The story: So there I was, coming out of the badminton center after an exhausting work out. I heard a muffled cry and ran to see if I could help. Around the side of the building 3, no 5 hooded thugs were dragging an innocent and beautiful virgin away as she struggled and screamed.
"Where you guys think you're taking that Virgin?" I asked.
"None of your BEEP BEEP BEEP you BEEPIN' BEEP!"
That's when I knew what I had to do. Deftly I slipped my glistening racket from my racket pouch, careful to select the 1000 baht Succeed brand instead of my 3000 baht Yonex. Then I attacked, swinging my racket like a mad man, but a mad man on a mission. The virgin, who later I found out was named Quing Ming, shoved away one of her assailants and stood with her hands on her face watching me as I cut to ribbons her evil abductors.
"Thank you," she hummed as the 7 hooded men lay at my feet unconscious.
"No problem," I respond, sliding my racket back within my pouch like a sword returning to its sheath. "I needed work on my backhand anyway."
The TRUTH: I was scrambling backward because my opponent, Austin, had hit a deep clear and when I swung my racket it slipped out of my sweaty hand and the racket edge slammed into my eye dropping me to the wooden planks of the badminton court like a boxer being tagged by a 20 year old Tyson.
