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Boxing Competithion Started by: MikeTyson on Jun 07, '22 11:29

Ladith, Gentlemen & pasty faced wierdo’s ( Hobbs ) I have an announcement to make. The Corktown 112s (Mug City’s finest) will be holding a free to enter, free for all boxing competition.

If you have not been living under a rock, or on the missing list like @RonaldCarrabia & Southsider you will have seen on these very streets the sheer volume of brutal beatdowns given & taken from Detroit recently. We love to scrap it out & I am full of confidence that one of Mug city’s finest will put on a clinic for the rest of you pencil necked geekths.

Now I understand Cardio Vathcular exercise is not every mafioso’s preference, you can’t all be built like adonis or hold your breath for 35 minutes like HeadCoath & you may not even be able to punch your way out of a shift down at the dweeb factory, so to encourage participation I can offer the below prizeth

  • Immortality for the winner (Resulths may vary) you may not live forever but you will always be known as the toughest SOB out here.

The church of Squishy have very kindly offered to launder us the following additional prizeth

  • Random Perk(s) & Corrupt Agent for all entrants.
  • Better Perk(s) & an additonal Corrupt Agent for progressing into the second round.
  • Better Perk(s) & an additonal Corrupt Agent for progessing into the third round & onwards (Depending on number of entrants)
  • Quad Corrupt Agents & Perk(s) for reaching the semi finals.
  • An additonal set of Quad Corrupt Agents, Double Unit Corrpupt Agents & The Best Perk(s) for our last man standing!

Here at the Corktown 112's we would like to extend a huge thank you to the church for their generous sponsorship of this event. We would also like to make clear we will be gaining nothing from this event financially or otherwise. This is for you guyth to have fun, win some sweet prizes & nothing more.

We would also like of offer a thense of belonging & camaraderie to all people across the nation. You do not need to be a mafia basketball player to throw down & box. Everyone is welcome (Even heathen Hobbs) As a famous fat oaf man once said ‘Men love mug city. Men love filthy public toilets. Men love communal locker-room showers with the team. Men love to apply tiger balm to their friends hard-to-reach parts’ Iron Mike knows some of you have been secretly longing for a bum pat from one of your colleagues, looking to Mug city with envious eyes. Now you can be a part of thith! Everyone is welcome, please get involved.

To keep the death toll under a competitive writing community disaster level Iron Mike will not be entering the competition. You will all be lucky enough to hear the baddeth man on the planets thweet tone commentating on the bouts right here in the threeths.

We will have guest announcers including but not limited to HeadCoach & Grin-22. Denith may or may not put in an appearance it depends on if he can be bothered to show up. We will also be paying out perks to interested members of the public who want to try their hand at fight commentary.

The rules for this competition are simple & can be found on THIS POSTER. An unofficial rule is that anyone who comes to Iron Mikes Muscle Maker in Corktown for a training session may be well prepared for the contetht & will be well treated by the judges. Trash talking of your opponent is also encouraged.

Anyone who would like to enter this feast of perfect pugilism give me a ‘Hell Yeah Iron Mike’ a manly bum pat or some other such nonsense. I will then add you to the first round. No entries by mail will be accepted as Denith is already working too hard dealing with my volumous correspondence given the fact I run a huge criminal empire. Entries will close at 13.00 on Sunday 12th June.

On the advice of my lawyer I need to confirm that this event is NOTHING like mafia golf or any of the other 10,000 boxing events that have taken place in the past present or future. It is a fully original work with all credit & praise going to Iron Mike Tython & the beautiful mug city.

One final note FrenchieHorn will be following in her great great great grandmothers’ footsteps by handling all media enquiries & working (For free) as a sports reporter. Thanketh Frenchie.

Iron Mike pauses for the first brave entrant to speak up…

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Nicola-Trevisani read through the flyer and then furrowed her brow. Pulling her notepad out of her bag she started furiously scribbling upon it, pausing only once or twice to glare at MikeTyson before capping her pen and stomping over to where he was. 

Practically shoving the notebook into the man's face the paper demanded to know, "How can I get bonus points for trash talking if I can't fucking talk?!!!??!!?!?!?" with the fucking talk underlined about a bajilion times, her absolute displeasure at once again being given less than those who seemed incapable of shutting up. 

Counting to ten Nicola-Trevisani took a few deep breaths and then held the paper up for another good fifteen seconds or so to make sure the man had plenty of time to read the message, who knew how many hits to the head he had sustained over the years. Once she lowered it she resumed staring at him silently. 

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HELL YEAH IRON MIKE.

I know people may come here saying things like, 'Hell yes, Mike, for too long have I mugged and beaten up people without reward'. I want to get ahead of those statements by telling you that mugging is a reward in itself. To beat a man up is to become a part of him. We are all living in the memories of our future selves, and those memories are violent and glorious. Having said that, I'm very excited to take part in this. I've got fists that stink like raw fish. Don't ask me why, they've become rancid and I'm not rushing to solve it. My opponents are going to leave that ring feeling like sashimi. 

