Today's Match-Up: Stewart vs Sharapova
vs
Patrick Stewart vs Maria Sharapova
Today marks the first fight of the Hollywood/The Music Industry bracket, and this first fight hardly seems fair: pitting the current heavyweight favorite for Boss against the tennis player who barely defeated Birdo? That's just the way these things go. VOTE NOW!
Winner:
Patrick Stewart (15 votes)
over
Maria Sharapova (0 votes)
SHUTOUT!!! Is anyone really surprised, though? Stewart takes the fight without breaking a sweat, and Sharapova takes the fall. Can anything stop Stewart's meteoric rise to the hallowed position of boss?
Featured commentary:
Patrick Stewart and I had finished our bi-annual sacrifice of a leopard to the Demon God Kromdor and lay quietly underneath the stars, looking up as the blood and feces ran down our legs. It was then that he turned to me and asked the one question I least expected at that time.
“What is love?”
I smiled to myself, as it all made sense. It had never dawned on me that something so human could be so cryptic to a giant like Stewart. He hadn’t been the same since we had encountered Maria Sharapova on an intercontinental hovercraft cruise and celebrity gala two weeks prior. Truly, she was striking. They tangoed for hours and seemed to hit it off, but when I asked, he played it as though I was imagining the whole affair. It would appear that she did in fact leave something of herself behind in his soul, because since then he had not quite been himself. He missed her terribly, and they seemed to have shared a moment.
Life’s too short for missed connections, I thought to myself, so I told him we had to find her. That he wouldn’t be happy until he told her how he felt.
Sure enough, the next day he tracked her down and found her on a celebrity gala to celebrate the construction of a new coal excavation ballroom and dance floor in Virginia. When he made eye-contact with the nubile model/athlete, she was standing by the champagne glasses in heavy rubber suspenders wearing a hardhat. I wonder if he had walked in with a plan on how he’d sweep her off her feet. It didn’t matter, because when he took her hand and looked into her eyes, the only thing he could muster was the same question he asked me yesterday.
“What is love?!”
It was then that the moment was broken by the approach of a tall, athletic, well-groomed man wearing an expensive tuxedo. He bore an impressive resemblance to one of those guys you see in commercials for Moores, but surely it was coincidental. He wrapped his arms around Sharapova from behind, gently caressing her. He had marked his territory, and Stewart was livid. He swallowed hard, his hands clenched into fists as he looked at him, and then at her.
Sharapova was the first to speak. “Baby, don’t hurt me!”
His posture softened. He was moved by her plea.
“Baby, don’t hurt me…no more.”
It looked as though a hostile situation was defused. But the doors to the ballroom slammed open, and in walked this fucking-asshole-of-an-elephant ridden by none other than Patrick Swayze. Stewart and I looked at each other, then poised ourselves for a long fight. Stewart bellowed out the most horrifying battle-cry ever heard by man:
“Whoooooooaaaaa-oaaaaahh. Oaaaaaahh. Oh oh.”
What was that?
“Whoooooooaaaaa-oaaaaahh. Oaaaaaahh. Oh oh.”
Oh right, that battle cry. Patrick Stewart was about to kick that fucker off his elephant for the second time in a row, when suddenly, out of nowhere appears the Demon God Kromdor who rewarded us for our sacrifice by banishing Swayze into another dimension (y’know…the space between spaces….) and forcing Sharapova to watch Battlefield Earth.
In the final anaylsis, Patrick Stewart leaves physically unharmed but with a broken heart.
Maria Sharapova ends up buying a copy of Dianetics, which is kind of like death.
Stewart wins. - outragedkodiak (a hint to those of you that want featured commentary: I love early '90s dance music references)