Post by redpiggy on Aug 11, 2011 10:14:26 GMT -5
By Red Fraggle
Okay, okay, not really.
But I bet I got your attention, huh?
Before somebody like that jerk Gobo beats me to making an article, I thought I'd cover the single, most important, funnest (is that a word?) sport EVER.
Oh yeah ... we're talking "Rock Hockey".
Many of you Silly Creatures and whatever else it is you are may not be familiar with Rock Hockey.
If it makes you feel any better, none of us Fraggles understand it either.
Lemme see if I can explain:
There are two goals, one at each end of the field. The idea is to whack a little square pillow (a "rock") into the goal.
Unless it's supposed to go in that hanging basket on the side of the field. You're supposed to dribble the pillow first, but I still don't get what slobbering all over the "rock" does for the game.
Or you get an opening and can bat it across to your friend that keeps staring profoundly at a bunch of stupid little flowers when there are only five more points to go.
Sigh.
Anyway, winning IS possible, and we try to do it as often as possible. I know I do. I wanna be just like my hero, Rock Hockey Hanna. Sure, she's retired (and makes Large Marvin look like the stick-thin World's Oldest ... not that there's anything wrong with a hefty frame, mind you). Sure, I had to learn the VERY hard way that winning isn't everything (of course, by learning when to quit, I kinda sorta won, so I guess winning IS everything!).
This article is dedicated to my hero, who recently went to that Great Rock Hockey Field in the Pond.
Rock Hockey Hanna's first tournament went a little like this:
The score-giver had only three beans left (this was before we started using official markers on strings). He was nearly about to burst from eating all those beans, but giving score was his job, and by the Gorgs, it's an IMPORTANT and SACRED job!
Rock Hockey Hanna, her fur glistening in the light with sweat, her muscles twitching in anticipation, leapt onto the field.
That's right ... I don't care HOW exciting the game was. It was nothing until ... sigh ... Rock Hockey Hanna joined the game.
She wore her paper cap (this was before we had good helmets ... why do you think we use "rock" pillows?) and leafy armor. Her rock hockey stick was just some frail branch she had picked up across the way.
With a deftness that defied description (Mokey is a much better writer than I am, but she hates sports), Rock Hockey Hanna took the "rock" and tossed it into the basket. The forwards tried to get it from her and they did, but it was all part of her master plan. She just whacked the "rock" as it sailed through the air because the forwards couldn't decide which way was "forward". It flew over the other Fraggles' heads like ... like ... like ... like those flying things I saw that one time. The goalie for the other team leapt high into the air to block the "rock" (say THAT three times fast), but it smacked them in the head. The goalie was out cold and the "rock" hadn't quite entered the goal. Everyone just stood around, not quite sure if that was an actual score.
It didn't really matter much, because the score-giver exploded from eating too many beans.
To honor that special score-giver, referees now wear striped shirts, like bars that are designed to keep explosive gases from blowing up the officials and making the entire teams pass out from the stench, which is what happened that one tournament.
Except, of course, Rock Hockey Hanna was left standing at the end of it all. All she did was sniff and shudder, but nothing could easily faze such an amazing athlete.
Rock Hockey Hanna DEFINED "epic". She did. Go look it up in the Fragglepedia. We will never see her like again.
Okay, okay, not really.
But I bet I got your attention, huh?
Before somebody like that jerk Gobo beats me to making an article, I thought I'd cover the single, most important, funnest (is that a word?) sport EVER.
Oh yeah ... we're talking "Rock Hockey".
Many of you Silly Creatures and whatever else it is you are may not be familiar with Rock Hockey.
If it makes you feel any better, none of us Fraggles understand it either.
Lemme see if I can explain:
There are two goals, one at each end of the field. The idea is to whack a little square pillow (a "rock") into the goal.
Unless it's supposed to go in that hanging basket on the side of the field. You're supposed to dribble the pillow first, but I still don't get what slobbering all over the "rock" does for the game.
Or you get an opening and can bat it across to your friend that keeps staring profoundly at a bunch of stupid little flowers when there are only five more points to go.
Sigh.
Anyway, winning IS possible, and we try to do it as often as possible. I know I do. I wanna be just like my hero, Rock Hockey Hanna. Sure, she's retired (and makes Large Marvin look like the stick-thin World's Oldest ... not that there's anything wrong with a hefty frame, mind you). Sure, I had to learn the VERY hard way that winning isn't everything (of course, by learning when to quit, I kinda sorta won, so I guess winning IS everything!).
This article is dedicated to my hero, who recently went to that Great Rock Hockey Field in the Pond.
Rock Hockey Hanna's first tournament went a little like this:
The score-giver had only three beans left (this was before we started using official markers on strings). He was nearly about to burst from eating all those beans, but giving score was his job, and by the Gorgs, it's an IMPORTANT and SACRED job!
Rock Hockey Hanna, her fur glistening in the light with sweat, her muscles twitching in anticipation, leapt onto the field.
That's right ... I don't care HOW exciting the game was. It was nothing until ... sigh ... Rock Hockey Hanna joined the game.
She wore her paper cap (this was before we had good helmets ... why do you think we use "rock" pillows?) and leafy armor. Her rock hockey stick was just some frail branch she had picked up across the way.
With a deftness that defied description (Mokey is a much better writer than I am, but she hates sports), Rock Hockey Hanna took the "rock" and tossed it into the basket. The forwards tried to get it from her and they did, but it was all part of her master plan. She just whacked the "rock" as it sailed through the air because the forwards couldn't decide which way was "forward". It flew over the other Fraggles' heads like ... like ... like ... like those flying things I saw that one time. The goalie for the other team leapt high into the air to block the "rock" (say THAT three times fast), but it smacked them in the head. The goalie was out cold and the "rock" hadn't quite entered the goal. Everyone just stood around, not quite sure if that was an actual score.
It didn't really matter much, because the score-giver exploded from eating too many beans.
To honor that special score-giver, referees now wear striped shirts, like bars that are designed to keep explosive gases from blowing up the officials and making the entire teams pass out from the stench, which is what happened that one tournament.
Except, of course, Rock Hockey Hanna was left standing at the end of it all. All she did was sniff and shudder, but nothing could easily faze such an amazing athlete.
Rock Hockey Hanna DEFINED "epic". She did. Go look it up in the Fragglepedia. We will never see her like again.