I may misspell. I may use improper grammar. Either way, I will tell of what I saw. I saw... bore whitness to, to be more epically appropriate, a depiction of monsterous gangstrosity that carried so much raw, uncut Fonzarelli that Im surprised I dont set off hair grease detectors, just by having been within eye-shot of it unfolding. It starts on an average Sat night at any given IPA bar in the quaint fishing village of Songtan RoK. There is a fellow standing amongst his friends, casually enjoying the beratement that often accompanies good-natured competition. Soft-tip darts, in this case, being no different. This young man, a dashing fellow in his late twenties carries no outward swagger that one might expect from such a social force. No, he is the ninja, casual and unassuming, slipping in and out leaving only the question in the minds of those nimble enough to catch a blur or a shadow as he rounds the corner and vanishes. Did that really just happen? Did you see that? Are my eyes playing tricks on my brain meat? This unassuning ninja dressed not in disguise, but as a mere man, we shall call hense forth Travis J. Poore, and his epic tale if ninjastitude is as follows: Losing in a game of soft-tip darts, this Travis draws upon his mighty powers to appear rattled by his opponents slander as she hands him the darts for what she refers to as a feable attempt to surmount the seemingly foregon conclusion of her victory. This opponent, we shall call her... Stephanie. Yes! Stephanie Ellis... she brazenly offers her total lack of regard and further questions his own confidence in his ability to execute. He has three darts left until the game is over, and he needs two... yes... two bulls-eyes for this victory. He draws what seemed to be the bodily equivelent of a tattered bow back to firing position. Its a shakey pitch of a dart... noone was surprised when we saw that it had missed its mark, and in case anyone didnt catch it, miss Stephanie was more than happy... just tickled pink in fact, to regail them with the broad strokes of the story, bursting with histerical laughter between pained words. Undaunted, our hero steps to the line again, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, eyes widened and dialated focusing intently on the impossibly small target that seems at this point to have been moved back somehow to a mockingly unencroachable distance. With tangible anxiety billowing out from every pore, he again dials back and set free the second of the three chances at victory. A silent breathless moment passes in time when even the singer on the jukebox holds his words in consuming awe of the competition. And as the dart strikes the board, the force behind the voices bursts through and floods the room with a disappointmemt so bitter, the crowd seemes to taste it on their tongues as it strikes their ears. He had yet failed to meet his objective. The delighted Stephanie then calls to him in a faciciously comfirting tone Its ok Poore. Maybe darts just isnt your game. Or maybe you should just challenge someone closer to your level... maybe someone with no thumbs. Or someone with no eyes! She seems pleased, as I would be... gloating in my soon to be champion status. Victory is afterall, a warm blanket protecting us from the cold of affliction. And yet, despite her war cries, the young Mr. Poore decides that the act has run its course. He calls back to Stephanie who is presently celebrating with rapturous abandon. Travis, who is now wearing the SHIT out of the blue leather Eddy Murphy jump suit... not a replica... THE jumpsuit, flashes a knowing smile and a literal twinkle in his eye... the right one, and says in the soothing calm tone I might only describe as Barry White-esque, something to the effect of... no eyes huh? Here you go Stephanie. This is how its done, and while not taking his eyes off of her, facing completely away from the board, delivers the subtle poetry of life in motion. And in the full 2 minutes that this dart was soaring through the air, faintly playing G&Rs Paradise City in its wake, the crowd was mezmorized... fixated on this beautiful dart, thrown so masterfully that it changed into a magnificent butterfly, flittering color and gently tossing beads of edible happiness to men and women alike, before transforming again, into a dragon eating popcorn and winking at everybody elses girlfriends, before settling itself, once again in dart form, in the center of the DOUBLE BULLS-EYE! And when we looked back... he was gone. The faint scent of gunpowder accompanied the puff of smoke he left behind. That is Travis J. Poore. After witnessing that, I felt the need to harness that inspiration, so I did. I fixed the ozone. But dont thank me. Thank that dapper Eddy Murphy leather suit wearing, transforming dart throwing poet of humanity that everyone wants to meet, but so few can because hes half shadow and half ninja... and half legend... Travis J. Poore!
Posted on: Sun, 25 May 2014 16:55:44 +0000
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