For Constrained Writing Contest #34 hosted by
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We welcome you back to another edition of "Smashem!" We have a very exciting show for you tonight. Tonight in the house we have "The Hizouse" and "The Bus Pole Twig."
That is correct, Steve. "The Bus Pole Twig" is here tonight and he is the crowd favorite for tonight's show. After his stunning victory over "The Hatchet" last Wednesday when he was able to land the quadcopter drone on top of Hatchet's head and slice him from head to toe with four blades, he was in the headlines. He has got to bring out his best of the best arsenal of tricks in order to overtake his opponent tonight.
"The hizouse," a.k.a. H., stands at a whopping 6'2" and has a well-rounded muscle body, while "The Bus Pole Twig," a.k.a. Twig, is along the height of 5'9" and weighs in at one-hundred pounds, which earned him the name on account of him being just about as slender as a bus pole!
It has been quite a miraculous change for us all within the last few months, Steve. When I go to grab my wife by the pussy, she no longer screams out in pain. She grabbed the frying pan and smack me in the face with it. I didn't feel anything but look at the huge indentation left on my face.
Dan, you alright man? That looks like it should hurt.
Doesn't matter. She can't feel a thing and neither can you. - Steve gets socked in the face with Dan's first. - See nothing happened to you, well except for the blood coming from the lip. That will heal shortly. Let's get back to the match.
The Bus Pole Twig comes out swinging with nails. Oh! A good shot to the arm. It sticks in deep. But, wait! H. fires back with porkypine spikes, which are now stuck in the face of Twig. He stumbles back, catches his balance, and pulls out the spikes while H. pulls out the nail from his arm. Do you see that?!? H. is lifting his arm. Oh! No. This might be the end for the little Twig. The Fitbit Wristband has a heart rate attacker. He wants this match to end early. He is punching in the numbers ... WHAM! Twig let loose his Adidas MiCoach Smart Ball. H.'s leg is torn off at the knee! What a turn of events we have here tonight!
Steve, Twig grew up on the backstreets playing soccer with the local hoodlums, robbers, junkies, womanizers, whores with brothels and Richard Pryer. It was the golden days. Let's not give up on H. to soon. He does have a Ph.D. in chemistry.
And a good thing he does, Dan. He pulled out a table with different chemicals of sorts and is making a sticky substance of some sort. He has all the time in the world because Twig is busy dancing for the fans, and they are eating this up. H. has his concoction made. He grabs his leg, slaps on the sticky substance like you would for laying brick and connects the two pieces of his leg back together. It isn't a perfect fit, but it will do for now. H. looks like he has some of the sticky substance still left in a container. He is lighting it on fire. Oh, MY GOD! He throws it, hitting twig in the back. Flames ignite. What is this? What do we have here? Help from a patron who hoses down Twig's flaming back. This should be illegal.
I'm fact-checking that right now, Steve. Nope. Not illegal since this strange change came about. Hey, why are you sticking me with 5-in-1 Tool Pen?
Because it is legal. Twig has got himself under control. He reaches under the deck and pulls out a Parrot Swing, an x-wing if you ask me. The Parrot Swing is taking flight with the flypad held in Twig's hands. WOW? He grabs his heart. The plane is going down! Twig forgot about the heart-stopping watch. He is going blue in the face, May-day! What is this? LED Pocket Video Projector in the hands of Twig. What is he going to play to stop the Hizouse from finishing the job? ???
Steve, I can't stand this song. My father used to play it while he sat in his comfy chair demanding that we finish the long, long list of chores. Dude, why did you just hit me with a wooden log? My arm is about to fall off.
You can't feel a thing, Dan. Chill out. H. has been just as distracted by the song as you were with your thoughts. Twig pulls out his Philips Norelco Shaver, gets behind H. and starts the shave. Holly Cows... A man skinned alive is not a pretty sight. H. snaps out of his trance and hits Twig in the face with a Game Gold Digital Tracking System. Nothing fancy, just using what is on hand at the moment. Twig is stumbling back. Oh! He slips... into a pool of acid. Holly shit! This crowd is going crazy! There is no way Twig is coming back from that one. The ref holds up the hand of H. and declares him the winner. Wow! So very exciting!
Steve, what are you doing with that beer bottle?
Take it like a man, Dan. Ladies and Gentlemen, be sure to join us, or me with someone else, as we get on with the show "Smashem!" next week on the same channel and at the same time. Stop squirming Dan. This will only take a minute. You won't feel a thing.
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The idea for this piece came not only from the constraint, but also from on old show that used to be on a station that used to play music, MTV. Celebrity Death Match is something I vaguely remember watching when there was nothing else on TV.
