Here's another one pager I wrote, this time for my Creative Writing: Fiction class. I basically made it up off the top of my head as I was writing. My original thought for it was that I would start it off with some guy wrestling a buffalo, and somehow make it into an interesting story, but that was a little too far-fetched even for me. I nearly scrapped the whole story, but I was able to work it into this. It's not terribly funny, in my humble opinion, but it was a fun story for me at least. Enjoy.
A Fair Fight
Jeremy was an extremely talented fighter. He had spent many hours sparring with his best friend, Dave, who had two left fists, but who served as a decent punching bag. After each practice match, which usually resulted in Dave lying on the ground, bleeding, Jeremy would always stand tall and exclaim, “No problem.”
So one night, they were sitting in their apartment together, in El Paso, Texas, wondering what to do with the money they had just stolen from the 1st National Bank, about 30 minutes away. They had escaped with over $25,000 before the police arrived at the scene. Unfortunately, Dave had slipped up during the robbery and called Jeremy by his real name, instead of his alibi, which happened to be Snickers - for his affinity towards the candy bar, not for his cheerful laughing. And Jeremy, furious at Dave for blowing his cover, proceeded to tackle him and, amidst the scuffle, dropped his wallet, though that was unbeknownst to him at the time. After thoroughly pummeling Dave, he rose to his feet and exclaimed, “No problem.”
So, realizing that the police could perfectly identify one person in the crime, and could probably put the pieces together and identify the other member without too much effort, they decided it would be in their best interest to migrate down to Chihuahua, Mexico, because it was within driving distance, and it had the funniest name.
During their stay in Chihuahua, they encountered a rather large and dilapidated building with an eccentric-looking yellow neon sign which read “Extreme Mexican Fighting”. The name alone intrigued their criminal minds, and at Jeremy’s suggestion, they decided to go in. He figured that whoever he faced in that building, it would be “No problem.”
Inside, Jeremy expected to see a boxing ring or some sort of barbed wire cage. Instead, all he saw was a large empty room, save for a loud boom box in one corner which was blasting mariachi music, and three Mexicans at the far end of the building, next to what looked to be an enormous steel storage vault.
As soon as they had entered the building, the three men at the far end of the building approached them. The leader, a short yet burly man, spoke first.
“You gringos lookin’ for a fight?” asked the leader.
Stepping up, Jeremy said, “I’ll fight your best guy. Heck, I’ll fight all three of you. No problem.”
The leader laughed. “Yo homes, we ain’t fighting you. Chill man.”
Confused, Jeremy asked, “Well, who am I fighting?”
“You be fighting our luchador numero uno – his name is ‘No Problemo’.”
And with that, the leader pulled out a remote device, pressed a button, and ran out the door with his two comrades. Surprised, Jeremy and his two buddies turned to see what that button did.
The door to the vault had opened, to reveal a huge, angry, seething, and advancing bull. This was not just any bull though. This bull was named “No Problemo”, and for good reason. Mounted on its head was a double barreled shotgun, which was controlled by an apparatus attached to its neck which fired the gun whenever it jerked its neck back.
“N-n-nooo…” stuttered Jeremy.
“BANG!!!” said the shotgun.