The Damned Lies Project

Wherein I fight a monster and meet the Emperor.

The next match isn’t even worth recounting.  He was dressed in a karate uniform that might have been red at one point but had faded to pink.  He had his long hair in a pony tail, and no beard, which was always surprising for a hobo.  But he was not a good fighter.  I’m not sure why anyone would put him in a fight except as joke.

That led me to my third fight.  This was the last match of the finals.  Whoever won this match would get to meet the Emperor and face the reigning “champeen”.  I was amped up and ready for this fight, but much of my excitement died just before the fight.  I turned around to Kirby and others in my corner and said, “What the hell is this?”

What awaited me was some sort of abomination.  Read the rest of this entry »

Wherein I reach the gathering, learn about the Emperor, and have my first tournament bout.

The gathering was held in an uninhabited part of West Texas.  As we rode in on the train, the summer heat was unbearable.  The boxcar door remained open, and I spent most of my time sitting on the edge so that the wind cooled me.  I felt like a happy dog with my face in the wind, but the truth was I wasn’t exactly happy.  Besides the heat making me miserable, I was nervous about the tournament.  They were only taking the top fighters, so it’d only be a max of four fights.  Even still, that’s more than I was used to in one night.

I watched the scenery go by for hours before Kirby tapped me in the shoulder.  The spot was coming up.  Since this gathering would be huge, we needed it away from any main cities.  No non-hobos could ever know about this gathering.  It would scare them.  So to get there, we were leaping off the train at a preappointed spot.  By this point, we were in the dryer West Texas where rock formations dotted the scorched earth.  The jumping point was when you saw the rock that looked like it was giving the middle finger.  When I heard it, I thought that would be hard to notice.  But when I saw it, I’m not sure how anyone could miss it.  West Texas was giving you a big old Fuck You as you rode the train by. Read the rest of this entry »

Wherein I rip off a montage and I earn an invitation.

What followed my indoctrination into bare knuckle hobo boxing was a series of fights as I went up the circuit ladder.  We rode the rails, and outside of each town, somewhere near the tracks there was a clearing where the hobos congregated at night.  While some came for company, many came just to see the fights.

I won fight after fight and travelled to so many out of the way nowheres that the whole experience is one long blur of trains, punches, and victories.  Imagine an Eighties montage of “You’re the Best” by Joe Esposito with me punching hobos and them crumpling to the floor.  The montage and music are very important to that image.  Otherwise, I look like a psychopath who likes beating up homeless people for fun.  That’s not true.

It was only a little fun. Read the rest of this entry »

So we’re trying something new. Here’s our first ever webcomic. Click to enlarge if needed.  Enjoy!

Feedback and comments are of course appreciated.

Wherein I discover a hidden talent and acquire a new name.

“And now the challenger:  Tennessee Tex Tornado!”

You might be surprised to find out that I was that challenger.  No, I wasn’t from Tennessee, I wasn’t from Texas, and I’m not sure how someone could be from both.  Was I a tornado?  That was just flair.  But in boxing a flurry of punches is a very good thing.  Especially if it’s on the Hobo Boxing Circuit. Read the rest of this entry »