The Synn Boner

 - See this link for title, a famed baseball incident,‘the Merkle Boner’-

Maybe it was the color of the afternoon sky, putrid olive. Or the smell coming from New Jersey’s thousand dumpsites breezing in his encumbered flat. Or the Colts pyjama itching his bones-and-skin frame. Something was off, unwelcoming. Heck, even his beloved inflatable loveress was out of air. Still, going to bed at 4 a.m., after chatting with his turtle DP for the usual hour of zootherapy, Synn was psyched on doing it right. Today, he was going to avenge his painful past experiences. Clean up his name. Put the glow back in glory. ‘Ain’t no one or nothing to come between I and the 3rd round!’ he whispered incessantly, like a zulu mantra. Hang your skin at the front door voodoo gimps! Fumbbl Cup V not only would attest of his salvation. It would become his turf, his white a.. hood, aight?

After warming beans in the can on his one burner stove, he ate, dressed up and went out to the get his daily dose of smokeable vitamins.

Clerk - ‘Anything else with those cigs boy?’

Synn - ‘Yeah, gimme TWO beef jerkies, I wanna feel like a million bucks when I hit the field tonight.’

Clerk - ‘You playing basketball or what?’

Synn - ‘Those days are behind me, pops. Now, I play the Real Deal, BLOOD Bowl, get it old geezer? Here, keep the change, it’ll be for your new hair piece.’

Out strolled bad a.. Synn, the Mangler of the poor, the Denison of Hell, the… He came back to earth in time to remember it was Sunday. He had to call his mother after she went to mass, so she’d come in and do his laundry, clean up his place, rub his back, feed the turtle and give his much deserved weekly pocket money.

At 14:00 his mother showed up, bowing low for being late, the pastor asked for help in washing the church floor and walls, she couldn’t say no, you see, all her bible class girlfriends from when she was a little girl were there, and blablabla... Realizing he was zoning out, he inspected the food she had brought him.

Synn – ‘ Mom, FFS, not the meatloaf again!!! I told you that f..in salt slate makes my blood pressure go to the roof! You know, I got something really important coming up tonight. You want me to misclick a DODGE roll, hun, is THAT what you want?’

Mom – ‘I’m sorry son. I didn’t think. I’ll go to the grocery store and get you two of those frozen pizzas you like so much okay? Or I could give you more money to eat if you prefer.’

Synn – ‘Yeah, you do that. And buy DP some crickets too. He loves those, right, don’t you now champ? Yeah you do, you’re getting all muscled up big fella.’

Mom – ‘Stop talking to that turtle, you’re making me feel invisible’

Synn – ‘ FFS don’t you have some floor to wax, don’t you now? DP is my ally aight!?!??!?’

He sat down before his PC, lit up a smoke (‘Mom, ashtray, over here, FFS!’), flexed his neck muscles, lit up his PC screen and joined the Fumbbl community.

He’d spent most of the next four hours explaining to lower-level coaches how he’d make it to 3rd round in the FC, with skill and strategy. Nevermind the Europeans, those gimps, why explain to the conquered how to conquer, simple maths really. No luck needed when you really understand BB, y’all. Just when his mother was done with her labor, he looked around quickly, leaving her anxious for approval. ‘Okay, it’ll do for now, you can go… Thanks’, offering her a calculated hug, ‘cause one can’t waste energy when the Big Fight is up and coming.

The Avenge Bowl!!

18:00, Fanatic, the foe, the victim, showed up online and invited him to the dance. Synn put on his lucky Expos cap, rolled up his sleeves and struck a pose before the mirror: ‘Who’s the MAN? Yeah, who’s your DADDY?’ He sat back and logged in the game. Not knowing what would await him at the very end.
A sequence of play that would have his tactics, and his mojo bite the dust.

N.B. Big up to Burnalot for inspiration.

Here is the link to the match report and the Turn by Turn summary, enjoy: the Synn Boner!