A bit drunken and bored Champ approaches the streets after hearing others converse about storys and parties he decides to bring up his life story.


     He then stumbles over to a few homeless men and begins to speak.

Hey,  you two kind gentlemen look like you are in need of a story, so lets begin. It all started about 4 years ago.

As the son of a long line of farmers and warriors Champ wasn't to keen to the mafioso life style. He grew up in 1910, ScotLand.

Orphaned at the age of five to a horrible war. Champ grew up in the farmlands of Scotland. Having no shelter he quickly learned to fend for

himself. He did what ever he had to do. From conning the other children out of there parent's hard earned lunch money to scavenging through

the trash.

     As a child, Champ often waited for the local farmers to tend there crops so he could burgalarize there houses.  Champ saw there struggles

and  sought to have a better life than them so he did what he had to. One day Champ robbed a pair of new neghbors one of whom had hidden

twenty dollars in a small wooden box clearly of Ireland Origin. Champ decided this was not the life for him. He thought why ruin peoples lives

for nothing when he could be

payed to do it. So he sough out the land of dreams and fools with money America. He had heard talk of many people in his small Town were

fleeing to America.

    To escape the poverty and war torned ScotLand. Some went to Chicago, others to Detroit. Yet he sought the mother of all crime and

money New York. There were some local Americans, who had saw ScotLand as a potential way to make money. Anyone who could afford the

twenty dollar fee would get the pleasure of going to the Land of America! Since Champ had recently come upon the exact amount needed he

was excited. Knowing in America Champ could not be sentenced or prosecuted for any misdeeds formerly committed in Scot Land. Champ

bracingly robbed a string of shops, and homes all with occupants at Knife point. He then sprinted twenty yards to the docks where the Ship

which traveled to America was.


    Once handing, a man clearly from America the twenty dollars needed to board the boat Champ got into what previously looked like a

large boat became smaller and smaller the deeper Champ climbed down into it until he finally saw a single room opening.

Inside, Champ recognized some familiar faces from his neighborhood. There were no beds and not much moving room. The place was

extremely filthy. Champ was later told it would be a twelve day journey. He kept track of the days from the numbers he had carved into the

rotted wooden floor of the deck.

Champ stops in the middle of his story,  to wave at Gwarble and Achilles who are listening near by. He then continues his story.

"Twelve days" later which seemed more like an eternity slowly arrived. When the boat finally stopped Champ was the first to leave the small

whole were all of the immigrants had hid including himself. Once every passenger had left the Ship's Crew hastily sailed away.

Upon noticing Anselmo who has now arrived starting to nod off to sleep Champ decides it is time to go to sleep and stops telling the large

crowd his story. Then passes out on the street corner.

~To be continued~

Nice story! You could be the next  Gwarble in many people's view!

I don't think many people share that view.

You are in denial that someone could even come close to challenging you for such great stories.

The Barble doesn't print stories, it prints cold hard facts and lies.

Once upon a time, I became a mobster.

The end.

Yep, still got it.

That "could/ would" win a contest if it wasn't for Champ!  

I am still confused as to where in 'ScotLand' he lives that they use Dollars for currency. Also from 'ScotLand' to America in 12 days? I was under the belief a journey of that distance took MONTHS, not days.

Afro walks away shaking his head.

Chris stops for a moment, and scratches his head in confusion

What in the blue hell...?

I'm sorry... Chump, but the Rock, THE People's Champ has no idea what you are on about. The Rock remembers you speaking about the origins of your name. Well the Rock has a 3rd suggestions on its origins, Champ: Champ is a deceptively simple dish of mashed potatoes and Spring Onions from Ireland, which is cooked with milk and butter. Often used in association with the descriptive term 'As thick as Champ.'

And yes Gwarble, the Rock agrees, you still have IT! But the Rock doesn't want IT! So if you stop scratching and use that topical ointment the Doctor gave you... IT should go away.

Pipe down, chump.

Listening to the young man speak Tyrion becomes more concerned with every line. Eventually Champ finishes and Tyrion has questions.

Hello young man. I was interested in your story. In fact its is one of the only stories I have ever listened to all the way through, though sadly not for the reasons you may hope. Anyway, I have a question...

You say you came from war torn 'Scot Land' (I assume you mean Scotland) in 1910. There was no war in that country at that time. Which war might you be referring to?

Prophet listens to the man finish his story and says there will be more, "More? I didn't get the first part? Again the same with your story competition, I might need some elaboration on top of what you have presented. I am just a little confused about some aspects of the story. This is the land of opportunity not fools." Prophet said with a sly smirk.

I do believe from what I heard that Champ said he was orphaned due to a horrible war. He never said that war took place on Scottish soil. Nor did he say that war occured in 1910. Although it's perfectly possible that his French father faught in the Wadai war.

True, but if his father was french and in the Wadai war, why is he a scot and in Scotland?

I have no idea. I just heard the same tale of his childhood as all of you. I have no doubt that we haven't heard the last of Champ's upbringing. I am sure it will all come out in the wash.

To escape the poverty and war torned ScotLand.

That doesn't leave much doubt as to the country the war was in.

He must mean Glasgow.

I never knew the mafia had critics. I guess someone has to give the two thumbs up or down.  Yet another story, another failure, and more analyzers to point it out. Sheesh!

Marley wonders why he kepts saying sheesh when it's not a common word from his backgrounds. Feeling compelled to leave on another note he turns around and says

Mon!

Marley. The story was posted as part of a competition and the analysis was invited. Sheesh...

Oh my! I hope you all paid your $5000 ticket for $1000!! OR ELSE! The Consequences Could Be Dire!!!