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The Deadly Hippos Animal Steel Cage Tournament:
Final Four Special
04/04/06
by DJ & JT
To refresh your memory:
Tournament roundup Pt. I
Tournament roundup Pt. II
Tournament roundup Pt. III
Tournament roundup Pt. IV
Tournament roundup Pt. V
Tournament roundup Pt. VI
West Summary
by Staff Reporter DJ
The Western Region had couple of cantankerous canines chomping at the bit in this battle billed as "The Imaginary Tourney Battle Royal of the Century". The winner would make to the coveted Final Four, a feat cherished by few but coveted by hordes. It pitted top seeded Hooch against fifth seeded Tramp. And there was an even bigger prize at stake. Adding fuel to the fire, Lady was put up as an ante. The winner would sire a new generation of Steel Cage Fighters with the sumptuous female, their loins would overflow like the Horn of Plenty, while the others would remain limp and fallow with resignation. The bad blood between them could barely wait to boil over as the bell sounded. The two animals charged ravenously, then paused nose to nose and slowly circled, growling menacingly. Neither one wanted to break eye contact, as this would be seen as a sign of weakness. Then, both catching a whiff of Lady going into heat at the exact same moment, they kicked it into overdrive. The slight of frame Tramp pounced, latching on to Hooch's jowls. The stronger Hooch, shook him off and assumed the position of his favorite style of fighting, The Drunken Monk. Hooch dominated Tramp with endless leg sweeps and ear slaps. A late rally by Tramp was fended off with one final "Porcelain Goddess Punch" by Hooch, his signature move. A subconscious Tramp barely had the coherence to tap out, his spasmodic limbs involuntarily completing the task. "FINISH HIM!!" boomed the voice from above, which was the tourney sponsor, Little Caesar. Hooch stuck a twisting paw into Tramps anus, and grabbed a hold of his spine and yanked it out, turning Tramp inside out revealing his insides to the stunned and shocked crowd. Tourney chairman Clay Travis, face ashen with horror, was speechless afterwords, and could only raise the roof in awe, eyes glazed over as if in a haze of incredulity. After the match, Hooch was unavailable for comment, as his spokesman said he was "balls deep into his new girl Lady gettin' his swerve on".
A stunned and now empty-stomached crowd prepared to watch the next match. And fans, it would not disappoint. Upstart Lorenzo, the 27's cat, seeded 6th, took on Mr. Kitty, the 7th seed. After hearing of the brutality that would await the winner, the 27 gave a chilling prematch speech to Lorenzo, ending it with the phrase, "Git busy livin', or git busy dyin'". The enigmatically concluded speech sparked the feline, as he came out claws bared, fangs glistening with rage. Mr. Kitty, who had been out the night before with loser Alf, and East seed favorite Spuds McKenzie, was still hopped up on catnip and smelled of cheap hookers and was ill prepared for such an outburst. Lorenzo sprang on Mr. Kitty going for the throat as the 27 white knuckled the mesh cage in anticipation. Cage side reporters noticed "REDRUM" tattooed on his knuckles, a new addition since the last match. Mr. Kitty shook off this initial burst of energy and recovered, by grabbing Lorenzo's head and smashing it against the his knee repeatedly to the mantra, "Who's your daddy!", cracking Lorenzo's protective headgear in the process. A dazed and confused Lorenzo slunk back, having never seen the world through non helmeted eyes. Then rage set in. Lorenzo started living, and Mr. Kitty got busy dying. I swore I heard "Chariots of Fire" in the background as Lorenzo flung off the tattered headgear, trampling it on his way to the jugular of Mr. Kitty. Lorenzo ripped into Mr. Kitty's throat like a wolverine on a deer carcass, extracting the artery with the ease of a surgeon and lynching Mr. Kitty with it from the top of the cage. The gentle swaying of Mr. Kitty against the steel cage served as a tapout. Little Caesar, robbed of his chance to order a finishing move with extra vehemence, was flabbergasted with the tactful kill and nodded in appeasement. Mr. Travis, again, resigned to raise the roof, mouth agape in adulation and fear of the young feline who over the course of the tourney has earned the nickname, "Death's Disciple". In the pool of blood accumulated below Mr. Kitty, Lorenzo calmly etched a sketch of "The Vitruvian Man", then pointed a long sanguine stained claw in the direction of Hooch's locker room, then topped it off with a throat slash gesture. Then he and the 27 put on their black hoodies and trolled off the dressing room. You could hear a pin drop.
Lorenzo celebrates after his match, with manager the
27
This sets up a Hooch vs. Lorenzo matchup, a classic dog against cat matchup. Nature couldn't have planned it better. I dare not predict a winner after watching today's events. I have not the energy nor the right to deny one of these magnificent killing machines the right to represent the Western Region and take his shot at the title. HippoNation, the decision is yours....Vote Now.....
