04 January, 2006

Challenge #2, Dance Dance Revolution

I didn't want to do this. I didn't feel right beating a woman, no matter the competition. My dad always taught me to treat chicks with respect.

The challenge was sent though, and my manhood was questioned. Can you believe that? Vampirella and Lt. Commander Oneida dared to question my manliness.

Now, normally, I'm not going to let a couple of women yuck it up at my expense -- even two hot little numbers like them. But I felt that I had something to prove. Oneida's been riding my tail since that time we went out on a date.

Remind me to tell you about that sometime.

So, we're ready to Dance Dance, she's standing on her platform, I on mine. The machine counted down to go and the music started.

I danced my highly-toned butt off, but every time I stole a glance over at my adversary, there she was moving with speed and grace that words cannot describe. The song continued and I stomped on the glowing footpads, but she seemed to be a fraction of a step ahead. As if some mystical force was pushing her on, she stepped and slid and hopped without breaking a sweat.

The song continued and using the cuff of my utility shirt, I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead, Oneida's hair bounced like gossamer held aloft by invisible angels.

I danced. She danced. If we could give a percentage more into the competition, the machine itself would crumble away into a smoking heap.

We were almost done, sweat was pouring from my forehead. Determination and concentration furled Onedia's brow, but she did not sweat. As if she were the personification of some antiperspirant commercial, she refused to let us see her sweat.

I exhaled deeply, I stomped the lights, I danced with as much grace as I could, but with one false move, I stepped on the wrong light. I could not regain my composure and as the song ended, so did my chances at victory.

The song ended, I collapsed onto the railing, she heaved out a gigantic lungful of air and fell backwards into the waiting arms of the many people watching. I crumpled into a heap onto the floor, an exhausted, sweaty mess as Lt. Commander Onedia was raised up onto people's arms.

The crowd began to sing.

"We are the champions, my friend. And We'll keep on fighting 'til the end!"

I looked up with a pained smile. It was close, so close. I looked down at my feet, maybe next time I won't wear combat boots.

Game over.


At 4/1/06 11:11, Blogger Lt. Cmdr Oneida said...

DATE!?! what date? I do remember our trip to the court house for the restraining order, but I wouldn't qualify that as a date.

Good try Hudson, and I have no idea how I managed not to sweat, at all

At 4/1/06 13:35, Blogger Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator said...

You'd be suprised what Hudson calls a "date." He even classified holding a female clown's hair at a circus while she vomited as one.

At 4/1/06 15:54, Anonymous Anonymous said...

okay I wanna hear about the date

that was a great competition

At 4/1/06 16:15, Blogger Lt. Cmdr Oneida said...


At 4/1/06 20:12, Blogger Private Hudson said...

That clown was a hottie!

At 4/1/06 20:19, Blogger Son Goku said...

Hudson did you have to wear your race clothes? that scaed me?


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