Marshfellow: The Softest of Them All

"Clairag the airbag?" Marshfellow asked in disbelief. "Who's making up these names?

Clairag boasted, "You're just mad because our accents and diction are pretty similar."

"You know, she is correct," I nodded. "Pretty sure it is just an odd coincidence, though. You still have 62 matches to go, so the author might need to pace himself."

Marshfellow argued, "Whatever. She's still unimportant; just a stepping stone to my 66th victory which is how I'll learn the secret all the other great colliders have; why the cloud exists."

"The reason it exists is so I can shove you onto it, dimwit!" Clairag commented dismissively.

"She's pretty aggressive, isn't she?" observed Marshfellow.

"Don't talk like I'm incapable of hearing you, you rascal! That's the narrator's job!" Clairag shouted.

But you can hear me. We established that last chapter... Clairag? You there? Really? All of a sudden you cannot hear me? Marshfellow? You as well? Good! Both of those characters are awfully written morons who wish they were as handsome as I and furthermo-

"Wow. Tha' narrat'r guy really hates these collid'rs," said some kid in the stands with annoyingly omnipotent hearing who better stop talking if he knows what is good for him.

"What didja say about my child? Boy, you dun done it now!" the child's mother glared at me as I realized I might need to get to the safe room.

Marshfellow chided, "Narrator's just a loser who won't do anything to anybody's face. Don't worry 'bout him, ma'am."

Well, we will just see about that, will we not?

"Soft talk from a guy who's 'bout to lose himself. Guess this chapter should be renamed 'last bout'," taunted Clairag.

"Look who's talking, acting like you're soft," Marshfellow mocked. "You're so overly compressed, crash test dummies try to hit the windshield for safety!"

"Ohh!" uttered the crowd simultaneously.

"Well, you're so stale to the point of hardness, they'd use you as a brick in gingerbread houses!" Clairag retaliated.

"Daa-yang!" uttered the crowd in unison.

"You're so uninflatable," grinned Marshfellow, "that you couldn't get air from a respirator with an oxygen mask!"

"Awww, snap!" uttered the crowd all together.

"You're so brittle," Clairag prodded, "that you could be blown into powder from a caterpillar sneezing!"

"Oooh!" uttered the crowd all at once. Seriously, how are they doing that? The same phrases at the same time as each other? Are they a hive mind or-

"My mother's husband's daughter's second best friend's uncle's grandfather's granddaughter's non-reciprocated best friend's step-mother's son was blown away by a caterpillar sneeze..." Marshfellow lamented.

"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry," apologized Clairag.

"Gotcha! You sure are sorry! That would've been me, dummy," Marshfellow sneered.

"Booo!" uttered the crowd, but at different times than one another, finally.

Clairag cackled, "Dumb me? Why're you calling yourself dumb?"

"Hey! I already used that one several chapters ago!" argued Marshfellow.

So you did know what I meant after all, correct, Marshfellow? ...Marshfellow? Oh, I forgot.

I said, "So you did know what I meant after all, correct, Marshfellow?"

"I've never seen that guy in my life!" LIED Marshfellow.

"The match starts now," I whispered with my back turned to Marshfellow just within earshot of Clairag.

Clairag disappointedly stated, "I refuse to bounce somebody in any unfair manner. I'm too good for that."

"No, I'm way too good for that!" challenged Marshfellow. "Even if you cheat, I'll still win!"

You have not even had one- ahem, I argued, "You have not even had one straightforward victory in your entire professional career!"

"I haven't needed one yet," rebutted Marshfellow.

"Pretty sure you could not handle the Levitation Meditation Demonstration last chapter," I remarked.

Marshfellow replied smugly, "Pretty sure I still won though."

"Cheaply," muttered Clairag, shaking her head in disgust.

"All's fair in love and war," Marshfellow philosophied, "and since I love colliding, which is kinda like a battle in a war, totally fair to me!"

"My father's aunt's neighbor's cousin's frenemy's dog's owner's non-reciprocated friend's cousin's neighbor's nephew's daughter died in a war..." Clairag mentioned with much melancholy.

"Is that your way of saying it's you?" Marshfellow inquired sarcastically.

"Nope. Ha! It's my sister, but she's in the crowd right now. Hi, sis!" Clairag capriciously spoke.

"Booo!" the crowd uttered impeccably as one. This again?

"Do you have a pro'lem, mist'r?" the not so annoying boy who's mother is probably still here questioned me.

Plenty, but you do not hear me complaining.

He replied, "Acchally, tha's pretty much all I hear you-"

Shh, shh! Quiet!

