Week 7/ Week Seven
After spending nearly two weeks visiting Epstein Island and being sorely disappointed, I am back writing the Brutal Newsletter at the demand of my worshipping followers. Epstein Island was as disappointing as figuring out that the subscribers to the newsletter have nothing better to do with their lives but look to yours truly for entertainment, as they can not provide their own. (The Island is closed by the way, so don't waste your money...)
Team Riggs VS Huge Fuzzyballs
Team Riggs seems to be holding it together this season, but that's about it. Like Duct tape on an airplane wing, the Riggs squad finally failed, and the machine was sent spiraling to the ground. The passengers may have been saved if the two pilots could have figured out who was steering. All will be lost in week 8 as this two headed monster faces the divine Brutal Master. Making out in the cockpit won't keep this plane from crashing.
Huge Fuzzyballs continues with the strategy of getting popcorn during the knockout punch every week. This teams owner, as usual, looked like a deaf guy barely stepping off of a train track right before getting squashed. No one in this league is more surprised when this team wins than the coach. Waking up after a blackout night in Vegas next to a decent looking woman is still satisfying even if you don't remember what happened.
Whiskey Drinkers VS Bear Down
Riding high going into week 7, the Whiskey Drinkers hit the wall like the drunk buddy at the end of a three day trip to Ozzfest. Waking up with no recollection of the show, with the taste of balls in his mouth, this manager realized getting the team too wasted might be a mistake. Always sad to see the fun-loving wasted pack of frat boys with puke all over the Benz daddy loaned them for college. Let's hope this team at least lays off the good stuff long enough to not lose the second seed in the playoffs.
Bear Down has proven to be the Daniel Son of the FFL. Literally sucking ass for the first quarter of the season, this team has perfected the crane kick. With the precision of a successful coke dealer turned financial advisor, this owner escaped prison sex by completely revamping his team. I'm not sure where this will go, but for now, Bear Down's butt hole is safe.
FRESH PRINCE OF HELAIRE VS Numero Uno St John
Fresh Prince rides high on a winning streak of one game in a row this week resembling a contestant winning the blue ribbon at the Special Olympics. This teams manager showed up for week 7 with a new bag of granola, but the standard rice cake lunch, feeling like a champion only to question his own sexual orientation. Beating a sub-par team should only be celebrated if your teams namesake scores more than 13 points.
The taker of this beating was none other than this leagues poo-poo head Numero Uno. This team is likely to continue it's losing streak like a chihuahua with wheels for back legs racing a greyhound. As talented as this owner looked at the beginning of the season, he's starting to resemble a whore who spent her money on meth instead of paying the pimp.
NORTH IDAHO LONEWOLF VS MaT Ice
What the fuck could possibly be said about this game that hasn't been thought already? There is no amount of geriatric jokes in the world that could ease the pain of this owner after the comeback of the season! Holy Crap, Grandpa finally got lost at the fair and ended up in the medical tent eating cotton candy until his handlers fetched him. So sad to see the elderly get picked on...
MaT Ice put on the show of the year! Talk of the week will be how this team pulled a gainer off of a roof during the house party, landed on the trampoline, bouncing into the pool while making a three pointer. No-one will ever pull this off again! A 70+ point deficit going into Sunday evening, with a comeback to win is a "Miracle on MaT Ice" for sure.
Team Mayo DeMaio VS Hotrodda rodda
This only thing I can think of while pondering this game is how fun it would be to watch two homeless, angry, drunk dwarves slap fight on the street over the last bottle of Listerine. In the South corner was Mayo DeMaio who slipped on the vomit on the sidewalk one two many times and lost his shoe throwing him off balance just enough for his opponent to deal a knockout punch.
Hotrodda rodda came out of the North corner flailing wildly with his tiny arms landing blow after blow, but failing to deliver the winner until the very end. Since Midgets only have four fingers, the sad bird this squad tried to flip the loser looked awkward. Thank goodness these two teams squared off this week, I got to laugh so hard I cried.
Team Broundon VS Brutal Master
Team Broundon was the turd that wouldn't flush through most of this game. Swirling around the bowl, the owner wondered what he might have eaten to deserve this affliction of hope every time he pulled the handle. Finally in the end, Team Broundon gave up the ghost to the worshipped Brutal Master by reaching in the swirling mess that is this teams life, and handing the win to his opponent. This team sucks.
Brutal Master took it's rightful spot at the top of the league with a 6-1 record spanking this team with a switch he forced the Broundons to pick out themselves. There is zero doubt around the dealership that this teams owner should be worshipped like the God his appears to be. Please refrain from bowing at this point, there will be plenty of time for that when this teams manager hoists the trophy.
-Brutal Writer
Comments
Post a Comment