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Criminal Athletes Tournament of Death
Midwest Bracket: First Round Results; Second Round Preview
03/22/07
by DJ

Midwest Bracket, as it stands now:

1 Maurice Clarett Vs 4 Eddie Griffin

The sound of Teflon vest Velcro being adjusted and re-adjusted bounced around an empty and cold locker room.

“Ten minutes until showtime,” Clarett thought, eyeing his National Championship ring - now devoid of diamonds or anything else of negligible value. He polished off the last of his Grey Goose... drip, drip, drip, drip, drip... the sound was barely noticed by the hammered ex-RB... drip, drip, plop, plop.... It was Eddie Griffin’s KY Jelly, the heated kind, and he was going to work on himself in the airshaft above Clarett. Previously planning on jumping him by surprise in his locker room, he became distracted by two Black Widow spiders mating in the airshaft. All the movement caused the shaft to burst open, pouring its contents atop Clarett, dazing him for an instant. Griffin fumbled for has pistol but his hands were too slick, allowing Clarett enough time to come to his senses. Bewildered and angered, a demonic grin formed on his face. It was kill season, and better yet, his prey had come right to him. Foregoing the usual call he makes to ESPN before his corroded capers, he turned off his cell phone. He didn’t want to be disturbed, and he didn’t like big crowds anyway. Griffin ran for the door, but couldn’t grasp the doorknob enough to turn it. “NNNNNOOOO!!!!!” he screamed, too delirious with fear to know whether it came from his mouth or mind. It got dark behind him as Clarett bore down upon him, eyes glazed over with malcontent. Palming Griffin’s head like a basketball, he grated it across the face of the grilled locker door causing his flesh to drop off like fresh Gouda on a tossed salad. Griffin begins to pass out....

When he awakens he is sitting in a chair tied in straight jacket form by something, while Clarett sits across from him puffing on a Cuban cigar stub. As lucidity finally re-enters Griffin he realizes he is tied to the chair with his own arms, wrists tied neatly in a fisherman’s knot. “Please scream. Please beg for your life,” Clarett calmly implored. Griffin more than obliged with his self-degrading shrills. It was hatchet and blowtorch time. Clarett calmly unscrewed the single dangling light bulb and put on his night vision glasses. Using his best Howard Cosell voice he narrated his ghastly deeds in progress… Outside, the crowd of spectators began to file out of the arena, angry at the apparent no show. Then the lights dim, flicker, and then go out for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly, a spotlight focused onto a spectacle in the middle of the arena floor. The onlookers focus then erupt in cheers as they see what it is: Griffin’s charred and dismembered body, reduced to a smoldering, bubbling maw with a sign that reads merely “Clarett Advances”.

2 Lawrence Philips Vs 3 Tonya Harding

This match was an upset special, picked by all the CATD gurus. But Philips came in so focused on doing what he does best: beating a woman senseless. Even if this thing, this mound of amoebic pale flesh across the ring from him hardly resembled a chick anymore. But she would have to do. He would make it work.
On the other side of the ring, Harding was getting focused as well. Downing her 18th protein shake of the day, she stood and came nose to nose with her foe in the center of the ring. As the bell rang Philips began he patented “Choke-Till-Purple, Rinse-And-Repeat” move. But Harding’s neck was so fat he couldn’t get a grip. A head-butt to the bridge of his nose was Harding’s response. Confused and afraid at the first time a woman had ever retaliated, he stumbled around the arena with his face spurting like an open fire hydrant. Putting her old ice skates on her hands as boxing gloves, she went to work on him like a surgeon. Every jab found its mark; every hook brought her closer to victory. Philips blindly swung at her, but by now he was just treading water. “Finish him! Finish him!” the crowd chanted. As he stood there dazed, waiting for merciful death to come, Harding raised her arm to suffocate him in her arm flab. Suddenly, her face turned purple and she gasped for air, sputtering saliva thick as salve from her mouth. Her heart had given out. All that weight had overburdened her ticker; it was like a hamster running on a wheel trying to power NY City. Her great weight fell to the earth, eliminating her from the tourney. An embarrassed Philips won by default. As boos cascaded upon him, he ran from the arena, somehow living to fight another day. Barely, but barely, Philips advances…

Round 2 Preview

The top seeds advance so its Clarett against Philips in the Midwest finals. Philips backed into the game shamefully in stark contrast to Clarett’s tour de force performance. All signs point towards Clarett destroying Philips in the next game. His eviscerating of Griffin was flawless and impeccable. Philips won without even landing a blow, shaming himself in the process. But that’s where your votes come in…get to voting….

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