Current Song: The Punchout Theme
We now take you to the gymnasium of the beautiful Belvue Sanitarium for the ...
FIGHT OF THE FORTNIGHT
In this corner, at a weight of (censored) pounds, well, when derobed (don't ask how we got this information, it's not a pretty story), is The Original Whooping Cough....Neil!!!
And in this puddle of dried sweat, at 16 oz. is...a can of sweet nibblet corn!!!
Let's go and have a word with the contenders before we get down to the semi-involuntary bloodshed...
Announcer: Mr. Neil, you've been described as a very passive fighter in the ring, often waiting for the wrong bell, resting when you're supposed to be fighting, and punching when your opponent is turned getting advice from his manager during the break, how do you think you'll fare tonight?"
Neil: To be honest, I'm a little nervous. They've flown this organic killing machine in from South Dakota. I've heard they spar with wheat thrashers there...well, only once I mean, but just the idea of a group of people who are willing to off themselves in order to be the best fighter possible gives me the willies. Is that the right phrase? "The willies"? That's when you bleed from your pores when you're too nervous to sweat, right? Say, can you validate my parking?"
Announcer: Scathing words from a confident fighter. Will his hubris be his downfall? Only time will tell. Now let's check in with our other pugalist..."
Announcer: Mr...Del Monte...You seem to suffer from the hindrance of being an inanimate object, how will you endure in the ring?"
Can of Corn: ...
Announcer: Well put.
It's certainly too close to call right now, unless the ceiling collapses on one of our starring face mashers, also known as the "Stinger Punch", a favorite of Muhammid Ali's.
With only moments to fight time, will the fighters finish filling out their insurance forms before the bell sounds?
Neil: (looks at watch) OOOOOOHHHHH! Only 4 minutes...! How do you spell HMO? Gender!? I have no time to check for certain! I'll just put something down and make my body conform to it later! Ooooohhh..... (sweats, making ink run on page, futilizing efforts)
Can of Corn: (stands motionless)
Announcer: Well, *some*one's too confident to apply for insurance. This announcer has a feeling this lone canned good has an ace up his sleeve...erm...well, on the underside of his label, at least...
Neil circles around the can prancing sporadically, stopping intermittently to zip his broken zippered fly back up. The Can of Corn just sits there, surveying his opponent, desperately searching for a weakness. (Little does he suspect Neil is majoritively weaknesses.) The first blow! Neil strikes with a mighty haymaker sending the can hurtling into the unwashed and fowl-mouthed crowd. Imbued with a sense of fury, the packaged vegetable comes speeding back with the force only drunken rabble can supply, directly into Neil's cranial softspot! The mighty warrior...um...I mean...the flimsy punch absorber stumbles backwards from the massive wallop. Exposed to the squishiest part of the exposed brain, the can ricochets back onto the soiled mat. The corn can continues to roll, while Neil plummets backwards! I terrific crash can be heard followed by many unprintable yelps of pain and obscenity! The can rolls a victory shuffle, which is cut short by the bell - Not the ring ending bell, but the fire alarm bell! Apparently, the boxing stadium is on fire!! Contractually, neither fighter is allowed to leave the ring, so the fight goes on! Neil dashes for his spit bucket, which is a vintage antique bearing the 1920's feel good motto of "Spit in here". In a daring fit of contempt for the rules, he uses the 12 gallons of accrued spit to douse his smoldering hair, which seems to have the added effect of adding more body and luster to it in the process. The two continues to circle (and roll in a circle around) each other. The sprinklers activate, causing the canvas in the ring to expand and warp like Orson Wells at an all-you-can-eat restaurant! The can dashes wildly on the newly formed incline, flying off the top of a water damaged ramp and uppercutting his opponent!! Dazed, Neil starts singing a slurred version of the HMS Pinafore! Before he can get to the refrain, the round bell chimes! We've all been spared by the bell on this one!
Suffering major head trauma, Neil can no longer move the left side of his body, which is no major hindrance, since he never felt a need to use it in the first place.
The can of corn has sustained a massive dent when it struck the corner of Neil's overly thick skull! Perhaps with years of physical therapy it will once again be able to play the Sousaphone, but in the mean time, it's got *bigger* problem to deal with, and I mean that in the most derogatory way possible, the big oaf!
(Bell tries to chime, but is rusted from the sprinklers, causing sparks to fly, scalding those who paid extra for the "burn to death" section)
Neil wastes no time in tearing directly into the can, even before the round officially begins! That's initiative for you! Unfortunalty for him, the can magnificently stands completely still causing Neil to masterfully trip over it, flying toward the side post, knocking him down! While he strategically drools, the can rolls back, prepared in case Neil is somehow still alive and needs theraputic pummeling! Neil's manager pours scalding oil on him, possibly by accident, as evidenced by his speech of "This'll fix that lazy wino!". Neil pops up with third degree burns that this announcer has never seen the likes of outside of a third world toy factory! Not one to learn from his former mistakes, he trips over the can again! He flops backwards after mashing his head on the carelessly placed spiked microphone in the center of the ring. Why is it spiked you ask? Probably because our lack of forethought knows no bounds! It looks like Neil's finished, as he flops back like a clubbed baby harp seal, and just as cute. But the can's gone AWOL!? Sweet Creamery Butter! NO! The can's been stomped to compost shavings! What's that leaking out?! Creamed Corn!? Oh the Veggie-manity! But Neil seems to be out cold, too! A draw!? The crowd doesn't like this one bit...as evidenced by all of them having left 5 minutes into the first round. With both fighters having incurred bone crushing injury, the chance of a rematch before 15 years of recuperation and mooching off welfare seems unlikely. Let's have a final word with the fighters...well former fighters, I mean...now they're more like lifeless entrails...
Announcer: Mr. Neil, despite all of your sucker punches and loaded gloves, you seemed to be struggling in there for most of...well...you life"
Neil: I'm telling you, I didn't see half of those blows coming. Maybe I shouldn't have a taken a shot of rubbing alcohol before the fight"
Announcer: You know, that's supposed to be used to loosen up you muscles"
Neil: Obviously, Poindexter! Why else would I have drank it?"
Announcer: And now onto the canned corn...say...where did he get to?
Neil: (shoveling a yellow paste into his gullet) I....GULP....dunno
We call that a TKO in the biz...
Well, that ends another pointless invasion into my privacy! Post comments on the fight, such as how great Neil is, how tough he had to be to only get half-beaten to a pulp, and donate money to the Neil Permanent Retirement fund...for...war widows...(shifts eyes)