Practicing tossing a(n American) football around with Zarai a while ago I realized something, I can't throw one properly to save my life...
TMD stared down the rows of armed executionors. Here he was destined to be executed for reasons that he himself did not know. He had been told that his sole bid for freedom would be based on his failure. The minutes tick by. A sole bead of pespiration slips slowly down his neck. On the far side of the chamber a door slides open - slowly TMD notes. Out walks a man dressed in a uniform similar to the others. A medal and stripe on his chest marks his supierior ranking. The man is carrying something behind his back. TMD waits for what seems like eons as the engimatic being walked to him. In one swift movement the man drew an object from behind his back. An official size football. TMD's eyes widened noticibly.
"It's a football as you can see," The enigma stated sourly. "Your life will be spared if you can throw it four yards. Properly." A cold grin creeps across his face, the room tempreture drops noticably. TMD takes the oval learther-clad object in his hand. He gauges the weights. He waits a few moments, does a series of test throws. The enigmatic man's smile grins considerably. TMD hefts the ball up and throws. His arm swings forward, he adds a twist and releases the ball. TMD and the rest of the crowds' gaze follows it. The ball swings and wobbles like an injured sparrow.
Darn
A gunshiot fires.
It's over.
TMD