UMSAuthorLava

So, your sports team has been defeated by your biggest rivals. They’ve repeatedly proven to be the stronger side and they’re lifting up some big juicy cup in your face. Some intellectuals may ask you why you’re so butthurt for a bunch of millionaires chasing a ball, but that’s not the moment to talk about that. You lost, utterly and clearly. So what now? Accept the defeat, congratulate your rivals then be quiet and privately analyse what went wrong with your fellow supporters? Hahahahahaha! What kind of De Coubertin-esque idiocy is this? Real supporters fight for victory even when there’s nothing to win. And no, your own dignity isn’t included in the list of things to save, there’s only TROPHIES. But how can you keep fighting? How can you show your triumphant rivals that they are the real losers, even if they’re raising that big shining cup in front of your own eyes? Let’s have a look at how you can completely destroy them with facts and logic: Blame the referees. The great classic.

“Food...food...food…” Zenkrich dragged his puny, scaly body through the green hill. His wings flapped uncontrollably, begging him to fly, despite being now useless. He hadn’t eaten for too long, and now hunger was winning over him. Beyond the top, the profile of tall, transparent towers emerged from he horizon, the sun setting down behind them. Zenkrich knew what they were. But he tried to suppress that knowledge. His young mind had tormented him enough reminding him of what they had done. They… They… A clash of multiple steps on the mountain rocks. Unbearably loud bangs. A smell of metal and sulphur, so overwhelming it nearly knocked him out. Dragons roaring in pain… “NO!” He shook his head violently. That didn’t happen. That didn’t happen. He didn’t remember at all what his life was before, only that his name was Zenkrich, and that was enough. There was more urgent stuff to think about. “Food...food...food…” He didn’t even know how he had crossed an entire mountain range and a