First post here on this site, so Ello. This story is not finished yet but I need some help getting me on the right track. Ive been told it is a little bit scattered but I seem to like it. Douglas Adams is kinda like my hero, so I base some of my stuff off him.
Critique please. =D
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It was a very cold and dreary February afternoon and he felt like his hands were about to fall off. This was the final event of the strong man competition on Neville XIII and the reigning champ Zyphon Escobar seemed to have finally met his match.
“Big Glute” was about 5’9 and a Genra. Genras were reptile like creatures similar to that of an earthen Komodo and Human, except more scaly. They were only but known for their brute force but there were many vague attempts in showcasing there intellectual ability in the workplace. Most of which ended in many casualties and many cases of depression.
Glute grunted, wiped the blood off his left shoulder, and charged once more. The thunderous roar he bellowed as he charged paired with his truck like momentum and Zyphon felt it. He felt it hard. His limp body bounced across the gravel as he came back from his 20 foot descent and he now realized how devastatingly screwed he was.
Name, was greatly fascinated by such a display and often shook his hands together to get some warmth back into them. As he sat there in the 15th row, 20 yards back, he however wondered if this was a good way to spend his vacation time, alone among thousands of other screaming fans.
Zyphon got up slowly and started to yelp. It isn’t like he had any other choice to, he just wished he could find a weakness somewhere among the scales and the idiocy. Though, how can you defeat something so stupid?
Not that Name, didn’t like these showcases of strength and muscle, he had spent many hours in front of the television back home and cheered every time his favorite competitor lifted a truck or piledrived that person only a handful of people liked. He pushed his glasses back up and squinted heavily, it’s just that this fight was getting extremely depressing.
The crowd favorite was on his last legs and most of the gangs in the sector were going off to collect. He was now bleeding profusely and could only see from his right eye. Not that it mattered, what he was going to do next was going to make or break the match. Not to mention, it was extremely stupid.
