Two men stroll through to park, one significantly dwarfed, especially in comparison to his rather tall and built friend. As the two men emerge, the taller man’s medals shine brightly against the camouflage uniform he wore, as well as his name badge that read ‘Binch’ – he was definitely a man of the army. His half-midget friend had a slight stomp in his step. His agitation was only calmed by the sweet taste of tobacco, as he took breath after breath into an almost-finished cigarette.
“You idiot Bachi, put that crap out, we got an important game to play”, said Binch, sternly. His voice came from a dark place within him, and came out deep. It resonated into the bones of those he spoke to. He hadn’t been this nervous since his time at war.
“… Man I don’t have time for this rubbish… oooooooohhhhh a rugby game. Man none of these little bitches are going to take me down anyway.” Bachi’s arrogance was not very well received by many people, but Binch was one of the few willing to accept it.
“You damn midget, maybe if you could run for more than 30 seconds without your lungs catching up with you I wouldn’t be worried.”
“What’s your issue man, it’s just a game!”
“Maybe to some, but this is WAR!”, snapped Binch.
“What, alright bro, relax relax, I’m putting it out.” Bachi threw his already finished cigarette onto the ground and waltzed forward, with more of a light spring in his step. Suddenly he seemed happy. Perhaps it was the fact he had an excuse to smash people and get smashed.
The men walk up the hill to the park. The field they saw was rather small. It seemed only fitting for a 4 vs 4 match. The rest of the team was already running onto the field, led by their captain – referred to as ‘The Prop’.
“Hurry the fuck up boys, it’s time to kick some ass!” a medium-sized Portuguese ruffian by the name of Caz had emerged from behind the large breadth of The Prop. The latecomers quickly ran and dropped their bags by the side-line. Bachi had a big smile on his face, like a kid in a candy store. Binch, on the other hand, had post-traumatic stress disorder written all over his face. And that particular face only hardened when he saw what was sitting in the middle of a field.
***
“Look at these chumps, let’s put them in for a treat, eh boys?” A lanky dark male was smirking at the newcomers. These blokes thought they could take over his territory? He ran these streets, he knew these guys had nothing. He had already seen the short man smoking away. The man had clearly underestimated what fitness was required. His team was one player down, but it didn’t phase the captain at all.
“Just calm down there, Bugs, let’s just make it a quick game and wipe them out.” A man whose shoulders gave him the illusion that man could stand square literally, stood by Bugs’ side. “These guys know nothing, they definitely do not know the power of Shima”, he whispered softly into his ear.
Bugs pulled out his signature carrot and took a sizeable chomp out of it. He was so confident and yet on edge. Why did these 4 running onto the field give him an uneasy feel? He didn’t have a good feeling about this game…
“Alright boys, let’s do it for Tottenham!” Bugs strolled forward, followed by his square friend, his right hand man, Meowth. Two other men followed behind, almost lazily. One had the build of a boxer, and for some reason was carrying a basketball onto the field.
“Fucking Wade, put the basketball down.” Bugs was close to cracking it. “How are you meant to run around with a basketball in your hand?”
“Errr… yeah sorry man.” The basketball was rolled off to the side, back with their bags. The team moved onto the field with nothing but a focus of demolition.
***
“What on earth… what the hell is this?” The Prop and the rest of the team looked down at the ball in the middle of the field.
“Guess we’re about to find out”, piped up Bachi.
The three opposing team members had arrived, and it should have been game time. But the team of 4 had a problem with the ball.
“You said we’re playing a game of rugby. What the FUCK is this!?” exclaimed Binch. “WHY THE FUCK WOULD I VOLUNTEER TO PLAY SOCCER?!”
“…. Alright there Binch, just calm down”, replied Bugs in a calm, but smug, tone. “I said ‘football’, alright?”
“Screw your ‘football’, and screw you. I didn’t fight for my country just to have you plebs play soccer in our country!”
“… Alright there Binch…”
“Say ‘Alright there’ one more time, I dare you.”
“… Alright th-“
“VATTT THEEE…”, bellowed Binch. He had gone red in the face. He was not easy to anger, but this all ticked the wrong boxes in his books. He was good to go.
“CRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Everyone covered their ears. Bugs had recoiled, he couldn’t take the frequency. From such a deep voice, he had gone beyond castrati. The frequency was bursting eardrums all around him. Birds around him had flocked away, and a multitude of dogs were running onto the field – no doubt hearing what they believed was a dog whistle.
Meowth seized the opportunity, and picked up the soccer ball. He looked at Binch, his eyes closed as he was shrieked on. A glint in his eyes said it all – he launched the soccer ball right at Binch’s head. *THUD* A king hit with the soccer ball had Binch to the ground, blood gushing out of his nose.
“SHOWTIME!” Bachi had taken two steps forward with his right arm pulled back.
“Easy there, you angry rat.” The Prop put his arm out, holding Bachi back. “Nobody makes a fool out of the Raj like that”.
Fear was in the air from everyone. It was a rare occasion that The Prop used his real name. And on those rare occasions, the story never had a happy ending.