PRE-GAME ANTICS
Cerberus was already on the field, all three heads growling and snapping in different directions. Each head wore a tiny referee cap, tilted slightly askew.
Left Head: (snarling) “We’ll devour you!”
Right Head: (grinning) “We’ll DESTROY you!”
Middle Head: (clearly the thinker of the trio) “Can I eat the rope this time?”
Satan: (smoothing his cape) “Absolutely not! You’re here to terrify, not to snack. Save the rope for the game.”
Frank: (eyeing the beast nervously) “This is insane. That thing’s got three mouths, and I’ve only got one back to throw out!”
Estelle: (shoving Frank towards the rope) “Quit whining and pull! You’ve been carrying the weight of your bad attitude for years; this should be easy!”
THE TEAMS
TEAM CERBERUS: Cerberus, naturally, with Satan as their coach. The giggling maidens served as cheerleaders, complete with fiery pom-poms and chants like, “Bite! Chew! Gnaw them through!”
TEAM DAMNED AND DESPERATE: Frank, Estelle, Frigidor Dalek (begrudgingly roped in, pun intended), Donald the Orangutan (who insisted he was the team captain), and Elon the Muskrat (still wearing spring shoes).
Donald the Orangutan: (blowing his whistle from the wrong end) “Alright, team, listen up! I’m in charge here. Follow my lead, and we’ll win this thing.”
Frigidor Dalek: (already fed up) “YOU ARE A MONKEY. I AM AN ADVANCED LIFEFORM WITH A COOLING COMPARTMENT. THIS IS FUTILE.”
Donald the Orangutan: (pointing dramatically) “Futile? I’ll show you futile! Someone tie the rope to my impeccable chest hair!”
Satan: (cackling from the sidelines) “This is going to be delicious.”
ROUND ONE: THE INITIAL TUG
Cerberus grabbed their end of the rope in all three mouths, their heads growling in unison.
Left Head: (chomping eagerly) “Ready!”
Right Head: (salivating profusely) “Set!”
Middle Head: (with a muffled voice) “Goooooo!”
On the other side, Frank and Estelle braced themselves.
Frank: (grumbling) “I’m too old for this nonsense.”
Estelle: (yanking him into position) “And too lazy! Pull, Frank!”
The whistle blew, and chaos erupted.
Cerberus lunged forward with terrifying strength, dragging Team Damned and Desperate several feet across the scorched ground.
Elon the Muskrat: (bouncing uncontrollably on his spring shoes) “I’m not anchored! This is a bad design flaw!”
Donald the Orangutan: (clutching the rope while somehow flexing) “I’m doing all the work here!”
Frigidor Dalek: (spinning in circles as he was dragged) “THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! I WAS NOT DESIGNED FOR ATHLETICS!”
ROUND TWO: TEAM TACTICS
Frank, in a rare moment of lucidity, had an idea.
Frank: “Why don’t we let the dog think it’s winning and then yank it back? You know, like reverse psychology.”
Estelle: (rolling her eyes) “Frank, that’s not reverse psychology. That’s just giving up first!”
Despite the bickering, the team tried Frank’s “plan.” They let the rope slacken, and Cerberus, confused, stumbled forward.
Left Head: (spitting out the rope) “What’s happening?”
Right Head: (tilting in confusion) “Are they even trying?”
Middle Head: (chewing idly) “Mmm, rope is delicious…”
But then, Donald took matters into his own hands—well, feet. He climbed up the rope mid-game and began taunting Cerberus from above.
Donald the Orangutan: (hanging upside down, making faces) “You call yourselves a dog? I’ve seen Yorkies with more bite!”
Cerberus lunged at Donald, causing the rope to jerk violently. Elon went flying into the air, landing headfirst in a sulphur pit.
Elon the Muskrat: (muffled) “I’m okay! Just needs more testing!”
THE FINAL SHOWDOWN
With Elon out, Frigidor Dalek initiated a desperate counterattack. He opened his cooling compartment, revealing an ice-cold beer, and rolled towards Cerberus.
Frigidor Dalek: (shouting) “LOOK, HELLHOUND. REFRESHMENT!”
Middle Head: (sniffing) “Ooooh, cold beer!”
Distracted, Cerberus released their grip on the rope, giving Team Damned and Desperate the upper hand.
Estelle: (yelling) “Pull, Frank! PULL!”
With one final, Herculean effort (and a lot of yelling from Estelle), the team yanked the rope so hard Cerberus tumbled forward, collapsing into a heap.
Satan: (clapping sarcastically) “Well, well, it seems I underestimated you lot. Don’t let it go to your heads. You’ve just won the preliminaries. Next week: Tug of War… WITH LEVIATHAN!”
Frank: (collapsing onto the ground) “I hate this place.”
Estelle: (grinning) “And yet, we’re champions!”
