AP WIRE REPORT: URQUHART'S FURY RETURNS

FURIOUS GEORGE STUMBLES... CHEWY'S STREAK COMES TO AN END... URQUHART'S FURY RETURNS

Portland, OR (AP)

Monday night was a potentially historic night for Furious George and their fans. Chewy entered the night on a six game winning streak, one away from a new team record. Those who came early said the pre-game tension was almost unbearable. By 6:45, many fans were weeping openly, for no apparent reason. Others wrung their hands and gnawed on the rims of dirty pint glasses, trying hard to stay calm. Many fist fights were reported in the urinals. Nervous Binkstenders roamed throughout the establishment, confiscating small arms and grappling with drunkards. Gangs of crazed tennagers prowled the sidewalk outside, beating the mortal crap out of luckless stragglers as they anxiously awaited the arrival of their underground cult hero, Chewy Webb.

Inside the pool room, Urquhart chain smoked Marlboro Lights and drank heavily. 'Get me another goddam whiskey!' he shouted to his lap dog Creepywhite, 'and get that sonovabitch Bam Bam on the phone! NOW!!' Urqhuart fully understood the gravity of the night's match. After starting off the session with 1-4 loss, he had suddenly become, well, how shall we say... testy.

And to make matters worse, he was short one player. He stood up and kicked his stool out from underneath himself, cursing his luck for being snakebit with such an incompetent group of misfits. He had little patience for the no-shows - not tonight. He vowed to grab Veto by his gaping nostrils and tear him a new asshole when he saw him again. Bam Bam, he ranted, would be lucky to ever get served another drink in this Godforsaken town. The players and fans could almost taste his anger, and the stench of his foul B.O. hung in the air like a thick skunk fart. The smell was stronger than a ton of rotten mangos. His nuckles turned white. His eyes grew wild. His nerves oozed and burned like open soars on a dog's neck... Strange fluids welled up inside of his teammates throats, and the taste was sharper than bile. The stage was set. The first act was about to begin.

Willie went first and failed to ease Urquhart's tension. He lost and quickly heard a howl of profanity coming from his coach. He felt a warm rush of breath against his neck as Urquhart screamed in his ear like a deranged lunatic. It was all incoherent gibberish, and Willie closed his eyes, praying helplessly for it all to end.

Next up was Chewy. For a moment anyway, the team soaked up the roar of the crowd and felt a wave of hope run over them. The underground cult hero energized the room like no other player possibly could. Unfortunately, not even he could hold onto the mojo long enough to secure a victory. His winning streak came crashing to an end. Fans were stunned, and stared blankly into the black night like shell shocked soldiers who had just emerged from a month long battle. Some wandered into the streets, seemingly unaware of the honking horns and oncoming traffic.

Thankfully, Urquhart and Creepy managed to keep their composure at the table and were able to come away with wins. Somehow, Furious George found themselves tied up 2-2. Indeed, there was still a glimmer of hope. But without a 5th available player, Urquhart was at the mercy of a recall. This sent him into a boiling rage once again. Sensing the devastation in the crowd and the shock in their beloved cult hero, his opponent chose Chewy. But the emotion of his recent loss was too much for our hero to overcome. He was distracted, and still busy consoling his hoards of grief stricken fans. Many had begun to drink heavily and were openly contemplating suicide. Chewy faught valiantly - as is his trademark - but failed to come through with a win in his second match of the night.

Urquhart's legendary temper reared its ugly head once again. He grew savage, and felt some kind of subliminal, un-focused need to take out his vengence on the press. He snarled and fumed, taking aim at the absent Veto and the missing Bam Bam. One could hardly blame him for being so mad. Fuirous George had let their fearless leader down once again, stumbling out of the gates to a dismal 0-2 start.

'If we don't get our act together in a hurry,' commented an astute Creepywhite, 'its going to be a long session for everyone.'