"Argh....my friggin head...,"
Spider-man woke up to the sounds of a roaring crowd and the booming sound of a man's burly voice on a microphone. The last thing he could remember was drinking vodka, lots and lots of vodka. Spider-man rubbed his forehead and tired to focus his eyes, but the lights were too damn bright.
"Jesus Christ, god damn headache...sweet fancy Moses...," mumbled the Spider-Fluff.
Yes, Peter Parker was hungover, and he didn't like it one bit! He managed to get to his feet and stagger over to a nearby mirror in his drunken stupor, he smelled the air, the moldy smell of soiled potatos and grungy sweat socks tickled his senses. Spider-man then projectile vomited into a nearby garbage can. He could vaguely hear a man shout "You're on in five minutes,"
Peter focused his eyes at last, and saw the poster in the locker room he was in.
"Strange man in pajamas Vs. Richard Nixon!
Boxing match of the century!"
Spider-man projectile vomited into the garbage can again, and realized that he had somehow gone back in time, and now is in a boxing match with President Nixon.
"Crap on a crutch, this sucks," Spider-Love thought to himself, "but then again, just how tough could a guy in his 50s be?"
Nixon emerged from a nearby cocoon, and has evolved into a man in a booger suit, yes, a booger suit, Nixon beat his chest vigorously and announced that his favorite pokemon was Bulbasaur.
The five minutes had passed, and Nixon was ready to take on his formidable foe in what most potheads remember as "The Fight of the Century"
Who will prevail? and who will lose and be laughed at for either losing to a guy in his jammies or a senile old fart in a booger suit?
Habeeb ponders these things.
-To be Continued-
Spider-man woke up to the sounds of a roaring crowd and the booming sound of a man's burly voice on a microphone. The last thing he could remember was drinking vodka, lots and lots of vodka. Spider-man rubbed his forehead and tired to focus his eyes, but the lights were too damn bright.
"Jesus Christ, god damn headache...sweet fancy Moses...," mumbled the Spider-Fluff.
Yes, Peter Parker was hungover, and he didn't like it one bit! He managed to get to his feet and stagger over to a nearby mirror in his drunken stupor, he smelled the air, the moldy smell of soiled potatos and grungy sweat socks tickled his senses. Spider-man then projectile vomited into a nearby garbage can. He could vaguely hear a man shout "You're on in five minutes,"
Peter focused his eyes at last, and saw the poster in the locker room he was in.
"Strange man in pajamas Vs. Richard Nixon!
Boxing match of the century!"
Spider-man projectile vomited into the garbage can again, and realized that he had somehow gone back in time, and now is in a boxing match with President Nixon.
"Crap on a crutch, this sucks," Spider-Love thought to himself, "but then again, just how tough could a guy in his 50s be?"
Nixon emerged from a nearby cocoon, and has evolved into a man in a booger suit, yes, a booger suit, Nixon beat his chest vigorously and announced that his favorite pokemon was Bulbasaur.
The five minutes had passed, and Nixon was ready to take on his formidable foe in what most potheads remember as "The Fight of the Century"
Who will prevail? and who will lose and be laughed at for either losing to a guy in his jammies or a senile old fart in a booger suit?
Habeeb ponders these things.
-To be Continued-