. “She’s got a couple of gigantic bumpers and I think I can use them against her. I think I can bring her down.”

Wrestling Tonight at Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena

October 22, 2014 Leave a comment
By Watts Prisinski

By Watts Prisinski


Royer Entertainments, Inc. will host a series of wrestling matches tonight at Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena- starting time is 8:15. A series of patriotic pinwheel displays followed by the release of some exquisite doves is scheduled for 7:45.

Mr. Lankville, tonight at Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena.

Mr. Lankville, tonight at Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena.

Tonight’s card features an exciting opening match between “Mr. Lankville” and Phil “TNT” Tapes. It will be the first time the two sworn enemies have tangled since last summer.

“I’m looking forward to it, it’ll be the first time I’ve seen Mr. Lankville live,” noted Royer Entertainments CEO Ric Royer, who will be granted a “Wrestling Leave Night” from the Foontz-Flonnaise Home of Abundant Senselessness to attend the event. “I hope one of the wrestlers dies,” Royer blurted out, before a handler suddenly whisked the enigmatic executive away to a nearby office.

Also on the card tonight will be a tilt between notorious heel Gorilla Filters and Bill “House Show” Crowley, a steel cage match featuring two Outlands wrestlers making their professional debuts and a contest between Ringo Barnaby and “The House Dog” that will take place in a special ring constructed above a gigantic pit of fire.

“We’re hoping for an evening of family fun,” noted a Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena spokesman who refused to be identified.

2,000 tickets were reported as still available at press time.

Balbus TKO’s Lilliquist; Catalay-Sisters KO’s Crispus

August 26, 2014 Leave a comment
By Watts Prisinski Boxing Correspondent

By Watts Prisinski Boxing Correspondent

Lou Balbus, Southern Lankville’s crack amateur Junior Abundantweight, added another impressive victory to his string of ring successes last night when he punched-out a clean decision over rugged Hoddy Lilliquist of the Outlands in the feature scrap of a 32-bout card presented by Chambers Company Hand Drills at the Life Lessons Funeral Home Arena in Capital City.

Lilliquist, a stocky-built boy who held a record of three victories and seven defeats, could not match Balbus’ sharp punching. In the first round, Balbus scored several times with hard punches to the jaw, forehead, eyes, nose, ears, throat, shoulders, elbows and wrists of Lilliquist and had his opponent bleeding, vomiting and gasping for air at the bell.

Experts consider Johnny Catalay-Sisters an up-and-comer.

Experts consider Johnny Catalay-Sisters an up-and-comer.

A hint of the final outcome came in the second when, in a furious exchange, it was Lilliquist who finally gave ground and became trapped by the ropes. Balbus drove home several clean punches to the aforementioned areas again and referee W.W. Tarn finally called the match.

In other highlights, Johnny Catalay-Sisters, a Thickish-Moderateweight from the Lankville Arctic Archipelago, delivered a barrage of blows to Thurman Crispus of the Northern Hole Area who wilted under the furious display after just 46 seconds. Catalay-Sisters, who is now 4-0 with 4 knockouts, is believed to have a bright future in the fistic arts.

“I’m happy with the beatdown I gave Crispies [sic],” said Catalay-Sisters after the bout. “I was studying the film on [Crispus] and I could tell that he had a funny habit of immediately retreating to the corner. Basically, I just hemmed him in and hit him until he fell.”

“Johnny pounded the living Christ out of that rummy, no question about it,” concurred manager Lou “Urgent” Cunningham. “That was no god damn contest.”

The thirty other fights on the card and the failure of the air-conditioning system at Life Lessons Arena made for an excessively long evening for fans of the pugilistic art, who began collapsing in aisles or falling out of their seats. Several deaths were reported.

“There were a lot of garbage fights,” noted fan George Potburn of the Southwestern Desert Area. “There was the midget fight, the two fights where the fighters were obviously drunk or high, the one fight that was announced but where nobody actually showed up but they counted off the time for seven rounds anyway. It was a little ridiculous.”

Potburn was later accidentally drawn up into an air-conditioning vent that suddenly blasted on after the event was concluded.

Judges were Buck Knowles, Ernie Salada, and Mike Blapp. Clunt Davenport was the timekeeper and Steevo Burns the announcer. Dr. Yothers was the attending physician.

