By Paul Strauss: Rumors abound, and boxing fans in Oxnard, CA are worried, because there’s a distinct odor, yet in fact a malodorous smell of sulfur in the air. Authorities have narrowed down the source to relatively small location called the Academy. Recently, at that location, there have been numerous complaints of severe olfactory irritation. In fact, the complaints have become common place, and the worst thing is there doesn’t appear to be a remedy.
Those affected have reluctantly decided to live with it, because they have pin-pointed the source, and found that it is not an “it” after all; it’s a “him”! Turns out the source is none other than their hero, formerly known as Antonio “The Express Train” Margarito. This revelation leaves them in an uncomfortable position (in more ways than one), so in many cases his fans have resorted to a lot of nose holding, hand waving sick humor as a way to supplant their suffering. Now when entering the gym, they simply call out, “Who cut the cheese?”
Loyal subjects, who once called him the great Tijuana Tornado, have descended to the lowest levels (hot air rises), and taken to addressing him with more descriptive nom de plumes such as Lord Windysmere, Lord Boomer, and even The Tijuana Cloud of Chaos. Their depression leads them to continually talk of the disappointments from down under.
From a practical standpoint, his handlers worry that The Express Train’s unfortunate condition, sometimes known as bean barking, has slowed him considerably. They feel it has rendered him into this pathetic character, who denies any wrongdoing, but continues to run around the gym asking people to, “Pull My Finger”! His camp is really worried. They’ve called in the best flatulentologists, but the situation has become even stinkier.
Now Manny and Freddy are worried too. They express understanding, and offer that “Nobody’s perfect”. In fact, Manny admits that he sometimes calls his famous trainer Fragrant Freddy, but on a more serious note, they admit concern when they do routine mandatory things like examining the other camp’s gauze used for wrapping hands. They contend there is a distinct smell of sulfur.
in private, they express real fear that when in the ring, Manny could be subjected to a dreaded big woofer from the taller man, and there’s a chance there might not be any warning, which is better known as S.B.D. (Silent but deadly). Experience tells us that often times that is only a symptom or prelude to more serious conditions such as the potential fight ending fecal fluffies or a painful butt burner. The ringside physician would have no choice but to declare a TKO.
HBO has gotten wind of things as well, and they’re concerned about anal audio, and the accompanying bips, blasts and buck snorts. They’ve warned both sides that they have to be concerned with the FCC and possible admonishment, so in the event of a “colon quack” they will have to break away from the action to pre-selected taped diversion, such as “Nature’s Little Surprises!” To which Larry Merchant expressed some dismay, because he wants to be able exhibit his journalistic inventiveness by saying something like, “This has been a real Gassius Assius.” Jim Lampley agrees, and says, he wanted to be able to shout, “He blew the ol butt trumpret that time!”
Well, it is an ill wind that blows no good, and in this case potentially profitable news came in the form of a Smell O-Gram to Tony from a big athletic shoe company. When they heard about his natural gas discovery, they suggested a joint marketing venture for a new athletic shoe called “The Air Biscuit”. Each pair of shoes would be sold with an antidote, so when someone wants to imitate Tony, they can simply kick their heels together, and the new shoes will emit a rapid succession of perilizing heine burps that will render their opponents incapacitated. The shoe company proposes that Tony “The Cloud of Chaos” will be their spokesperson, and they can get someone like the BackSteet Boys or the Tooters to do the theme song, which will describe the shoes as “The Great Equalizer.” They even thought they might do a little opera or maybe a fugue.
But, when you get down to it, the preceding was really just a lot of ^@#*! Have fun.