[Heart of the POG™s] by BlipXP and Steward McOy - Blue Strokes

In this world, the strong prey upon the weak. It’s POG™ or be POG™ged.

What was once dismissed as a fad for kids had taken over the world. Wherever you went, whoever you met, you had to be ready to POG™ at a moment’s notice. It was how all disagreements were settled, and I mean all disagreements. Wars had been replaced by games of POG™. Even criminals had traded in their guns, preferring to mug people at slammerpoint instead.

POG™s were just that radical. They convinced everyone that violence was way un-cool.

But there was a dark side to the tubular phenom known as POG™. The only law left was survival of the POG™giest. Those who had the POG™s made the rules, and nobody had more POG™s than Leopold Unicorn, president of the World POG Federation™. He was only a teenager—just a few years older than me—but he ruled according to his whims, crushing whoever he pleased.

Every year, he hosted the International POG™ Championship. On paper, the tournament was an advertisement, a means to keep POG™ popular and increase sales. In reality, however, it was an excuse for Leopold to demonstrate his superiority. Challenger after challenger, he POG™ged them all with the legendary demon slammer, Muramasa.

That was about to change. I would POG™ all over Leopold and bring an end to his tyranny. Me, just a kid from the suburbs, one of thousands who’d been trampled on by Leopold. His thugs had POG™ged my father so hard that he’d been sent to the psychiatric ward for anxiety, and he still hadn’t recovered. It wasn’t an uncommon story. Plenty in the tournament had been gunning for Leopold, but only I had made it to the finals.

It wasn’t that I was better than them. Far from it. But I had something they didn’t: the legendary slammer, Dojigiri.

Glorious Nippon steel folded over a thousand times. The legendary slammers were the height of ancient Japanese craftsmanship. The perfect weapons. Legends told of Muramasa slamming bullets out of the air. But Dojigiri? In the right hands, Dojigiri could slam through tanks. Now, those two slammers were about to face off in a duel that could—no, would change the world.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, but I kept my cool as I approached the venue. My unzipped windbreaker fluttered behind me as I walked, its teal and magenta pattern dancing in the breeze. I was flanked by my friends. Those who had been with me from the beginning, and those who I had POG™ged during the tournament. We all had our own reasons, but we shared one goal: to defeat Leopold Unicorn.

As we approached the stage, thunderous cheering from the audience drowned out the fanfare. Bright lights wandered across the arena before settling their focus on me. I was glad I had kept my visor on. I would have looked like a total scrub squinting into the lights. Instead, the audience went wild at how hella tight I looked, with my spiked hair and confident grin. At that moment, I felt every bit the hero I was about to become.

Up on stage, Leopold was wearing his own confident smile, but I knew he was worried. He had sent his goons to POG™ me in the parking lot the night before, but I had turned the tables on them.

Climbing the stairs to the stage, I stood across from Leopold. There were so many things I wanted to say to him. I wanted him to know the pain he had caused so many, but I knew that, until I beat him, those words would be futile. I would have to let my POG™s do the talking. It was the only way he’d understand.

I reached into my totally gnarly fanny pack and pulled out a plastic tube. Popping it open, I laid the POG™s inside on the table, spreading my arms for all to bask in their glory. They were a mishmash of designs. Psychedelic 8-balls, skulls with glowing eyes, peace signs, cartoon characters, yin-yangs, corporate logos, simple drawings, and more. Some were holographic; most were not. The important thing, though, was that these were the POG™s I had won during the tournament. They carried with them the hopes and dreams of those I had defeated.

Leopold then did something I did not expect. Snapping his fingers, his servants brought Trapper Keeper®s onto the stage. Soon, he was surrounded by a veritable mountain of the binders. He idly flipped through them, occasionally pulling out a POG™ and lining it up across from one of mine. They were custom-made. Each had a photo of a person with a red X drawn atop.

When he placed down a POG™ with a photo of my father, I understood. The binders were a collection of all his victims. I figured he had hurt so many people that it was pointless to keep track, but evidently, he thought differently. He remembered each of his misdeeds, and he was fondly reveling in them as he matched faces to my POG™s.

I felt my rage build up inside me. It was time to s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-slam.

Nine rounds. First to five would win. Whoever won the coin flip would have an advantage. I called it in the air—tails, to show how cool I was—but it came up heads. We each pushed seven POG™s into the center, and the referee piled them up, adding a fifteenth POG™ to prevent any ties.