"Don't wave 'hi' to me, you piece of flat plastic!" screamed Clairag's sister, Gairyag. "You just made a joke 'bout me being dead! After all that fighting I did in the war... kick her inflation module, Marshfellow!"

"I was just trying to match him in all fairness and I didn't want him to predict it so easily," teared up Clairag. "I'm sorry, sis."

"I'm in love, sis!" Marshfellow flirted. "How 'bout you and I have our own private victory dinner? You can see how gentle I really am..."

"Ooh! I can't wait to feel your firmless muscles," giggled Gairyag.

"Really, sis?" queried Clairag incredulously.

Gairyag snapped, "It's not my fault you don't know a good man when you see one!"

"He's a marshmallow!" Clairag highlighted.

Marshfellow specified, "I'm an anthropomorphic marshmallow which means I have the same features as a man, so it's not entirely unreasonable to-"

"That does it! Let's start the match!" thundered Clairag.

"We already did," I exasperated.

Clairag reasoned, "I'm telling everybody that because I'm trying to be fair. No excuses for losing, marshpebble!"

"Whatever. I'm ready, airstag!" Marshfellow insulted.

Marshfellow jumped at Clairag. Clairag jumped at Marshfellow. It was a perfect bash resulting in both opponents being projected away from the point of crash; Marshfellow went a noticeably further amount of distances than Clairag, though.

"Wow. You're pretty good," commented Marshfellow.

Clairag screamed, "I don't need your pity, you piece of rock candy!"

Marshfellow sincerely admitted, "I'm actually impressed. I wanna win just because you're so much of a good competitor that beating you would mean a lot to me."

"Oh," blushed Clairag. "Well, then let's both do our best."

Can somebody please do something funny?

"You gonna look ril funny when I'm done stompin' you out, boy!" said the boy's mother, now returned from the concession stand. What kind of irresponsible mother just leaves her kid in the public sector by himself with nobody watching him for who knows how long?

She bellowed, "You lil' trashy piece o-"

"Hold it! I am the handsome announcer and referee of this match. I have a responsibility to fulfill madam," I quickly interrupted. "Do not cause any distractions until the collision is completed. Cannot we just have a match without any humor for once?"

"But didnchu aks fer somebody to do somethin' funn-" the little boy annoyed.

Shh, shh! Quiet!

"You're lucky you matter in this match," said the little boy's mother.

Yes, indeed, I am. Just going to put on my running shoes before the match gets too intense... there we go. Oh, no! We missed part of it.

Marshfellow and Clairag quickly pressed against one another, each other's softness preventing any significant ricochet from occurring. Each slam was muffled from the lack of sturdiness of each competitor despite each's immense structural integrity.

"Had enough?" playfully smirked Clairag.

Marshfellow gently quipped, "Not until you touch that cloud."

They thrusted against one another again, but this time, Clairag shouted, "Nuclear Blast!"; she fully inflated instantly, sending Marshfellow catapulting upward toward the cloud.

"Where'd you come up... with a name like that?" Marshfellow panted.

"You have the 'nuking'. I have the 'Nuclear Blast'. They're similar, but-" Clairag casually mentioned before being interrupted.

Marshfellow accused, "You copyright-infringing crook! Now I can't let you win!"

Marshfellow barely avoided the cloud by using his anti-gravity sugars that we are only mentioning now to slow his ascent; if not for his unique properties, he could not have ever made it this far. As he drifted downward, he spun like a top and when he became eithin range of Clairag, he cried out, "Nuking!"

Clairag began rotating... and stopped after one rotation, leaving all in attendance other than her shocked in amazement at her shocks; or her shocks-like ability more precisely. "That's not enough," she haughtily stated as she leapt to tackle Marshfellow's enlarged form.

Contact was made between the two opponents for a moment... it looked like it would result in just another repelling as usual... when suddenly, Marshfellow's body went concave. Clairag fell first into, then through, the marshmallow before reacting with a "Nuclear Blast" echoing throughout the arena. Her special, totally original technique that was far from derivative in its entirety was meant to increase her surface area, thus slowing her acceleration toward the cloud. While she did succeed at reaching zero velocity, her increased volume brought her proximit- what is with all of the math and science terminology? One of her corners barely tapped the cloud. See how simple that can be?

Clairag smiled sweetly. "You really are the softest," she admitted.

"I forgive you! Goodbye!" Gairyag's voice reverberated.

The crowd was... looking at me? Why? What did I do?

"The match is over an' you bin gittin' on my las' nerve!" said that annoying boys mother. Running shoes, do not fail me now! See you in chapter six!

Oh, uh, Marshfellow stated plainly, "We could've had a nice sportsmanship moment for once. This narrator is-"

Could not hear the rest of the statement. Oh, well!