I've been rolling around town taking mugs like I'm paying them for the pleasure (and, in a way, I am). Does anyone think they're going to knock me out? I take a beating like FrizzleFry takes to short shorts and there isn't a sexual partner in the Greater Michigan area who could resist that man in a pair of denim cut-offs. Good luck. I'll take twigs, I'll take Giorgio-Esposito, you give me anyone, Mike, and I'm gonna come out of that ring smelling like a weather-worn tuna and feeling like a million bucks. 

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Iron Mike had to very carefully (& discreetly) read the message written on the notebook angrily thrust under his nose by Nicola-Trevisani (After a previous run in with the thuspicioth activities committee Iron Mike didn't want it to become public knoweledge that he could read) her silient regard was weighily heavily on Iron Mike. Now I understand why she ignored my previous cheery 'Hello Friendth' the other morning. The lady couldn't talk!

"Do not fear friendth Nicola-Trevithani we can work something out. I will let you know your opponent ahead of time. You write enough trash to steal the soul from their body & break their fragile ego into a million pieces & I can get the trash talk printed up into pothterth & hang them around the venue. I will altho read out your trash talk on comms as you do your ring walk..."

Iron Mike thinks better of asking if Nicola would prefer eye of the tiger or man eater for her entrance music.

"Now give me a friendly bum pat or confirm in writing with a 'HELL YEAH IRON MIKE' that you are entering the contetht!"

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Jarrick was a fan of combat sports and loved a good competition. Going down to Iron Mikes he heard of the boxing tournament coming up. He figured he could still throw a punch, right? It hadn't been TOO long since he trained for this sort of thing back in the fatherland.

"I would love to take a swing at the tournament, Iron Mike! Where is the sign-up sheet?" he said looking around for a pen secretly hoping for bum pats.

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Foo had spent her whole life scooping up field mice and bopping them on the head, regardless of the threats from that "good fairy". She had trained for an event like this and just knew she could bop most anyone right out of the competition.

"Hell yeah Iron Mike, sign me up!" Foo proclaimed before running back off to train on more field mice.

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For too long the streets outside of DT have been too safe. People go unmugged, beatings undished. This is unacceptable to me. I will be entering the competition and will crush ANY opponent. 

If I can palm a basketball just imagine what I can do to someone's skull! They will never escape my meaty hands and that's to the new training and diet plan HeadCoach has me on I'm girthier than ever. I can't even feel the many, many beatings I receive on a daily basis. 

Sign me up MikeTyson I'll be at the gym training and maybe having a snack. 

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Hmmm, very interesting MikeTyson. I was Cadet boxing champion when I joined the force 25 years and 100lbs ago, but I may as well throw my hat into the arena. After all, I can then see if there is any similarity to being drunk drunk and punch drunk. Maybe my devout alcoholism and new coke habit will make me a tad more pain resistant than some of my fellow competitors... sorry, the other idiots who are signing up to get a beat down at the hands of Detroit's greatest living Deputy Manager in charge of Concessions.

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After listening to the soft, dulcet tones of MikeTyson's lisp, Justice raised his skinny, almost bone-like arm into the air. HELL YEAH IRON MIKE he whispered, but all heard. 

Taking into consideration the fact I am a mere skeleton I will take on all comers regardless of their size. Go work out and build yourselves up cos you'll need it. 

Justice then turned away to go visit the gambling hall to do some dicing. He needed to get all his bad luck out the way with, and boy did he have a lot of bad luck when it came to dicing. Stopping to check one of his cards, he noticed it contained Death. Justice hoped this meant bad luck for his opponent and not himself. 

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Hell yeah, Iron Mike!

There is nothing I like more than punching a guy in the face. Since I consider myself to be a progressive mafia basketball player who believes in gender equality, I will also be more than happy to punch a lady in the face. Hell, throw a baby in the ring. I'll punch that little shit in the face, too. Just no kitties or puppies. They are exempt from my brutality.

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Hell yeah, Iron Mike!   I would love to enter your competition.   I feel my wide girth will provide a great advantage over the fellow competitors because.... well I'm not sure why.    But I am overly optimisitc on my chances nevertheless.

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We would request that a BBB supported candidate be allowed to enter this competition. We here at the BBB support boxing sine we are also the Better Boxing Bureau. In fact we fund all kinds of Better B sport projects. For example Ballooning, Basse and Bikejoring. If you are interested in any of those sports or other B activates then let us know. We recently branched in Baking and Bloodletting. One of which will be very handy in this competition. So get ready for these loaves. 

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Iron Mike was feeling PUMPED. In a short time the buddah of ball, the fish smelling tub of lard, the main man in Mug city had signed up prompting a few more people getting involved. Representing mug city we have no less than 5 entrants, representing the windy city CL Jarrick & potentially Nicola-Trevisani and representing the city of sin Justice Fat_Horse & the creature from many of Iron Mike's childhood nightmares LittleBunnyFooFoo

"Many thanks to the kind people from Chicago, Vegas & another anonymous tippers. Your generosity will be included in the prize for our winning finalist &/or to reward guest commentators / the best trash talkers. Iron Mike will not make a single cent from this contest of Pugilithic perfection. Lets hope for some more contestants soon. Remember guyth this is free to enter & everyone is guaranteed a pretty thucking sweet prize."