East Summary
by Staff Reporter JT
The Eastern Region semifinals featured plenty of blood, sweat, and dog on dog crime. In the opening matchup, Vincent from Lost took on Spuds McKenzie in a battle that ended much closer than many had believed possible. This was most likely due to the fact that Spuds still had a blood alcohol level of .245 at the time of the opening bell as he had been out on a 2 day LSD, Jack Daniels, and Bud Light bender with Victoria Silvstedt, Mr. Kitty, Tony the Tiger, and Lassie. Despite the fact that his opponent was obviously intoxicated, Vincent didn't seem to have any desire to take advantage of the situation as he fought off a nap, licked himself and then scratched his ear for 3 consecutive minutes. It wasn't until Spuds took a big puff off of his Monte Cristo and blew it directly at Vincent that the Lab finally reacted. Mistaking the Cuban cigar smoke for the bizarre black smoke entity which had terrorized him and the other lampooned members of Lost, Vincent was sent into a fit of violent rage. The only problem being that he directed his rage at the cigar smoke instead of Spuds, violently biting at air. At this time Spuds was standing on the corner of the ring, slamming a Bud light and exposing his "red rocket" to those in attendance. It was then that Vincent made a mistake that he would soon regret. "RUFF!" shouted Vincent at Spuds McKenzie, "BARK! RUFF!" Spuds turned slowly towards Vincent, his lost drunken gaze replaced with one of pure, untapped rage, his trademark DMX growl exhaling through his exposed fangs. They charged each other and met in the middle of the ring, the crowd erupting in unison... the promise of death dancing in the air. Vincent was no match for Spuds as he slammed him to the mat aiming his incredible bite force directly at Vincent's jugular. Vincent attempted to block the bite with his paw only to have it severed at the wrist. Spuds then stepped back and removed his dip with what was once Vincent's front left paw then slowly turned towards Vincent with a glare filled with so much hatred that it literally froze him where he lay, causing Vincent to say his first words in English. "What’s wrong with you Dog??? We supposed to be brothers!" cried Vincent in desperation. Spuds stared back at him, a slow smile creeping across his drooling mouth, then he grabbed an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and hammered it sideways through Vincent's skull as the crowd gasped in horror. He then drank the remaining JD slowly dripping from Vincent's maw as he fawned mouth to mouth resuscitation on the now deceased yellow lab. Spuds then said in his best Arnold impersonation, "Didn't you motha tell you Vincent? Alcohol kills!" He then licked his blood and whiskey soaked muzzle, "And it tastes delicious!" Spuds then retired to his locker room in celebration where he had a 42some with the 101 Dalmation sisters.
Human women are no match for 41 dalmation bitches
By the time the second match began the crowd was in a frenzy,
and the juggernaut second matchup of Cringer / Battlecat vs. Bart the Bear was
sure to satisfy their palate for death, and this battle royale did not let them
down. The action was intense from the beginning with Bart entering the arena
wearing a Grim Reaperesque hooded robe to the sounds of the famous Tupac beat
bumping in the background. "I can't deny it I'm a straight rida, you don't
wanna f@*k with me". The tone was set. As the bell rang Bart the Bear was
all business. Living up to his pre-fight declaration to "stop talking about
it and be about it" he wasted no time in attacking an ill prepared Cringer
who was busy purring and nuzzling manager He-Man's taut pectoral muscles. The
sudden attack took Cringer by surprise as his ribcage was exposed to the elements,
a direct result of the vicious swipe from Bart's razor-sharp claws. Cringer
howled in pain and the smell of fresh blood filled the arena. Realizing the
danger Cringer was in, He-Man immediately jumped on Cringer, placing his scantily
clad buttocks directly on the back of the oversized green cat unleashing the
Battlecat. Battlecat struck back in a flurry of green and orange jabs and uppercuts,
sending the Bear stumbling to his corner. Then the music kicked in.... "OH
MY GOD!" screamed Jim Ross from the announcer’s booth, "THAT’S SKELETOR'S
MUSIC!" In a cloud of special effects, the evil skeleton appeared in the
rampway as the crowd roared in approval. "I HAVE THE POWER!" yelled
He-Man as he charged at his arch-nemesis. As He-Man drew closer, Skeletor removed
his disguise showing the world the true man behind the mask.... Chuck Norris.
A devastating roundhouse kick sent He-Man directly to his maker, followed by
Chuck looking towards the steel cage and sending a thumbs up in the direction
of Bart the Bear. The ruse was complete. Battlecat turned back towards the Kodiak
Bear, realizing that he was all alone. It was then that Bart the Bear unleashed
his "spinning star kick" which he had perfected from years of hibernation
spent playing as Chun Li in Street Fighter, decapitating the cat and sealing
his fate. Just like that the match was over, as Bart sat on what was once the
Battlecat's head like a football helmet, with the silent and stunned crowd suddenly
roaring in approval. As they began chanting his name, Bart stared in the direction
of Spuds McKenzie who was busy taking a body shot off of Carmen Electra. Needless
to say, the drunken pitbull was less than impressed.
This sets up a Final 4 showdown that is sure not to disappoint. Finally the
age old question will be answered... if Spuds McKenzie were to fight a bloodthirsty
murderous bear in a steel cage deathmatch, who would win? It is up to you, the
DH faithful, to decide.
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