In a dastardly predicament for the vaunted and valiant Minnesota Vikings o’er the second to last weekend in the fall harvesting month of October, the vice-like and plague spreading defense has faced a devilish blow when lofty and dashing cornerback Antoineian Winfieldson injured his delicate walking appendage against the Edgar Allen Poe Ravens of the First Colonial States. Hum bug! What shall the team of ruffians and rapscallions do when they exchange fisticuffs with the title touting ovular ball league defenders the Pittsburgian Black Lungs?
The baby faced rookie cornerback from the gladiator city of Athens, Georgia has been brewing and stewing on the parlay day inactive list for quite some time, much to his pubescent chagrin. Yet through diligence and prayers offered to his Christian Lord and everyone’s Royal Purpelian Jesus, the young do-gooder is finally witness to his first opportune on the most grandiose stage of all! With Winfieldson most certainly lapsing into silent snoozes and recuperating his tender phalanges, Wellington Able Allen, the IV, will assuredly be activated against the Black Lungs for this Sontags match up of costumed vigilantes!
“Forsooth! How much more ecstatic could one be when presented the opportunity to don the velvety purple helmet and head to battle with one’s comrades in a critical game that may decide the fate of millions! Tis what one hopes for every day when one rises their noodly noggin from their peaceful slumber and puts on their warrior façade to head into confrontation. By the great boots of Engleking, I salivate o’er this prospect!”
Quite, young man, quite! He is certainly willing and … Able? Guffaw! What a momentous occasion for an infantile lad that can barely maintain a fully bearded face! Yet the young budding flower may find his petals roughed a minute amount in the strong winds of change this week’s end before long. How can one such delicate beast maintain his intensity and tenacity in the face of such strong armed opposition?
“Tis a great challenge to face the finest combatants that our kingly profession can provide. Yet who would I be if I turned my soft cheek untoward from opposition? Who would I be if I nary lifted my finger tips to fight for my brethren? Who would I be if I removed my ivory white hanker chief and tossed it amongst a stadium full of towel wavers in defeat? I would be a female, is who I would be! Nay! I shall not be considered one of the fairer, and vastly weaker may I add, sexes! I will buckle my boot straps tight and tie these battle gloves cinchingly so that my strangle hold on the Far Eastern receiver for the Black Lungs will be virgin tight. No scored downs shall be had against Asher Wellington Able Allen, the IV!”
Delightful! Sir Allen’s confidence is contagious, most clearly! Yet how does senior receiving defender, Antoineian Winfieldson, feel about potentially being replaced by a younger, swifter, more fertile?, Sir Allen?
“Uh … I think it’s fine, I guess. He’s a good kid. He’ll play well this week. But … you guys talk real funny. What’s with that?”
Guffaw! Winfieldson, you are quite the funny bone inciter! Always reliable for a decent chuckle fest. Yet how fortuitous that young Sir Allen has, and will continue, to learn from one of the very grandest position participants in the modern times of our long durationed days. Sir Wellington Able Allen, the IV, realizes this, and most assuredly comprehends the duty placed upon his broad shoulder base.
“I do not take these responsibilities lightly, pamphlet writer. I will respond accordingly and with pride. For glory or naught, I will play until my still beating heart lies broken in the soft grass underfoot. I refuse to let down my diligent followers.”
Most serious, indeed, young squire! And perhaps these padded sporting followers should cheer with the same disregard for physicality. For only then will the horned helmeted band of brothers come home victorious to much cask indulging and rewarding slumber. Cheer on your representatives, good sirs, cheer on! Guffaw! Guffaw!
With special inspirational thanks to Kuzzik! Fast forward to the 1:20 mark for hilarity: