"Whatever you do, don't run with scissors," she said. It was the best advice I'd ever gotten. She'd told me right before the big championship. I shook out my arms, limbering up.
Outside, the announcer called out over the loudspeaker, "Here she is... the reigning champion, Lenora Michaels... the Rockinator."
I needed a new nickname. It gave it away. Well, I didn't ONLY use rocks, but I rarely went with paper. I walked out into the arena, my cape billowing behind me in the smoke from the pyrotechnics.
"Her Challenger... Billy the Scissors!" Out he came. He was twice my size, but slower and that could count against him in the ring.
We shook hands. He tried to crush mine. Juvenile.
The referee looked us both in the eyes: "You know the rules. Best two out of three."
The crowd went wild... for some reason... the build-up was their favorite part.
We nodded. A hush fell. I'd studied Billy. I'd watched every competition he'd competed in--even that small one in a bar in Tulsa that I'd found on youtube. I knew his technique down to the muscle twitch.
In my mind, I heard my coach say "Whatever you do... DON'T run with scissors. DON'T!"
The referee yelled out "1-2-3 and..."
Our hands bounced in unison. The crowd screamed.
I boldly covered his rock with my paper. The traditional mockery was fun to go with sometimes.
It could be over that fast. Two rounds.
"1-2-3 and..." the referee shouted.
"BOOOOOO!" the crowd hissed. I held up a hand to still them. In all fairness, scissors did cut paper. I'd gone for the repeat knowing it was taking a chance.
I'd be expected to fall back to scissors this time. Billy would assume that. I knew him... knew what he was thinking.
"1-2-3 and...."
YES! They didn't call me the Rockinator for nothing. My signature move drove the crowd into a frenzy.
This WOULD be it! IT WOULD! I felt it in my bones. He would go with his strength now that he felt backed into a corner. I'd go with mine. I wouldn't run with scissors. I'd run with rock because I WAS the Rockinator.
"1-2-3 and..."
It was over. The crowd picked me up on their shoulders as Billy crumpled to his knees... a broken man. I'd won. Rock SMASHES Scissors!
"Whatever you do, don't run with scissors," she said. It was the best advice I'd ever gotten. She'd told me right before the big championship. I shook out my arms, limbering up.
ReplyDeleteOutside, the announcer called out over the loudspeaker, "Here she is... the reigning champion, Lenora Michaels... the Rockinator."
I needed a new nickname. It gave it away. Well, I didn't ONLY use rocks, but I rarely went with paper. I walked out into the arena, my cape billowing behind me in the smoke from the pyrotechnics.
"Her Challenger... Billy the Scissors!" Out he came. He was twice my size, but slower and that could count against him in the ring.
We shook hands. He tried to crush mine. Juvenile.
The referee looked us both in the eyes: "You know the rules. Best two out of three."
The crowd went wild... for some reason... the build-up was their favorite part.
We nodded. A hush fell. I'd studied Billy. I'd watched every competition he'd competed in--even that small one in a bar in Tulsa that I'd found on youtube. I knew his technique down to the muscle twitch.
In my mind, I heard my coach say "Whatever you do... DON'T run with scissors. DON'T!"
The referee yelled out "1-2-3 and..."
Our hands bounced in unison. The crowd screamed.
I boldly covered his rock with my paper. The traditional mockery was fun to go with sometimes.
It could be over that fast. Two rounds.
"1-2-3 and..." the referee shouted.
"BOOOOOO!" the crowd hissed. I held up a hand to still them. In all fairness, scissors did cut paper. I'd gone for the repeat knowing it was taking a chance.
I'd be expected to fall back to scissors this time. Billy would assume that. I knew him... knew what he was thinking.
"1-2-3 and...."
YES! They didn't call me the Rockinator for nothing. My signature move drove the crowd into a frenzy.
This WOULD be it! IT WOULD! I felt it in my bones. He would go with his strength now that he felt backed into a corner. I'd go with mine. I wouldn't run with scissors. I'd run with rock because I WAS the Rockinator.
"1-2-3 and..."
It was over. The crowd picked me up on their shoulders as Billy crumpled to his knees... a broken man. I'd won. Rock SMASHES Scissors!
Cute, I like the idea of arena rochambeau.
ReplyDeleteLOL, good one, Wendy!
ReplyDelete