So it has come down to us, mighty few, our backs to the wall as our opponents face us, brows furrowed in grim determination, hands full with implements of our undoing.
We've fought, so long it seems, and we've lost good people. In their memory, for their honor, we stand, ready.
I've been running so long, I don't know if I have the strength to save myself, should the next volley come my way.
From their eyes we know, they will do whatever it takes to defeat us. There can be only one victor here.
As I search for a way to save my comrades, an opponent turns to me and lets fly. A dull thud heralds contact with my abdomin. It's over.
A big, blue, squishy ball to the groin.
Guess I should've jumped left.
Dodgeball: If you can't take the heat, stay the fuck outta dodge.
Alternate end mottos also included:
-leaving you breathless
-because all you're good for is hitting other people
-shut up and throw
-not just for the playground anymore
-grab some balls
-because your girlfriend won't touch your balls
(I went with the "outta dodge" because I like cussing.)