With an evil grin, Leopold raised Muramasa over his head. The audience went silent. We could all feel the pressure its evil aura exerted. When it crashed into the POG™s, it felt like I had been punched in the gut. I could only watch helplessly as they flew into the air and tumbled back to the table, landing face down.

The first round had gone to Leopold. It was a flawless victory.

Despair fell over the crowd. Once again, they feared, Leopold would be victorious. I knew I had to answer back. I had to return hope to the masses.

After fifteen more POG™s were stacked, I held Dojigiri aloft. It shone brightly under the lights, and a collective gasp ran through the crowd. They held their breaths, and I whipped Dojigiri towards the pile. When it collided, a heavenly note reverberated throughout the arena, and once again… all fifteen POG™s landed face down. The crowd erupted in applause.

When I looked back at Leopold, the smile had vanished from his face. There was only cold, hard hate in his eyes. In the next round, he threw Muramasa so hard that it bounced high into the air, and when it crashed back to the table, after all fifteen POG™s had been called in his favor, it snapped the table in half.

It was an intimidating display, but I couldn't help noticing how heavily he was breathing now. He was staring at me with such rage, I knew I had gotten under his skin. It was a murderous look, like he wished he could POG™ me with his eyes alone, but such a feat was beyond even the legendary slammers. If he wanted to beat me, he’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.

The organizers quickly replaced the table, and it was my turn once again. Undeterred by his actions, I flipped the entire stack of POG™s, tying it up, 2-2. We continued to trade blows in this manner. He would flip a stack, and then I would. The public were on the edge of their seats, awed by our moves as we both tried to find a weakness, no matter how minute, in our opponent. When we reached the final round, it was tied, 4-4.

The confident grin returned once again to Leopold’s face. He had won the coin flip, so he got to go first in the last round. All he had to do was flip this last stack, and he would win. I was defeated. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach in that instant.

No, not yet. It wasn’t over yet. I needed to believe in the heart of the POG™s.

Then Leopold made his last, decisive move…

Perhaps it was overconfidence, or perhaps Muramasa had grown tired of its cowardly master, but the demon slammer slipped from his hands on the way down. It collided with the edge of the stack, causing the POG™s to spray in an unpredictable pattern. As they tumbled through the air, I saw the POG™ with my father’s photo on it. It was spinning quickly, appearing to smack the other POG™s back down to the table, face up. One, two, three, four, five, six… seven! Seven POG™s landed face up, and seven face down.

Only my father’s POG™ was still tumbling through the air, as if in slow motion. If it landed face down, Leopold would win, but if it was face up, I still had a chance. Leopold and I were both holding our breaths. I could hear the roar of the crowd, cheering for me. My heartbeat accelerated like never before in my life. I could feel each beat as it pounded through my body.

And then that moment, which seemed to last an eternity, finally ended. The POG™ hit the table.

It landed face up.

Eight POG™s remained. All I needed to do was flip them. Leopold clenched his fists in frustration as the referee scooped the remaining POG™s into a new stack. Triumphantly, I thrust my hand into the air, once more giving the audience a view of the sacred Dojigiri, before slamming it down with all my might. I put everything I had into it. All the feelings I had collected over the past year, ever since my father was POG™ged. My frustrations at my powerlessness, the joy of making new friends, the bitterness of beating them in the tournament, and my elation that I was about to win.

At the last moment, I felt the murderous aura of Muramasa, and my arm seized up. Dojigiri fell from my fingers, colliding with the stack of POG™s. A smaller stack has less spring to it. It’s more unpredictable, and almost anything could happen. Once again, I saw my father’s POG™ sail into the air. This time it wasn’t spinning, however. It fell, and somehow, miraculously, landed on its edge.

It all depended on this last POG™. If it tipped over face down, I would win, but it just stood on edge. It was as if the two legendary slammers were locked in an invisible battle, each exerting pressure to try to tip it in their favor.

Everyone fell silent. They couldn’t believe what was happening. Sweat formed on Leopold’s brow, but I wasn’t worried. I believed in the heart of the POG™s, and I knew my father wouldn’t let me down. Even as a POG™ from my enemy’s side, he was definitely lending me his strength.

A sharp crack sounded from Muramasa, and the demon slammer split into pieces. Once again, Dojigiri had slain a demon. The POG™ fell onto its face.

Leopold was done. Not only had I POG™ged him, but without the demon slammer, he had no chance of coming back.

My friends rushed the stage and threw me into the air. This wasn’t just my victory, it was theirs too. This victory belonged to everyone.

But the championship belonged to me. I, alone, was the new international POG™champ.