Blapp KO’s Mulliniks; Retains Light Portlyweight Crown

August 4, 2014 Leave a comment
By Watts Prisinski Boxing Correspondent

By Watts Prisinski Boxing Correspondent

Mike Blapp slammed home a three-punch combination to knock out challenger Ray Mulliniks in the sixth round last night to retain the Lankville Boxing Association’s Light Portlyweight crown.

The fight took place at Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena before a crowd of 24,258.

Mulliniks, twenty-six years the champion’s senior, was holding his own when the end came.

Mike Blapp prepares to defend his crown in action last night from Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena.

Mike Blapp prepares to defend his crown in action last night from Vitiello Decorative Hams Arena.

Early in the sixth round, Blapp slammed a hook to the body and crashed another to the jaw. The champion then landed 13 consecutive punches and, as Mulliniks began to wobble, finished him off with a left hook, a right hand, and another hook to the head.

“He came out and I could tell it was over,” noted Blapp, who has now successfully defended his title three times. “For one thing, he didn’t have any shoes or trunks on. When I went back to my corner after the first round, I asked my seconds why that was and they said that they must of forgot. He also came out with a gigantic poetry collection under one arm for a couple of rounds and that really hindered his ability to throw any punches.”

“It was a boner on my part,” noted Mulliniks’ manager Wilt Hunter. “We just plum forgot about the shoes and the trunks.  And we forgot about the poetry book. It’s a book Ray likes to read from occasionally and we just all forgot it was there.”

The victory for Blapp, the East Lankville Winds resident, was his 36th against just one defeat. 26 have been by KO. Mulliniks suffered his 10th defeat against 33 victories. The fighters were paid $100,000 (Lankville) and $25,000 (Island) respectively.

In another fight on the card, Jip Pounders (13-2, 9KO) defeated Bob Celestine (2-2, 1KO) in the first round. Celestine, who was recently freed from prison after serving time on a challenge charge, was unable to raise his arms at all and was hit 49 consecutive times before dropping to the canvas.

Why I Wrestle by Ric “Wild Boy” Tipps

February 4, 2014 Leave a comment

By Ric “Wild Boy” Tipps

I attended the Southern Lankville Restrained Gymnasium and later spent two years at University. I learned printmaking and spent all day making stamps. The stamps were for no purpose whatsoever, I just kept making them. The University had to buy little storage boxes for the stamps. Finally, they came in and said that that was enough of the stamps and that I could stop making them or leave. So I left.

I traveled North and it was there that I came into contact with the great old grappler Andy “The Thousand Dollar [Lankville] Man” Lezcano. Andy was really worth about a thousand [Lankville] dollars. He was a gorgeous man with a beautifully-sculpted physique. We strolled arm in arm through the boulevards, discussing great events, the thing about the stamps, theology and also knocking over people. Our favorite was when we could pop an old woman just right with our shoulder, sending her bag of groceries flying into the canal. We were hellions.

Andy and I decided to have a postcard made of us wrestling together– this is the postcard you see represented here. We spent all day picking out our trunks and Andy had his hair dyed. I will never forget the day I answered the phone. “Your postcard is ready, Mr. Tipps,” the man on the other line said. I couldn’t believe it. I just let the phone drop. My mouth was wide open and remained so for hours. Andy came along then and rolled me down to the haute papier in a wagon.

We passed that postcard out everywhere. We took it to men’s clubs, boxing gyms, salons, and billiard halls. It was arranged that we should wrestle there. I was given the sobriquet “Wild Boy” by Andy himself. “Well, you are a little wild, aren’t you boy?” he asked me, licking his lips. I became flushed and commenced with awkwardly making the bed. “Yes, yes, I suppose I am,” I said.

I suppose it was the match at the Lankville Upstairs Center for Activities that really thrust us into the public eye. We wrestled for nigh two hours and brought along special glass vials of fake blood and ooze that we broke open at intervals. By the time the match was over– it was I, indeed who triumphed– both of us were covered in blood and gore. The men were thrilled.

The next day, Brock Belvedere himself had an article about us. For a little while, we made good money on the Small Motel Girl Wrestling circuit– we’d usually spar in a downstairs room. But we couldn’t compete with those girls. The men would wander in and out of our room restlessly, waiting for the main attraction. “We ain’t no second fiddle to these broads,” Andy said one time. “We’re stars. We should be getting top billing.” I agreed but at that moment we were entering a chocolatiers and I felt it best to end the conversation.

Of course, Andy died. It was during a Challenge. That’s all I can bear to remember about it.
I still wrestle. But I experience an exquisite ennui when doing so.

