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N-R-L on earth: A finals fantasy prediction

Roar Guru
10th September, 2014
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The Cowboys and Tigers face off in a classic Saturday night encounter. (Digital Image Grant Trouville © nrlphotos.com).
Roar Guru
10th September, 2014
7

Friday night, and the wounded Sea Eagle spots its favourite prey in the urban jungle of Sydney. Forced to travel so far from its muddy home land, the Sea Eagle launches a vicious attack at the helpless Bunny.

Unlike the lone Eagle, who rarely travels this far in numbers, the Rabbits have gathered their kin. Led by the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, they easily fend off the injured bird’s lacklustre efforts.

Hurt, the Sea Eagle retreats northward, complaining bitterly the whole trip home. The Rabbits rejoice, and celebrate with Ham Burgesses and Tuqiri Sunrises. They can be heard Croweing ’til early morn’.

The next day, the brave Panther is spotted hunting on the same plain. Stealthy as the night, it ducks everyone’s radar, leaving only Fresh Prince, as it circles the hen house.

Meanwhile, the Rooster, unaware of the imminent danger, struts around its coop with an air of fowl arrogance that can only come from last season’s top cock award.

Sleepy, in the afternoon sun, missing its midday Napa, the Big Cat pounces and feathers go flying; the whole place is awash with red and blue blood and bones as white as a Hindy Moon.

The Rooster alone remains, and all hope seems lost. But just as his fate appears to be settled, the skies open up and the battle turns a Cordner. Down comes the rain. The Big Cat turns into a Big Pussy and retreats, but to Whare? No one knows.

A L’estrange sight indeed. The lone Rooster lives to fight another day, battered but with time on its side. The Panther too, will fight again, though weary and battle-Sika.

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Meanwhile, up north, the flashy Cowboy, with his leather chaps and unparalleled style, will try to break in the last of the Wild Broncos. Hair messy and unshaved, he recalls with a fright his last haircut, and how the Barba had almost sliced him open with his trusty Gillet.

The mighty Bronco looks up from his wild Oates, for he senses the Hunt. An epic battle commences, with the Bronco not giving an inch. The two foes battle front on for what seems like an age. But then, Justin time, the horse uses its back(s) end to strike an almighty blow, surging away from the hapless, broken, man.

This would have killed a lesser man, and may well Kostjasyn the bout, but this Cowboy knows these paddocks like the back of his hand, and he won’t be giving up on a fight that is 19 years in the making.

For 80 minutes they do battle, back and forth, equal in their desperation. After 90 gruelling minutes, the Cowboy, with an almost magical flick of the wrist, has the prized stallion under rope. The Cowboy, exhausted, has his ride, and sets off down south to see what other adventures might be found. The Bronco a Bronco no more.

The very next night on the cold, dank streets of inner city Melbourne, a young Bulldog is banished outside. For it has peed on the rug at the recollection of the Titanic Rabbit it encountered in the previous weeks.

Never mind, for this Bulldog is bigger than most, and easily able to defend itself against any strays it might encounter. He sees many sights, a Perret squawks loudly behind him. All of a sudden, from the corner of his eye, attack. The assailant pulls a Smith and Weston, bullet Chambers-ed.

With little thought he tears at the arm with his Bulldog grip, the assailant flees. He is safe, Fonua.

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A light drizzle begins to fall, McLean–ing the grime from the city’s streets. A little rain never hurt anyone, the tough Dog thinks to himself. I can deal with this Slater. I have taken on the rain and won twice this year already. Have at you, dark night.

Like that three bolts rip down from the heaves in perfect combination and strikes just metres from the Dog. But it’s not the light that worries the pup, it’s what comes next.

A thunderous clap rings out and the brave canines’ stubby tail freezes stiff. Mbye, he whimpers as he flees the rumble. Surely he can make it back to the house in time, this city is just too much Hasle-r, but alas the door is locked.

Doors are no problem for this pup though as he rips it from its very hinge. He has made it home, but this Storm has taken its Tolman, he won’t be coming back outside to play for some time.

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