Burner versus Pacman

[PensionKiller]

Round 1:

Pac darts furiously to Burner. Burner tries to jab with his long arms, Pac ducks under and hits his body.

Burner drops back with a tight guard, Pac darts around him and starts throwing punches, 3 to 5 a second, the Manilla Ice, the powerful left, blistering speed, power all hitting the target against this stationary 15 follars an hour man.

Pac then twists under to Burner's left and hits the kidney.

BOOM!

Burner is on the floor doing an Oscar De La Hoya.

Pac finally beats his first slick African American.

Not slick in the ring, but on Boxing Scene.

Nothing personal, just doing my job

[Equilibrium]

Round 1- Burner comes out using his jab and reach advantage and uses the jab to keep Pac at bay. Pac is walking right into it and cant seem to get around it. Pac get close, Burner clinches until the ref resets them. Pacman wants to brawl but Burner is moving the whole time. Round 1-Burner.

Round 2- Pac visibly upset that Burner wont trade wit him. Comes out swinging like a mad man. Burner grabs and holds on taking a few shots inbetween. But nothing big. The ref resets them and Pac catches Burner with a wild hook. Burner wobbles around and is obviously hurt. Pac tries to finsh him but Burner low blows the hell out of him. Pac is on the ground rolling around in pain. The ref deducts a point. Round 2- Pacquiao.

Round 3- Pacquiao is steaming now. He comes out swinging again but Burner is sticking and moving trying to use that jab. Then all of sudden ringside Burner sees the great Paul Williams and he takes a minute to look over there and try to get the Punisher's attention, Paul sees him and points to the ring Burner turns around and a Pac right hook catches him square in the jaw. Burner is hurt again. Trying to hold on but a sneaky left hand drops Burner for the first time tonight. The ref gives him a count Burner is up at 7 seconds. Burner again looks over at Williams in the crowd and sees Williams shaking his head in disgust and leaving, while Burner is looking over there Pac hits him with a perfect shot. Ref stops the fight.

In your dreams, maybe.

[Oasis_Lad]

Burner sits alone in his dressing room, a copy of 'Big Earners Weekly' lays open on the dresser, next to it is a photo of Floyd Mayweather Jr. signed with big red lips.... it reads: "To my number one fan, Burner." next to that is an empty bucket - the letters KFC emblazoned across the front.

The door opens, Burner expectant rises to his feet awaiting a blinding succession of camera flashes but none come. Instead, in walks Dwayne, Burner's cousin and cornerman, revered genius of the family with an IQ of 68 "We gotta wrap your hands now, dawg." "Sure, homey." said Burner as he faked a smile.

"You're shaking" said Dwayne as he tried to steady Burner's hands to apply the wrapping. "Fuck off, dawg - I ain't scared of no *****! I'ma fuck up anybody up in dis ****"

"Calm down, Nicca. We don't want want you going out there all hot-headed or this speedy little fucker will make a fool outta you"

"You right, Bro. Let's just wrap my hands so I can go out there and KO this little foo' for my nicca Floyd"

Hands wrapped, heart beating, burner gets to his feet - his legs are unsteady. Burner and Dwayne open the door of the dressing room and begin the long walk along the corridor towards the ring. There's a constant humming which Burner knows is the crowd but he can't discern any of what's being chanted. Louder it grows and grows, time seems to be moving differently. Dwayne, behind Burner, his hands on his Cousin's shoulders showing support, has his head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. The floor is wet "This is a damn health hazard" Dwayne thinks to himself. "What's that? Steam?" Dwayne's eyes go from the ground to a discernible dribble coming from Burner's shorts... "Jesus Christ! He's gone and pissed himself"

Dwayne, lowers his head, shuts his eyes and tries not to breathe in as he trots towards the curtains with his fighter. "This isn't going to end well" Thinks Dwayne "And the motherfucker still owes me 4 Dollars and 78 Cents"

The curtains are drawn aside, a rapturous wave of noise, deafening in it's intensity washes over Burner almost toppling him off his already unsteady legs.

"Burner, you fuckin' imbecile!" one enraged fan hollers. "Fuck you, faggot!" another screams. A tear trickles down Burner's cheek, never has anyone been as harsh as this to him "Not even my Boxing Scene superior in every aspect, Makaveli" rues Burner.