Return to Hoover Island by Dick Oakes, Jr.

January 24, 2014 Leave a comment

By Dick Oakes, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer
File photo

Veteran reporter Dick Oakes, Jr. has returned to Hoover Island to find out more about mysterious business magnate and monarch Aaron Tucker.

For reasons unclear, Tucker has asked me to meet him outside a fenced-in work yard. A comfortable sofa has been placed there; indeed, it appears to have been placed very recently, perhaps in the last few minutes before my arrival. I wait for nearly two hours, listening to the sound of men moving barrels and crates. Occasionally, I look back to see the tip of a large conical object being thrust above the fencing, only to disappear just as quickly. It grows overcast.

Although Tucker does not permit photographs, he did provide this stock image of a (non-nude) King.

Although Tucker does not permit photographs, he did provide this stock image of a (non-nude) King.

Finally, a car pulls up and Tucker motions me into the backseat. It is a strange vehicle like nothing I have ever seen in Lankville and I make a comment.

“Oh yes, all of our cars are made and remain exclusively on Hoover Island,” says Tucker, who is wearing a regal purple chemise, pants roomy in the ass and crotch and a helmet. “They are finely-crafted. Many cross-references are made. It is an extensive process.”

I can’t make any of it out but I know that we are headed to lunch and that Tucker is footing the bill. That’s pretty much all I care about.

We pull up in front of a large hotel. There are fountains with nude statuary. When we reach the lounge, we find several nude patrons. A couple of the waitresses are nude but we don’t get so lucky– ours is fully-clothed.

The nudists of Hoover Island.

The nudists of Hoover Island.

“I know that in Lankville, it is unlikely that you would want to be waited upon by a nude,” says Tucker, as he examines the lavishly-illustrated menu. “I can understand that it might be difficult to make food decisions whilst a pair of bosoms lurk just inches from your face. For us, it is highly ordinary. Why, I have had a waiter’s sack so close to my soup that you wonder how it remains, shall we say, out of the soup. But, these men and women are experts.”

“OK with me if you want a nude waiter,” I comment hopefully.

IT IS DONE,” Tucker thunders in response. Several people turn around in their seats. When they recognize the orator they suddenly stand, bow and applaud. Tucker waves graciously.

“You know,” he begins, piercing a loaf of bread with gusto, “I cannot comprehend the labor problems in your country. Frankly, had I known of such strife, I would not have gone through the effort of purchasing a sports franchise there. The people of Hoover Island want hockey but not at this cost. We find your problems foolish. You are all foolish, sad men, frankly.”

I attempt to explain some of the intricacies of the lockout.

“We do not deal in such irrationalities here. Wearing clothes, for example, is irrational. No one in this room, besides you I presume, is at all offended by that gentleman over there in the booth, his coinpurse resting gently on the red poly-vinyl. Or the good lady in the booth opposite, who, if you look quickly, has one titty resting on the table and one not.” Tucker laughs in a lordly way. “Oh, that has put me in a good humor.”

The food arrives. I had ordered the flounder but instead am brought an enormous lasagna. I feel that I cannot complain– Tucker is watching me carefully. I dig in.

“I will withdraw my franchise before too long,” Tucker announces after a short silence. “The situation grows more intolerable by the day. I don’t think much of your “Inner Hammer” or your Pondicherry.” They are trite men.”

The rest of the meal is eaten in silence, per Tucker’s request.

Part One in a Series

Small Motel Girl Wrestling: Lankville’s Newest Sport?

October 3, 2013 Leave a comment

By Dick Oakes, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer
File Photo

There are times when beauty can penetrate a man’s soul and awake senses which his mind cannot control.  Then, with the sort of helplessness usually reserved for the drawing of a moth toward a flame, he must obey his instincts to possess the wonder which has excited him.  Often, this lust-fueled turmoil is accompanied by the consumption of an alcoholic beverage or perhaps a particularly thick desert.

It is then that the man will find himself attending a small motel wrestling match, Lankville’s newest sport.  He will know upon entering the small hotel room that he has infiltrated a den of unabashed iniquity.  Sweaty, spellbound men form a mean ring around the room– they are all here to be erotically aroused.  A pile of gambled money rests on a battered bureau, pushed into one corner– a squat, brutish thug monitors it from a little stool.  The combatants, beautiful heavily-lipsticked women, suddenly throw open the bathroom door and make their way through the ring of bodies.

