The GameMature

A rugged, handsome man had a megaphone in his hand.

"Aaaaaand in one corner," he said in a deep, velvety smooth, irresistible voice. "The guards, who we'll just call Snap, Crackle and Pop. Aaaaaaand in the other-"

A guard snatched the megaphone away from me.

"For the hundredth time, stop playing with the bullhorn!" he yelled.

"Only the third," I said dejectedly.

"James, get your hide over here now!" Phoebe screamed.

I scurried over to our side. Once I got there, I sized up the team of guards on the other side of the court. They were all radically different from each other.

Snap was a tall, wiry sort of guy, with Einstein hair and sunburned skin. He looked more like a scientist than a guard. He also had the most amazing moustache I'd ever seen in my life. I realized I was staring at it for a while. I shook my head to clear it and moved on to the other guards.

Crackle was super-short, maybe five feet, give or take a few inches, and he was pretty stout. His nose looked like it had been broken a few times. He was balding, and had absolutely no facial hair. Not even eyebrows.

Pop was huge. Like, so huge that if he sat on a weighing scale, I'm pretty sure his phone number would have come up. It was a wonder his uniform fit at all. In fact, it barely did, and I could imagine his outfit groaning at the seams. He had a triple, no, a quadruple chin and a flat top you could land a plane on. When he caught me looking at him, he smiled a wide, expansive grin. I could only see one tooth in his mouth.

The guard who had wrestled the megaphone away from me was now speaking into it.

"Let the games begin!" he announced.

The End

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