It is the day of the championship game. You and the team breezed through the season and dominated the first weeks of the Tournament. You and Moods have formed a deadly yack combination that has been all but unstoppable.
Off the field, the team’s trailblazing NIL deal has made headlines. The big story in Full Contact College Squabbling revolves around your team’s wild new sartorial image. You, Moods, and even Coach Mansz, who has taken to wearing enormously oversized and heavily strapped and zippered pants that have occasionally involved him in some embarrassing sideline snare incidents, posed on the cover of a minor fashion magazine. A sports shouting program has been referring to Mump as the “Prince of Pants.” This has not been a distraction. In fact, you sort of like the attention. The team has leaned into the controversy and it has given you confidence.
But your opponent has taken notice and tried to fan the flames. They knocked you out of the quarter finals last year and have the consensus top barker in the country Duave “Mincemeat” Mranczmott. Their coach Tedd Gobblicker has decided to make this entire tournament a reference on pants and pants sponsorships. To that end, they have all gotten identical bowl haircuts and dress in the same gray sweatsuit everywhere at all times. All of them have been shouting their motto for tournament “passion vs. fashion” and Mincemeat has been photographed using a back-to-the-basics log-focused training regimen. You despise him.
The game starts poorly. You fall behind while Mincemeat taunts you about “pantaloons” and “breeches.” It seems like his rustic training shack cam with a thesaurus.
You and Moods, though, have not folded. You lead a comeback. Eddie Tufetti scores on his “Wolfman’s Repose,” which, contrary to all of his other werewolf schtick, turns out to have become one of the most effective moves in squabbling this year. But it appears to be too little too late.
As the clock dwindles, Mincemeat turns once more to yell at you about “trews” which you only later find out is a pants synonym from the back of the thesaurus, but while he is gleefully looking at other pants insults that he has written on his forearm, he has turned his back. The game is not over. You seize the opportunity, and with the last seconds dripping off the game clock, you execute a sordid belch. Mincemeat sinks to his knees. You’ve done it! You’ve won the championship!
“Pants!” you scream into Mincemeat’s face as sobs into his gray tracksuit.
Moods comes running up to you and picks you up. After everything the two of you had been through together, you can’t believe this has happened. You just keep screaming “DUDE” at each other through a rain of confetti. Coach Mansz has been doused with a sports drink, and is running around triumphantly whacking the bleachers when he accidentally disturbs a bees nest and is chased around the stadium by swarm attracted by the sticky sweetness of the sports beverage. Finally, he is able to subdue them by waving at them with a pair of enormous pants, but he has already been stung repeatedly and in the team photo he is pockmarked and wincing.
Weeks later, you and Moods are sitting in your dorm room. It has been a whirlwind of interviews, talk show appearances and fashion shoots. Eddie Tufetti got to be the honorary marshal of the Werewolf Parade in Nevada. Nub Bascot has commissioned an honorary Truck Finger in honor of the championship and you got to do the honorary first lifting. It is strange to go from all of that to your simple dormitory and classes and exams.
There is a knock at the door. It is late at night and you are not expecting anyone. It is a courier from a telegram service. He drops off a card for you and you open it up.
“Who’s telegramming us at eleven at night?” Moods says.
You open it up and gasp.
“It’s from B. Duckett,” you say. “It says ‘Nice Pants.’”
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