Tonga Bob
Call me Ishmael
- Oct 26, 2013
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A wombat waddles into a bar, takes a tankard of ale and sits in the corner. Nobody notices him as he sits and surveys the room. He sees flogs and campaigners everywhere. He overhears talk of evil rising in the east, threatening the good land of Sweet and rumours of the Evil Eye's simulated forces marching upon the fertile lands of Coney Island. He takes a minute to reminisce of a time when Van Cortland Park was a bastion for all that is good, where much joy was to be had and where Whore Ents roamed wild and free. He is interrupted by murmurings of the Old King, exiled in the wastelands of Frangastan, tales of myth and legend about the one for whom medals and awards had been minted in his stocky image, prophesied by Kennedy Parker to one day return.
He hears about how, despite the ravages of the nefarious simulator and the fiends that support it, his former home is still buzzing with activity, albeit not in the way he remembers it. Sure, they have plundered trinkets along the journey and many of them. However they pale in comparison to the riches this land fully deserve. A gloom had descended upon the place he once called home. So, tankard emptied, the wombat makes his way to Van Cortland Park and seeks to gain entrance. He approaches the Steward of Coney Island who stands at the gate, eating a taco. The Steward asks "The f*ck are you?", to which the wombat throws back the cloak from off his furry head and announces "I am Frankston Rover, first of my name, founder of the Coney Island Warriors, bearer of the name of your Best & Fairest medal and of the Award for services to the land, Life Memeber, Hall of Fame inductee. And I have returned".
The people of Coney Island stopped and gasped, suspicious of this interloper. pantskyle shat himself and flung it suspiciously. The patriach zackah approached, looked him up and down and, with an acknowledging realisation, took a knee and proclaimed "The prophecy is fulfilled - the King of Coney Island has returned!" Bells rang from the towers (I didn't realise we had towers but whatever), celebrations were had, and the word spread throughout the whole of Sweet of the Return of the one they call Frankie.
So to celebrate this milestone season in the Sweet FA, I proudly announce a return ten seasons in the making. The return of a wombat who strikes awe and fear into the hearts of lesser people. The return of the one and only Frankston Rover.
The Return Of The King.