"But fuck these bozos - I'll show them. I'ma knock this little Asian runt out"

Burner feeling rejuvenated, a strong belief inside himself, launches himself towards the ring, up the steps and after a few minutes manages to outwit the ring ropes and enters the ring.

Burner, strolls from post to post, getting himself acquainted with the ring. He meets the gaze of boxing analyst Max Kellerman, whom appears to be, bizarrely enough, dressed from head-to-toe in a cheerleader outfit with pictures of professional pugilist Paul Williams' face etched on every square inch. Max mouths something to Burner but Burner can't quite make it out......Max then holds up what appears to be a set of hotel room keys, signals the number 6 with his hand and winks.

Suddenly the whole arena erupts. Here comes Manny Pacquiao! Fighter of the Noughties and a top 30 ATG "Manny! Manny! Manny!" the entire arena chants in unison. Then, even louder, loud enough to wake even Ricky Hatton after a Manny left hook, the chants of "Manny, Bumaye! Manny, Bumaye! Manny, Bumaye!" begin in earnest. The entire crowd is one, one consciousness, willing this to take place.

Meanwhile, to the side of the ring, is the announcer's table, featuring: Jim Lampley, Larry merchant and Max Kellerman.

Lampley, admiring his own reflection in a TV monitor, is firing off an anecdote "Well, my pimp hand was strong that day let me tell you fellas..... ***** knows to move with my pipe and slippers when I tell her to now"

"As for this Burner or Milton, then I recall when I used to troll Boxing Scene forums - Even then you knew he was someone special, with special needs and probably wore diapers. But no one and I mean NO ONE! thought he was as dumb as to challenge Pacquiao to a fight..... isn't that right, Larry?"

Lampley turns to his right only to find a comatose Larry merchant in his announcer's chair with an empty bottle of vodka in his lap.

"Oh ****.... the fight..."

The referee stands in the middle of the ring, Manny Pacquiao, Champion of The Philippines, throwback fighter extraordinaire, in one corner, Burner, Champion for the argument in favour of abortion, who obviously got those cornrows for a dare, in the opposite corner.

"Fight!"

It's on, Ladies and Gentlemen.....

"Right, Milton, Play it cool" Burner whispers to himself "Just do what Paul Williams does: Thrown an exceptional amount of punches and be tough as nai..........."

Before he'd even thought out the sentence, Pacquiao had unleashed an eight-punch combination on Burner's wispy-haired chin, ending with a hellacious left hook.

Burner was out before he hit the ground.

[- v e t -]

Burner sits alone in his dressing room, a copy of 'Big Earners Weekly' lays open on the dresser, next to it is a photo of Floyd Mayweather Jr. signed with big red lips.... it reads: "To my number one fan, Burner." next to that is an empty bucket - the letters KFC emblazoned across the front.

The door opens, Burner expectant rises to his feet awaiting a blinding succession of camera flashes but none come. Instead, in walks Dwayne, Burner's cousin and cornerman, revered genius of the family with an IQ of 68 "We gotta wrap your hands now, dawg." "Sure, homey." said Burner as he faked a smile.

"You're shaking" said Dwayne as he tried to steady Burner's hands to apply the wrapping. "Fuck off, dawg - I ain't scared of no *****! I'ma fuck up anybody up in dis ****"

"Calm down, Nicca. We don't want want you going out there all hot-headed or this speedy little fucker will make a fool outta you"

"You right, Bro. Let's just wrap my hands so I can go out there and KO this little foo' for my nicca Floyd"

Hands wrapped, heart beating, burner gets to his feet - his legs are unsteady. Burner and Dwayne open the door of the dressing room and begin the long walk along the corridor towards the ring. There's a constant humming which Burner knows is the crowd but he can't discern any of what's being chanted. Louder it grows and grows, time seems to be moving differently. Dwayne, behind Burner, his hands on his Cousin's shoulders showing support, has his head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. The floor is wet "This is a damn health hazard" Dwayne thinks to himself. "What's that? Steam?" Dwayne's eyes go from the ground to a discernible dribble coming from Burner's shorts... "Jesus Christ! He's gone and pissed himself"

Dwayne, lowers his head, shuts his eyes and tries not to breathe in as he trots towards the curtains with his fighter. "This isn't going to end well" Thinks Dwayne "And the motherfucker still owes me 4 Dollars and 78 Cents"

The curtains are drawn aside, a rapturous wave of noise, deafening in it's intensity washes over Burner almost toppling him off his already unsteady legs.