At times, bikinis are ripped off and yet, the girls continue to wrestle across the carpet in their nude glory.  The men exhibit a certain sophistication at the proceedings before them– no matter how aroused they become, they will continue to calmly stand and watch the proceedings.  The brutish thug sees to it.  Unfortunately, there is a first time for everything.

It was my third time (strictly for journalistic purposes, you understand).  The matchup was Tara vs. Shayna and they were a little late arriving.  The thug, in an unusually charitable mood, passed out extra bottles of champagne.  The heat was terrible and the windows of the small motel room began to fog up.  “Sorry about the air conditioning boys,” the thug noted, though no further explanation was proffered.  We waited.

There was an engineer there, guy named Harold Martin.  A university man, this was his first slip into the pit of Small Motel Girl Wrestling.   He drank not wisely and admitted that he had eaten nothing all day.  “We had a robot that went off down the hallway and entered a classroom,” he stated quietly.   He loosened his cheap tie.

It was a jolly crowd by the time Tara and Shayna made their way into the ring.  The men lifted their glasses in unison, however the ladies were far too focused on the coming match to notice.  Neither one would state later that they noticed anything strange about the crowd.

The two lithe but busty beauties locked arms immediately.  The clinch went on for some time– swaying back and forth until finally Shayna was able to crush Tara into the carpet, shedding her bikini completely in the process.  The men politely cheered.  The match continued on– the women tore at each other with savage abandon.  Shayna’s bikini suddenly popped off to moderate applause.

It was then that Harold Martin, his shirt torn off to reveal a sunken, hairless chest, jumped into the ring.  “OH NO!” cried the thug, who got up from the stool as quick as his little legs would carry him.  The crowd of men stood stunned as Harold attempted to insinuate himself into the match, only to be viciously beaten by both women.  He seemed to be enjoying the thrashing and the men turned their heads– the sight was sickening.  Finally, the thug and two other men grabbed Harold out by his legs and pushed him up against a far wall.  The match was immediately ended and the hotel room emptied.

“This is what we try to prevent,” said the thug, later.  “Small Motel Girl Wrestling insists upon decorum from the crowd, it INSISTS,” he continued, slamming his fist into his hand.  “You must understand.  This is NOT ACCEPTABLE!”

“What will you do?” I asked.

He thought about this.

“We may have to move Small Motel Girl Wrestling out of the small motel room and into a venue that allows for better protection for our fighters.  That may be the only way.  The future of Small Motel Girl Wrestling depends on it.”

The thug promised a decision within days.

“I’ll need to meet with the other organizers.  Reports will need to be issued.  The commissioner will be consulted.  It’s a process, Dick.”

Stay tuned for updates on the future of Small Motel Girl Wrestling.

Anthropomorphic “Fixin’s” Bar is New Pizzas Mascot

September 3, 2013 Leave a comment

By Salty Cubbes
Sedentary Reporter
File Photo

An anthropomorphic “fixin’s” bar with eyes and a mouth was unveiled today as the new Small Pizzas hockey club mascot, sources are now reporting.

The mascot, known as “Fixin’s”, was instantly popular with the few fans invited to attend the ceremony.

“I loved him.  I thought he was great,” said a fan who was later revealed to be a blathering idiot.  “He had little containers with sauces, pepperonis, different cheeses, veggies– oh, it was just great.  JUST GREAT.”

The fan continued his incessant nattering and the weather outside grew dark and bleak and the atmosphere in the stifling conference room was heavy with something grim and unmentionable.  At the suggestion of authorities, we slowly got the idiot into an elevator, rode down with him as the machine grumbled unwillingly, walked with him outside, feigning interest under deeply forbidding skies and lured him into an unfinished housing community where we were finally able to brain him with some two by fours.

It was a long process after that.  Hail, the size of bottles, commenced falling and we could feel the anger of a maniacal god.  We raced on towards something unseen, towards something unknown, through deep, thick-walled cellars in ancient houses.  We chained ourselves to the stone walls, threw dirt in each other’s faces, trying desperately to excise the demons.  There was no hope for us, though.  We knew it.

When we returned to ground level we could see a redness in the air like nothing that had ever been before.  Someone mentioned that ancient dead races had once spoken of this red but we no longer had computers, nor libraries– only our memories and these grew fainter by the minute.  It was a harried time out there in the red woods. We felt the ground to be soaked in blood.  We saw the monolith.

We are still wandering.

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