Wimple the Warper part i*

 Neville Wimple was a good man, and he was very aware of this, as he reached into his collar, and tried to loosen to give himself time to speak. He was staring at the Goddess, and naturally stuttering, ‘What had he said wrong?” to have her stair at him like that? What???

He thought, and he thought, and took a while to think, because he was Neville Wimple, and thinking is a pretty complicated process as you’ll agree. It involves quite a few cells of our body, and much of our brain as well. And it depends on minute-minute connections and chemical concoctions which no one else is able to replicate. And Wimple, noble soul that he was, had taken that gift, and turned it, in his own mind, into exercise… thereby reinventing the term mental exercise(read futility). Turning thought, into a whole new league(rgh! The pun). Of professionalism. Thought was now something you did, very emphatically, he would tell people emphasis to match, perhaps as a demonstration of what he said.

And they would listen. And no one knew why. Wimple, just said such cool stuff, or so he thought, and his little bunch of admirers thought. But in truth Neville was a Wimple, just that, and, wimples aren’t very wise. They’re just well Wimpley, which is a weird twist between watery and weird. And so was Wimple.

Naturally, anything within third cousin range of Weird, was unwanted, and Wimple was almost half brother with the guy(Weird)… Therefore, his mental exercise(read futility) was only emphasized. The real money(read wisdom) lay with the south byre bunch. They were a bouncy beefy bracket of people. They had read, and misread, every cook book in the county, making them mighty in the main sport of their world, warp. There were no rules, and no referees. It was all out battle for the ultimate reward. Of course, because there were no referees there was no real way to judge these battles, and so, both participants always claimed victory. Which was all in the spirit of true warping, so unfortunately, League tallies/points were a bitch! Naturally, with no clear winner, there was never a clear champion. And thanks to the old RTI act, there couldn’t be unclear ones, so put your money back. Now since no one had ever won it, no one knew what the ultimate reward was.

Some rumors did go around though, the most popular being, it was the first ever, playboy with Pamela on the cover. 16 year old Pamela on the cover, in a g string, and using a simple hand lens you can see 3 pubes through the sheer material. Also, some other folks believed to be the beleveller  a pre-read compendium of everything you’d ever need to know. And some believed it to be a plunger, of great power, so that the toilets wouldn’t smell all the time.

It was none of these, but I’m not one to speak, I’ve not seen  the ultimate reward either, or thought of it, which is why, the whole idea still feels hollow. But never fear, it will be a good ultimate reward, not something stupid like immortality, I’d prefer the Superman mode. But something truly meaningful and beautiful, almost like the bouncing of a small puppy when you have his ball in your hand. In fact, it might have something, to do with the very moment when you realize, whatever else you do, you’ll throw that ball for him. It may not matter, if you die in the next moment, the amount of joy you give to that dog, by extending your arm out from your body with sufficient velocity to propel it (The ball, not your arm)  a distance further, you attain nirvana. True salvation, when you look into his brown eyes, all staring only at your hand, in absolute certainty that the ball it holds will be his… and only his. When he knows you will throw it, when he knows you will… even if you hate dogs(Wha?) he knows you will throw him that ball, because that big old bag of happiness has name written all over it, and he’s was there to collect. You lose all options, come what may, you know, your one mission in life, yup the one God sent you down to do, is to provide that pup with his moment of happiness, and you can’t deny him. You may be shivering with fear, especially if it’s a big small puppy. But you will throw him that ball, By God, and everything sacred, you will make sure that dog has a ball to chase, and match bounces to. So with quivering arm, you throw the ball. You know that moment, of almost perfect selflessness… yeah the ultimate reward could have something to do with that. Or maybe it won’t… I just haven’t thought of it yet.

Anyway, returning to the story. Wimple had rudely had his mental exercise when he realized the queen was staring at him. The queen by virtue of being was always tittering on the edge of winning the ultimate reward, and if it weren’t for the RTI she would have won long ago. The queen was staring at wimple, who wasn’t even worth a capitalized first letter in this sentence, as he quavered under her stare, wondering what he had done.

