Story one: The biggest game of all

Every now and then, there is a game so huge, the world holds its collective breath to watch. Devyn Aud was holding his breath. He had searched eBay, Craigslist, the Times and even gone to the stadium to search for a scalper. The lady at the ticket window was not moved by his tears. "Honey, if there's no tickets, I can't sell them to you." Sound logic, but Devyn Aud was not in a reasonable mood. He put his sweaty palms to the glass and leaned his head in. "I... need... tickets... to THIS game." It was a huge game. The Ticket Witch closed the window. Devyn closed his eyes.

"You do want a ticket, though, right man?" Devyn's eyes snapped open. He peeled his face off the glass and turned, slowly, calmly, so as to avoid frightening the voice. A cocked blue hat mocked his passion. The thin guy in the windbreaker put his hands in his jacket pockets. "Yes..." Devyn finally answered. "Do you have --" Devyn looked down the street. "Do you have... tickets?" Cocked mocking hat smiled like the cheshire cat. Devyn nearly expected him to fade away. Devyn closed his eyes. "How many tickets do you need, man?" The man was still there, hands in his pockets, wide smile and mocked cocking hat. Devyn bumbled, "Four, no five I mean three at least, but if you only have one I still want it." The man in blue drew his hands from his pockets. He held a wad of money in one hand, and two tickets in the other. "Do you want both of them, man?" Devyn nodded. But his eyes were on the wad of cash. Either the man had sold a lot of tickets, or this was going to hurt. "How much?" Devyn half said, half choked. He reached for his wallet. "One-fitty," the mocking cocking man in blue laughed. And still he didn't disappear. "Each or for two?" The wad of cash said, "Too much old man? I can find someone else who wants them." Devyn shook his head. "No, I want them." The three hundred dollars exchanged hands. Devyn held his palm up for the tickets, like a dusty farmer who senses rain. The tickets were in the air, in his hand, grasped by his fingers. He stared at them. He had them. The man in blue laughed a cheshire laugh and sauntered away. Devyn extended his hand into the sky and inhaled a shout. He had his tickets.

I know you all expected something to go wrong. The scalper may have given him bad tickets, or perhaps Devyn would have dropped them during the hand off, or maybe the man in blue would have drawn a gun and asked for the tickets back. Scalping is a lot like dealing drugs. But none of those things happened. Instead Devyn pointed his tickets at the sky just in time for your average, streetcorner raven to fly by and pluck them from his fingers. That's just happened, so let's watch his reaction.

His eyes were closed again. The raven was a block away. "I have my tickets!" Devyn praised himself. He peeked one eye open, just to see them again, at the end of his fingers, fluttering in the wind. The sky was gray, and felt like snow. And the only thing in his fingers was carelessness and perhaps a bit of a childhood insult, "Butterfingers."

But when it comes to football, one must think on one's feet and quickly too. Devyn jumped into an athletic stance and sized up the situation. This was not about three hundred dollars lost, or even tickets to the big game. This was now primal -- this was man against nature. Devyn looked to his left, then to his right. He pivoted on his right foot and bolted down the block like Michael Johnson in the hundred meters. His muscles were twitching, his knees were tweaking and his fat was bouncing like a washing machine. But he was light on his feet, quick, powerful -- a machine. If a Hummer had been in his way, he would have hit it like a tackle hits a kicker in the fourth quarter. Nothing could stop him. He was a monster.

He reached the corner, panting like a V12 at ten thousand feet. He leaned against the light post and waited for the light to change. Even Randy Moss needs to rest once in a while. The light changed and the raven was just across the street in a tree, waiting for the show down. "Cocky bird," Devyn thought to himself, "But he's never gone head to head against the Audacious Aud." It wasn't much of a pep talk but contenders don't need pep talks. He chugged across the street, sweat streaming behind him like froth from a boat. He was at the tree, and now the raven was about to meet the "Audacious Aud". Devyn reached for the low branches and started to climb. The raven bedded down for the night. Devyn swung his sweaty hamstrings like wrecking balls until he had enough momentum to gain the first branch. It was an unparalleled victory. "OOO who's afraid of the Aud!" Devyn crowed to himself. Peter Pan would have felt his exorbitant cockiness far inadequate to compete with Devyn Aud. It had been a while since Devyn had honestly considered his strengths and weaknesses. Like since high school.

The raven had estimated him though, and by the time Devyn had breached the second branch, during the moment his lovehandles got stuck on two branches Devyn was sure he could fit between -- by that moment, the Raven had left. He was in the next tree and Devyn was stuck. But when a man wants tickets to the game, he wants tickets to the game. He clambered down and made for the second tree. He was limping a bit now, and his chest was starting to hurt.

He tried the wrecking ball swing again, and nearly made it. Nearly. He laid flat on the pavement, his face staring up the tree at the raven. The raven cawed loudly, and that's when Devyn realized just how many ravens there are downtown.

But never fear, I'm a kind writer, and I know in these dire times, everyone needs a happy ending once in a while. So here you go:

There may be thousands of ravens per city block in every city in the world, but in this particular city block there was only one. And this particular raven had just dropped two tickets to the big game. Devyn stared into the heavens and heard the clouds split. Rain fell like it does in the movies, glass balls filled with lightning. The lightning lit more than the rain though. It sillouhetted the tree, and the raven, and it highlighted two scraps of paper floating like feathers between the drops of lightning. Devyn smiled: his tickets were returning to him. It had all been worth it. He was a machine, a monster, unstoppable. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

It was there, on the sidewalk, that five teenage guys discovered him. His body was stiff, blue and chilling to the touch, but upon his chest rested two tickets to the big game. One of the guys, visiting from Oklahoma, saw it as a sign. He plucked the tickets from Devyn's chest and handed one to his friend, Matt. The two went to the biggest game of the season: the Seahawks' first ever Superbowl appearance. And though the Seahawks lost, like they usually do, this story still has a happy ending. You see sometimes it's not winning that matters. It didn't matter who won the big game, only that there was a big game at all, and that both teams showed up to compete. And so it is with Devyn Aud. He may have lost the tickets, and his life, but at least he was a monster, a machine, a madman, unstoppable, on his way out.