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The word around the Streets had spread quite quickly in regards to the Boxing Competition that the baddetht baddest man on the planet had coordinated. It seemed ridiculous to Illuminatiated that a man who had been hit as frequently as MikeTyson had it him in to be this coordinated, but hey, apparently HeadCoach was a fucking miracle worker. Despite his brief stint in Detroit Ian had not once picked up a basketball other than to chuck it at "Mr." Tyson's pigeon. Jesus, he hated that pigeon... 

Boxing however was something that Ian was thoroughly familiar with, having been a part of a few underground boxing rings during his younger years. It had been awhile, but since Mike himself wasn't entering the contest, Ian figured hey why the hell not. Most of the other jocks from Detroit poised no threat.

"MIKE. My main man Mike. What an absolutely brilliant competition that you've put together. I can't say the same for the looks of the competition, but hey, we can't help the faces that we're born with eh? Consider me SUPER IN for this event. Not just regularly in - that part's important. I would wish all of you good luck but truth be told I want to win."

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Alina was walking on Main Street when she ran into her Boss Jarrick.  He handed her a flyer about a Boxing Competition.  She looked down at the flyer read a little bit, looked up at Jarrick then looked back at the flyer and finished reading it.  

She looked back up and Jarrick and asked him if he thought she should check it out.  He told her yes that he thought she could hold her own.  Well OK then she said.

She walked to the corner where the announcement was being made, squeezed through the crowd until she got to the front. 

She yelled out  ‘Hell Yeah Iron Mike’ please count me in.

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He surveyed the landscape of the boxing competition, walking sneakily around the premises of the sign up sheets to see who would put their name down on the dotted line. Most of them all looked the same, deficient in power, and not putting in the hours at the gyms across the Americas to the point of drastic results. 

"Hefty, small, weak, silly, the type of guy you shove into a toilet in fourth grade. That's what they've all said about me, but now that I am older and own a rather large stake in a carrot-selling business, who is laughing now?"

There wasn't much more to be done except for sign up. Which was apparently done by saying a curse word, something that Gnoch wasn't allowed to do as he followed a very strict straight edge code of conduct. There were always ways around that sort of thing, though, and what momma don't know won't hurt her.

"Heck Yes, Iron Mike. Count me in."

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HELL YEAH IRON MIKE.

 

After hanging on every word you have said since the moment I arrived here, I feel more than confident that I have the tools at my disposal to break some jaws in this competition. Count me in. 

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Daiquiri had heard on the grapevine about the Boxing Competition and could not help but wonder a 'why?' to people willingly wanting to step into a ring for a fight. Wasn't the world already a bit 'punchy punchy' with the mug pandemic? Still, she made her way to the venue to read more about it. She could see it was gathering a lot of interest, she had to stand in a long queue just to be able read the poster with all the details on it.

"Boxing is a spectator sport!" Daiquiri muttered to herself as she started to step away from the notice board, still with the notion of people being a bit too crazy to just step into the ring to take a beating. But something within her found its voice, she had little control over what came out of her mouth next.

"Hell Yeah Iron Mike!" she blurted out loud for all to hear and with that, she had signed up for the event. With no way of backing out now, she made her way out of the building and up the street to buy herself a skipping rope, to start her training with. 

 

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Hobbs joined the long list of people waiting to kiss the ring of Iron MikeTyson. He'd been talking about this bleeding boxing competition for weeks, and had decided to pull the trigger now no doubt to try distract people from the shame of allied bodyguard killing. Old Hobbs remembered though as the North always did. The queue was full of people he'd love to punch the face of. There was the 50 unit hating @Illuminatiated with the most ridiculous name around, as well as seventy-five percent of Detroit and that mute girl who liked to grow mushrooms. Hobbs shuddered.

"HELL YEAH IRON MIKE" Hobbs called whilst enthusiastically slapping Mike on the rear. This was going to be Hobbs moment, he was going to be King of the Ring and show everyone just how tough he could be. Hobbs had already set up camp in Detroit in the form of a Public Library, and had made several trips to the Gym mainly to show off his strength.

"As a reminder to everyone, should you need to use the facilities the Detroit Library has an extraordinary set of toilets that would be glad to cleanse any beaten and bloody soul."

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After some hemming and hawing mentally regarding the contest and if she should join or not, Nicola-Trevisani made her way back to the streets and approached MikeTyson with a frown. She held up a bit of paper, "Look, I'm mean muggin' or something." it said. She was very good at planning out these interactions, thats for sure. Paid to be prepared. 

Finally she dropped the face, before anyone suggested she go spend time in the 12th street toilets, and then held up another sign that read, "Swearing is bad, but heck yes, I'll punch one of you sissy men in the face." it was an abnormally large sheet of paper. Comically large. It was actually a pair of Conqueeftador 's pantaloons that she had torn the seams out of just to make sure there was enough space. 

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