Waldo couldn't believe his thighs. In the clearing was the world's craziest and most outrageous tribe of pygmy wallabies playing the world's craziest and most outrageous game of foosball. A pit of the dead was dug into the side of the makeshift playing-field, overflowing and stinking with the rot of the game's casualties. The remaining players were bloodied and weary, as if their most cursed tribe had been playing that fateful game for centuries without cease. On the side opposite the heap of decomposing flesh, three old women sat in lawn chairs, waving pennants and pom poms. The kids were at the playground making love.
"Gadzooks!" Waldo exclaimed in a fit of whimsy. Not satisfied with one shocked exclamation, he continued. "Pontoon! Sprinkles! Pockmarks! Blunt! Lunkheads!" The curious pygmy wallabies finally noticed the commotion being made in the underbrush. One bearded native picked up his spear and began to charge at Waldo.
"Balls," Waldo said.
Captured by the dangerous, aboriginal pygmy-marsupials, who were for some reason dwelling in the forests of England playing a real-life version of a tabletop bar-game, Waldo dragged his bound and gagged body to the side of the field. Meanwhile, the wallabies held a scrum over the fleshpit, presumably to decide Waldo's fate.
After chewing through his gag, which was luckily made of scrumptious fruit-roll-ups, Waldo began his attempt to gather information from the elderly women. Through these vile, old bags of bones, Waldo discovered that the pygmy wallabies had sailed to England from Australia in 1987, after the Nutty Boomerang Recession of 1986. Having been personally affected by the very same tragedy, Waldo understood all too well.
It turned out that the foosball game had been going on since the day of the pygmies' arrival. One sect of pygmies wanted to become peaceful farmers, while the other wanted to become bloodthirsty, lesbian vampires, hell-bent on destroying mankind and opening the first wallaby web portal on the World Wide Web. When asked where the first faction of wallabies planned on farming, the women explained: "Where there are cows."
"Where there are cows?" Waldo incredulously queried in wonderment. "But here there are no cows."
"No, not anymore," the hags cackled. Waldo surmised that the localized extinction of the pygmies' livestock should have solved the entire quarrel, but the wenches explained to Waldo that the game had become more than simply a decision-maker. This foosball was a game of pride. It was a game of honor. It was a game that must be completed. The current score was four to four, and none but a single goal would tip the scale to a victory. Nobody had scored in sixteen years.
"Waldo Wallington: please rise!"
Shocked by this unexpected command, Waldo turned around to see the tribe's chief glaring at him. Waldo easily slipped out of his lousy shackles and stood at attention.
The chief began his proclamation. "Waldo of Blokesfordshire, son of Randy: much discussion and debate has been discussed and debated. It is the opinion of this high council that you are the stupidest fuckface we have seen in our many years of existence. We therefore declare that you must heretofore join us in our kamikaze game of foosball until its ultimation." A cold shiver shuddered down Waldo's spine. "Any attempt of escape will be met with a long and painful death...by anal rape. Any questions?"
A pygmy amongst the crowd raised his hand excitedly, jumping about like an excited, suck-up, know-it-all third-grader that always had to raise his hand with gusto to show everybody else how smart he was, that fucking twat I hate him.
"Boyle, what do you want?" the chief rolled his eyes.
"Simply to be the executioner, my bulbous and most washboard-abbed lord!" Boyle orgasmed.
"Fair enough," the chief concluded after a brief moment of reflection. "Any attempt of escape will be met with a long and painful death by anal rape, administered by Boyle the Gay, our most honorable and flamboyant prime minister."
With the die cast against him, Waldo began to play. He played and he played. He played until he couldn't possibly play any longer, and then he played some more. The pygmies, originally exhausted from their decades-long battle, were inspired by the strength and exuberance exuded from Waldo's brave, little meatheart. The newly energized wallabies attacked at full force, and Waldo found himself secured in pygmy legend after many epic battles.
|The epic battles|
And then, finally, one fateful day, eight years later, Waldo scored. He charged through the ramparts that had previously proved to be impenetrable, and he threw that foosball. He threw that foosball like there was no tomorrow. Victory was had, and the entire civilization of wallaby-kind moved to the Silicon Valley to practice the fine arts of lesbianism and vampirism. Waldo Wallington was hailed as a hero, and even today he is welcomed warmly amongst their kind.
|Taking matters into his own hands|
After a three-hour nap, Waldo was ready to resume his journey. Where the fuck is Waldo? What is in store for him next? Not to mention Frederick! All this and more on the next exciting installment!