Sore Losers

I'm not a fan... well, not a fanatic anyway. I only watch sports when something big is on the line, Olympic Gold, World Series, or (you guessed it!) The Superbowl. So I found out who was in the conference Championships last night, but not being fanactic I just caught the tail-end of the Steelers-Broncos game and then changed channels to watch the Panthers-Seahawks. As the Carolina players trotted onto the field (with no fireworks or fancy displays since they were visiting) I could hear the crowd Booing!
I Hate Booing. Where is the sportsmanship? Those players comprise one of the four best teams in the league, they come to play in your fair city and you're so afraid they're gonna kick the crap outta your home team that you already wanna take your ball and go home?!? Sissies. Crybabies. Sore Losers! Oh, wait... the Seahawks soared to victory (pun intended). If the fanatics accept victory as graciously as they accept defeat then I'd hate to be around them for the next two weeks.
Maybe I should've waited for the Superbowl after all.

Vengeance' Birth

My shoulders slump in defeat. My calm visage contorts with agony as my body twitches and convusles through the transformation. Unable to continue standing erect I squat, eyes and muscles bulging I cover my face while the sting of poison leaves my heart and fills my veins. My wings shudder and tremble, white feathers no longer gleam, but look sickly and limp. The feathers begin to fall, leaving behind pale skin and bleeding pock marks, as they touch the ground each one bursts into flames which grow around me, swallowing me. The tatters of my former robes flare brightly, turn to ash and drift upward in the heat. My skin darkens and takes on the reddish hues of the fire while my golden locks, now singed and black, fall from my naked skull. I feel sharp pain in my head, my hands drop from my face, revealing eyes that gleam in the firelight as I look heavenward. Mouth open I wish to beg for mercy, but instead the sound of grating stones fills the air as two small horns sprout from my forehead. I resolutely set my jaw and begin to rise from my crouched position as the last of the flames dwindle and die, leaving behind a smoldering ring of sludge. A searing pain tears through my groin, and then the base of my spine; as I feel flesh ripping a howl escapes my throat, stealing even the dignity of silence from my metamorphosis. The once smooth skin of my sexless groin is now marred by dark, tightly curled hair, and trailing down the inside of my thigh, curled around my right ankle is a quivering new appendage. The blood of it's terrible birth drops from the phallus-like tip of my tail and it begins to flick back and forth as I contemplate my condition. Frustrated at every turn by Mercy, I have given up celestial glory, only now I can do as He asked. And what reward shall I receive for my obedience? Eternal Damnation.
I am Justice. Look into my eyes and reap your rewards.