“I should tell you,” says the games official, “that you can’t actually ask a question so many times that I invent new league rules.”
“But–look. Does the idea that we’re starting the league all over again because some paperwork got misplaced not strike you as just a little bit stupid? Suspicious? Fraudulent?“
“Paperwork is important. Without it, how do we know who won a match?”
“I personally have no problem remembering that. I actually remember who wins our matches before we’ve had them. But what I’m getting at here is–because the paperwork is mysteriously misplaced, the elf coach gets to field a brand new team?”
“He can’t start the season with two dead players, can he?”
“They’re dead because I killed them! I worked very hard to do that!”
“I know, and we appreciate heart and pluck as much as the next multinational corporation. Wasn’t that the whistle just there?”
My teeth grind like keystones on a halfling barbecue smoker, but I make for the stairs. Halfway up I turn and say, “Can I ask you something?”
“I would love that.”
“Wood elves? You’re supposedly impartial–should I be nervous?”
“Normally I’d say yes, that wood elves are formidable adversaries and you should be nervous.” He spits his tobacco. “But for a halfling coach like yourself, I ask this rhetorical question: are wood elves a brisket?“
Continue reading ⟩⟩ “Half Time CH5: Cut Short”
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