"Burner, you fuckin' imbecile!" one enraged fan hollers. "Fuck you, faggot!" another screams. A tear trickles down Burner's cheek, never has anyone been as harsh as this to him "Not even my Boxing Scene superior in every aspect, Makaveli" rues Burner.

"But fuck these bozos - I'll show them. I'ma knock this little Asian runt out"

Burner feeling rejuvenated, a strong belief inside himself, launches himself towards the ring, up the steps and after a few minutes manages to outwit the ring ropes and enters the ring.

Burner, strolls from post to post, getting himself acquainted with the ring. He meets the gaze of boxing analyst Max Kellerman, whom appears to be, bizarrely enough, dressed from head-to-toe in a cheerleader outfit with pictures of professional pugilist Paul Williams' face etched on every square inch. Max mouths something to Burner but Burner can't quite make it out......Max then holds up what appears to be a set of hotel room keys, signals the number 6 with his hand and winks.

Suddenly the whole arena erupts. Here comes Manny Pacquiao! Fighter of the Noughties and a top 30 ATG "Manny! Manny! Manny!" the entire arena chants in unison. Then, even louder, loud enough to wake even Ricky Hatton after a Manny left hook, the chants of "Manny, Bumaye! Manny, Bumaye! Manny, Bumaye!" begin in earnest. The entire crowd is one, one consciousness, willing this to take place.

Meanwhile, to the side of the ring, is the announcer's table, featuring: Jim Lampley, Larry merchant and Max Kellerman.

Lampley, admiring his own reflection in a TV monitor, is firing off an anecdote "Well, my pimp hand was strong that day let me tell you fellas..... ***** knows to move with my pipe and slippers when I tell her to now"

"As for this Burner or Milton, then I recall when I used to troll Boxing Scene forums - Even then you knew he was someone special, with special needs and probably wore diapers. But no one and I mean NO ONE! thought he was as dumb as to challenge Pacquiao to a fight..... isn't that right, Larry?"

Lampley turns to his right only to find a comatose Larry merchant in his announcer's chair with an empty bottle of vodka in his lap.

"Oh ****.... the fight..."

The referee stands in the middle of the ring, Manny Pacquiao, Champion of The Philippines, throwback fighter extraordinaire, in one corner, Burner, Champion for the argument in favour of abortion, who obviously got those cornrows for a dare, in the opposite corner.

"Fight!"

It's on, Ladies and Gentlemen.....

"Right, Milton, Play it cool" Burner whispers to himself "Just do what Paul Williams does: Thrown an exceptional amount of punches and be tough as nai..........."

Before he'd even thought out the sentence, Pacquiao had unleashed an eight-punch combination on Burner's wispy-haired chin, ending with a hellacious left hook.

Burner was out before he hit the ground.

[Left Banned Tua]

too damn long.

edit that **** , scotsman.

[- v e t -]

too damn long.

edit that **** , scotsman.

lazy fat yank

[Oasis_Lad]

too damn long.

edit that **** , scotsman.

Maximum number of paragraphs?

[The Underboss]

Burner kills me ..

''Since when is Gamboa black?'' .

[kadyo's]

Burner sits alone in his dressing room, a copy of 'Big Earners Weekly' lays open on the dresser, next to it is a photo of Floyd Mayweather Jr. signed with big red lips.... it reads: "To my number one fan, Burner." next to that is an empty bucket - the letters KFC emblazoned across the front.

The door opens, Burner expectant rises to his feet awaiting a blinding succession of camera flashes but none come. Instead, in walks Dwayne, Burner's cousin and cornerman, revered genius of the family with an IQ of 68 "We gotta wrap your hands now, dawg." "Sure, homey." said Burner as he faked a smile.

