Yonex, Silvestre, Gauche

I had to give it up. Smoking six cigars a day has been killing me, goddamn i love it though. it makes me feel so alive.

this is what briar tung thought to himself as he stubbed out his seventh cigar for the day in an ashtray he'd fashioned from a disused dog bowl that used to belong to his neighbour, Bette Midden. Briar had only two weeks until the Olympics was starting, and he somehow had to conjure up the form to defend his 200m IM title. People nowadays take for granted that he is better than Michael Phelps, but you have to remember, back in 2012 Phelps was gunning for his world record 18th gold medal in this event. Briar gained a mental edge by stubbing his cigar out - the third of the day, if you must know - on Michael Phelps' coach's hand, couple hours before the final. He'd been this close to being thrown out of the games. Anywho, that was all water under the bridge now. Tung and Phelps' coach were married now, even though Burt Oast continued to coach Phelps. Tung kept trying to convince him to convince Phelps to switch to track and field, with only limited success.

briar tung's uncle, bey Barre, was a very, very fat man. even still, he could run the 100m dash in under 11 seconds, and was the one who'd originally turned tung onto sports. hell, if he could win gold at the senior olympics, while smoking a shisha pipe, briar tung could do anything. and he did, much to the delight of people all around the world. he was a modern day tiger woods, someone who really captured the imagination of people large and small. it might have been his cigar habit, people were sick of having idols who were better than them in every way.

Bey Barre was now a commentator with seven olympics. he covered dressage and athletics, plus a little diving here, a little rugby there. man for all seasons, you could say. he would give briar a pep talk just before the final, just in case he hadn't blown the cobwebs out. it went a little like this:

Briar Tung, I stand before you a broken man. The race is over, and you haven't won. You had more talent in your left scrotum than every other competitor in the field, but your concentration let you down. as soon as you lost concentration, you lost technique. you started to worry, and the race was already lost, even though you were a full body length and a half in front.

By this time tung was so worked out he'd yell out - STOP! no!!! to which his uncle would say, oh, why ?you gonna prove me wrong? you gonna prove me wrong?! YOU GONNA PROVE ME WRONG?!?! AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! they'd then each share a quiet hug. and tung was so focused and ready to jump out of his skin the opponent didn't stand a chance. especially if they were rattled by their coach being attacked earlier in the day.

The End