Super Bowel XLIII

Yes, there is a reason why I’ve misspelled Super Bowl in such a manner. Perhaps, I am just a product of my environment. After all, my hometown decided to show the area’s pride by programming the message board outside the local fairgrounds to celebrate the recent playing of the Super Bowel. This is of course the 43rd consecutive contest of intestinal fortitude, in which we bit down hard, took hold of the handles and passed our opponents.

I can recall the struggle. I took my seat, program in hand, and prepared myself for what was about to come. You can feel it in the pit of your stomach bubbling and churning. You wait for them to pass through that long dark tunnel. Sometimes, you wonder how such big beings can emerge from such a small opening. Once they funnel out though, you know there’s no turning back. You are in it for the long haul.

Our team made some tough movements up and down the playing field but, ultimately, we splashed down with success. There were times when we shook with anxiety, our brows furrowed with sweat. You shift in your seat, uncomfortably until something lets loose and tears the other team a new one. There is nothing so truly delicious and satisfying as dumping all that fear and worry and relishing in knowing that it’s all over. You sigh with relief. You laugh a little. You feel better that it’s all over. Unfortunately, from sitting so long, your but hurts.

Congratulations. Hopefully, we all waved our Irritable Bowels, the most recognizable sign of our explosive spirit. Super Bowel XLIII will definitely go down in history as hard to swallow for the losers.