"You're shaking" said Dwayne as he tried to steady Burner's hands to apply the wrapping. "Fuck off, dawg - I ain't scared of no *****! I'ma fuck up anybody up in dis ****"

"Calm down, Nicca. We don't want want you going out there all hot-headed or this speedy little fucker will make a fool outta you"

"You right, Bro. Let's just wrap my hands so I can go out there and KO this little foo' for my nicca Floyd"

Hands wrapped, heart beating, burner gets to his feet - his legs are unsteady. Burner and Dwayne open the door of the dressing room and begin the long walk along the corridor towards the ring. There's a constant humming which Burner knows is the crowd but he can't discern any of what's being chanted. Louder it grows and grows, time seems to be moving differently. Dwayne, behind Burner, his hands on his Cousin's shoulders showing support, has his head bowed, eyes fixed on the ground. The floor is wet "This is a damn health hazard" Dwayne thinks to himself. "What's that? Steam?" Dwayne's eyes go from the ground to a discernible dribble coming from Burner's shorts... "Jesus Christ! He's gone and pissed himself"

Dwayne, lowers his head, shuts his eyes and tries not to breathe in as he trots towards the curtains with his fighter. "This isn't going to end well" Thinks Dwayne "And the motherfucker still owes me 4 Dollars and 78 Cents"

The curtains are drawn aside, a rapturous wave of noise, deafening in it's intensity washes over Burner almost toppling him off his already unsteady legs.

"Burner, you fuckin' imbecile!" one enraged fan hollers. "Fuck you, faggot!" another screams. A tear trickles down Burner's cheek, never has anyone been as harsh as this to him "Not even my Boxing Scene superior in every aspect, Makaveli" rues Burner.

"But fuck these bozos - I'll show them. I'ma knock this little Asian runt out"

Burner feeling rejuvenated, a strong belief inside himself, launches himself towards the ring, up the steps and after a few minutes manages to outwit the ring ropes and enters the ring.

Burner, strolls from post to post, getting himself acquainted with the ring. He meets the gaze of boxing analyst Max Kellerman, whom appears to be, bizarrely enough, dressed from head-to-toe in a cheerleader outfit with pictures of professional pugilist Paul Williams' face etched on every square inch. Max mouths something to Burner but Burner can't quite make it out......Max then holds up what appears to be a set of hotel room keys, signals the number 6 with his hand and winks.

Suddenly the whole arena erupts. Here comes Manny Pacquiao! Fighter of the Noughties and a top 30 ATG "Manny! Manny! Manny!" the entire arena chants in unison. Then, even louder, loud enough to wake even Ricky Hatton after a Manny left hook, the chants of "Manny, Bumaye! Manny, Bumaye! Manny, Bumaye!" begin in earnest. The entire crowd is one, one consciousness, willing this to take place.

Meanwhile, to the side of the ring, is the announcer's table, featuring: Jim Lampley, Larry merchant and Max Kellerman.

Lampley, admiring his own reflection in a TV monitor, is firing off an anecdote "Well, my pimp hand was strong that day let me tell you fellas..... ***** knows to move with my pipe and slippers when I tell her to now"

"As for this Burner or Milton, then I recall when I used to troll Boxing Scene forums - Even then you knew he was someone special, with special needs and probably wore diapers. But no one and I mean NO ONE! thought he was as dumb as to challenge Pacquiao to a fight..... isn't that right, Larry?"

Lampley turns to his right only to find a comatose Larry merchant in his announcer's chair with an empty bottle of vodka in his lap.

"Oh ****.... the fight..."

The referee stands in the middle of the ring, Manny Pacquiao, Champion of The Philippines, throwback fighter extraordinaire, in one corner, Burner, Champion for the argument in favour of abortion, who obviously got those cornrows for a dare, in the opposite corner.

"Fight!"

It's on, Ladies and Gentlemen.....

"Right, Milton, Play it cool" Burner whispers to himself "Just do what Paul Williams does: Thrown an exceptional amount of punches and be tough as nai..........."

Before he'd even thought out the sentence, Pacquiao had unleashed an eight-punch combination on Burner's wispy-haired chin, ending with a hellacious left hook.

Burner was out before he hit the ground.

Bwahahahahahaha!!!! Someone better beat this one from oasis lad. Multiple entries are allowed and I will announce the winner two days from now.

Nice one, mate.

[Left Banned Tua]

Maximum number of paragraphs?

?

just make it less than 2000 words.