In contrast to Maxwell's grand entrance, Fletcher entered the arena by simply walking calmly with his hands in his pockets, taking a look around at the audience as he approached the item rack. "Uh...hey there! I take it you're my opponent, then? Well, uh...nice ice show by the way. Impressive stuff."
The raccoon-like anthro glanced over his options on the rack, before swiping an electric toothbrush from the rack and storing it in his pocket for the time being. "Well, may the best tickler win. Good luck, uh...mind if I call you Max? ...Never mind, don't answer that, I probably shouldn't call you that." After taking his item, Fletcher walked back to his side of the arena in preparation for the match to start, waiting for Maxwell to pick his tool as well.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.11 seconds at 8:42pm on Nov 28, 2024 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author