Where did all my posts go? Mr. Krinkles

Mr. Krinkles knew this moment might very well make or break his career. Haphazardly, he strapped on his helmet. He picked up his unicycle and confidently strode to the ring of death. The stench hung heavy in the air, blood splatters on the concrete shimmered like a beacon of false hope. Mr. Krinkles took his position. With determination he mounted the Iron Fury, his trusty unicycle. He glared across the ring at his opponent, Furious George. George paused a moment to pick some gnats out of a young fan's hair. Mr. Krinkles' simian eyes blazed with untapped rage. Mr. Krinkles felt his mouth grow dry, his muscles tightened in anticipation. The whistle blew and his furry feet pedaled furiously. Furious George came at him quicker than anticipated but Mr. Krinkles was agile and dodged his first attack.
Figure out your opponent, strike their weak link. Mr. Krinkles knew the rules of primacycling, but Furious George seemed undefeatable. George again moved in for the kill and Mr. Krinkles darted out of the way. Fans screamed on the sidelines, they knew this was the fight of the century. Would youth and stamina or age and wisdom prevail? In primacycling, the point of the game is to either wound your opponent with your knife helmet so that they can no longer stay on their unicycle, or force them out of the ring. Furious George went for bloodshed while Mr. Krinkles, more noble, preferred to force them out of the ring.
For several rounds this continued, the attack and avoid. Neither seemed to be gaining any ground, and neither seemed to be tiring out. Then it happened. As George attempted to slice into Mr. Krinkles, he misjudged and rolled out to the very edge of the ring. Mr. Krinkles, delighted, flew over to his side and attempted to crowd him out. George was precariously balanced, about to go over the edge when, in desperation, he began stabbing randomly in Mr. Krinkles' direction. The blade of the knife sliced across Mr. Krinkles' forearm. This one move was his undoing. Mr. Krinkles wheeled backward, howling in pain. George, now filled with blood lust, charged forward. He was aiming for the throat.
Mr. Krinkles was through playing around. Never before had he intentionally attempted to seriously injure another primate; this time it was personal. Head down, he charged Furious George. The two collided in a spectacular cacophony of fur and blood. George flew backward from his unicycle, loudly hitting the concrete. Mr. Krinkles, although wounded, managed to stay on his unicycle. A referee ran over and held his arm triumphantly in the air. Relief washed over Mr. Krinkles; he had defeated the young whirlwind. As he shouted his his final yell of triumph, the world grew dim, everyone around him swirled into darkness.