In truth he hadn’t done anything, the queen was just having some fun, and she had overheard wimple show off some mental exercise, so she had come over, to make the game more challenging. She stepped in. And that was enough it seemed to freeze Wimple. The Queens are very powerful psychic attack pokemon, though their psy attacks can’t be trained. Their stupefy attack, is probably one of the most powerful psy attacks ever, with the ability to brain freeze up to two opponents at the same time. It seemed she had unleashed a bolt on Wimple.

Wimple are rather ordinary pokemon, and prefer the shorter grass of the putting greens avoiding the coarser more challenging reality of the fair way. Wimples are known only for their very powerful look, and laugh attacks, which however can’t be used on a stronger opponent.

The queen began her formal assault with proximity and put herself in a space where he knew she was listening, clutching her books in front of her chest and nodding appropriately. This made Wimple shake. As her attack grew stronger and she closed the gap, Wimple tried several tactics, humur, hush and ultimately disperse to hinder her, but none of these had the least affect. Finally, completely in control, and near victory she used scowl. This is one of the most powerful scowl attacks in the world, and ranks second only to the scowl of attack of Philopuff, which is the evolved form of The Queen.

Wimple was knocked out by scowl, and so we find him, wondering why the queen was using scowl on him.

Wimple said, “Hi, Romana, how are you? Join us.” Co-opt is an attack not unique to wimple, but which they are the best at performing; it is very useful in group battles or even to run away in battle in the wild. It is completely ineffective in tournament and one on one situations. The queen smiled, “why not, I’ve wanted to speak to you for some time, Neville.” “Oh really,” he said, half hopeful, “What about?” “oh nothing very important, just well, this and that.” An interesting pre match maneuver, assuming initiator stance, and well he could match easily. “Oh well, you know where to find me, I’m always in the library, or on jstor. I just totally love jstor.” This was an all out affront, an explanation! This was more than the queen would take from anyone, but the suddenness of his attack surprised her. She recovered quickly, with shield, “Well, I don’t really have the time.” “Yes,” he replied with a sigh, “theater must take so much out of you.” “Oh yes, but it’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. I mean, just being able to control myself so much. (Suddenly enthusiastic, dare I say, bubbly?)Like we have exercises where you have to swing your foot with like all your strength, or whatever, and then stop at this angle. And they showed us how to it. And I’m not so good at it, but there was this one guy who could swing his foot at my hand, and stop where ever I indicated It was really awesome.”  “Yeah that must be so cool,” shielded wimple again. Then a counter, “but how are you keeping up with Kranti?” with lowblow, saw wimple get a glimmer of hope. Unfortunately he’d gone to far, and broken the rules of engagement, and The Queen, with complete mastery turned away, using her shield attack, almost offensively, “If you have nothing nice to talk about, I’d rather leave,” she said.

And she turned around and walked off. What had started out as a casual encounter, had got way too heated, too soon, and Wimple really wasn’t one to talk with on such close terms. Hmmm… and the score keepers all just wagged their heads, confused as to whether they’d watched a victory or a loss, and who had suffered which. They couldn’t score it either, so the leader board stayed as it was, with the The Queen almost winning, and wimple far far away from a rank.

Wimple with a muttered, “that showed her,” audible only to his closest friends, so that they knew to put on the victory faces, and pull out the election badges, as they turned around again to face his gang.

The Queen had a similar look on their faces, just like arsenal and man u after a draw.

Of course, this where things come to a head: What next, no quest towards the ultimate reward can be charted, without the ultimate reward being known at least to the person preparing the charts, even if he stamps them confidential and put them in his drawer, or to keep them really secret, labels them Backstreet boys latest book of poetry, and places them on street corners. The point is, I haven’t yet thought about it, and if I get lazy, I may never think about it… but I feel like I might, this tournament, definitely deserves a part ii,