MGoFiction: Inferno-Canto II

MGoFiction: Inferno-Canto II

Submitted by formerlyanonymous on July 3rd, 2010 at 2:46 PM

In the loosely adapted ways of Dante, I present to you the second canto of Formerly's Football Inferno. I promise nothing when it comes to grammar, punctuation, logical plots, or anything that normally goes into story writing.

For those of you unfamiliar, Dante walks through each region of hell to learn the sins and punishment by talking to those souls trapped. In the first circle of Dante's hell, Limbo, the souls that lived without knowing "God" were trapped, unable to reach heaven for praising "God", but not punished severely for they knew no better.

Past Cantos:

Canto I

Canto II


So following Davy Crockett into the burrow lead us down a tunnel. After a few hours, we reached a large opening, a vestibule, we had reached the outer limits of hell. As we entered, Davy explained that hell was a lot like how Dante described it in whatever the hell that book was. It's not important. Apparently there's 9 circles of hell, each holding certain groups of people based on their sins against Michigan football.

After crossing the river Acheron, I walked through the barren land and noticed several large groups of spirits in the distance. Crockett saw me eyeing the groups and broke the silence of the last few hours, "Here in the first circle of hell, you got all your non-fans. All those that lived before Michigan football, all those that never were exposed to Michigan are cast to this circle. This circle is the one that I call home. Ain't much torturing or anything here. We souls in these parts aren't punished for not knowing Michigan football because it just wasn't available. But since we weren't able to experience it, we can't ever make it to the Big House in the sky. It's not so bad, we just gotta put up with jerks like Thomas Jefferson. The man never shuts up about hooking up with a servant girl. Always gloating."

"Umm… alright?" I respond, trying to reassure myself that John Wayne, and even Davy Crockett was born in an era when talking like that was considered politically correct, then pondering on the repercussions of not being politically correct when I now know that heaven and hell aren't based on religious morals but instead, your life as a fan of Michigan. Damn, my head hurts.

As we walked along, we would hear the occasional crowd of spirits explode in excitement. Crockett just walked along as if all was normal, so I just subdued my interest the best I could. That didn't last long though, as when we passed close to one group, I stopped and walked closer to them to take a look.

The sound of my boots on the dirt alerted the spirits to my presence before I could get within twenty-five feet of the group. They immediately became hushed and turned to me. This was the first time I realized that the spirits didn't actually walk on the ground. Being ghostly, they have no mass, and therefore move no dirt when they walk.

I stared blankly at the ghostly figures and they stared back at myself. I broke the silence after a good 30 seconds of awkward, "Hi, I'm formerlyanonymous."

"No you're not. We don't know your name. You're still anonymous," said one of the spirits as he stepped out in front of the crowd.

"No, that's my name. My name is formerlyanonymous."

"Well that's just silly. Clever, but silly. I'm Rudyard. I was once a poet. I am the leader of this group of souls."

With excitement in my voice, "You mean you're Rudyard Kipling? You once said For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack. Michigan football used to use that as a major motivational tool."

"Indeed young man. While I may never reach Michigan Stadium in the afterlife, I am lucky enough to be enshrined in its lore."

"Yeah, I really love how we've moved from your wolf pack to Barwis's wolves. I really liked that we are able to keep the wolf theme when it comes to attacking on defense," I replied.

Kipling looked stunned. "You mean my quote is no longer the driving force behind Michigan football? The last time Bo came down here to heckle Woody, he told me that my quote was a centerpiece of Michigan lore?"

"Yeah, with the coaching change, Rich Rodriguez is now the coach. He's not sophisticated to know the likes of you, sir. He quotes things like the Lion King. Now we've got this weight coach, Mike Barwis. He owns wolves as pets. It's AWESOME!"

"Damn you Mr. Mike Barwis! You've taken my connection to Michigan football!" exclaimed Kipling.

"Uh oh, you better duck kid,"announced Crockett as he motioned to get down.

All of a sudden, a fiery whip flew down from the dark sky above as if it came out of the clouds. The whip lashed down and wrapped up Kipling, lighting him on fire. Kipling was then wrapped up, circled nine times by the rope, and lifted through the sky in the dark clouds.

Crockett got back up, dusted off his pants despite there being no dust on him as he's a ghost. "Ya see kid, those who turn on the program belong to a different level of hell. Mr. Kipling here just turned on a member of the staff. The keeper of the gates to the city inside the depths of hell just reassigned Rudyard to a place much deeper."

Alright, all you guys who just lost your leader, go ahead and get yourself reorganized. Get back to your games, I'm taking this boy and headin' down the dusty trail."

I turned to start walking, when it dawned on me that I never figured out what the group was cheering about in the first place. So I went to ask Crockett.

"They play this game down here," he started. "They call it limbo. Two guys hold up a stick and you have to walk underneath it. If you knock the stick over, you lose. It's been all the rage since skee-ball finally got played out."

As I walk dumbfounded forward, I ponder just how crazy this hell really could be. I've made it through one circle of hell and I've already seen Rudyard Kipling flung to a deeper circle of hell and a bunch of ghosts playing limbo. I must continue.

MGoFiction: Inferno-Canto I

MGoFiction: Inferno-Canto I

Submitted by formerlyanonymous on July 1st, 2010 at 3:00 PM

Before baseball season was started, I began to write an mgofiction. I've made it about 10 posts before being distracted for the last 6 months. Now, it's a rush to get it done before the season starts. So in the loosely adapted ways of Dante, I present to you the first canto of Formerly's Football Inferno. I promise nothing when it comes to grammar, punctuation, logical plots, or anything that normally goes into story writing.

Canto I

I, formerlyanonymous, have been on a epic adventure over the last few seasons. I've been subjected to the worst back-to-back seasons of Michigan football in history, deep into the hell of Michigan football. Along my way through this agony, I made note of what exactly I saw. So here is my account.

It all began on a horror filled afternoon in September. I was at a game in Ann Arbor on a warm, picturesque day. I remember going into it hoping Michigan wouldn't be embarrassed by playing a close game against an inferior opponent, albeit an opponent featuring a type of offense Michigan had often flailed and failed wildly against. My worst fears were more than realized – rather than that 3 point high scoring game I expected, Michigan lost in devastating fashion. Crable blocked the outside guy instead of the inside, and the Wolverine's desperation field goal as time expired was blocked.

I found myself walking out of Michigan Stadium stunned. I left out the southwest gates and walked. I don't know how long I was walking, but after several hours, days, weeks, I don't even know. The time just passed, yet I found myself knowing how the season ended, how the new coaching search ended.  Days just past unhappily.

When I awoke from my trance, I found myself lost in the woods. It was no longer that picturesque Saturday in Ann Arbor. It was a gray, misty-rain day, somewhat cool. There was no sun in the sky to point my directions home.

As I started to panic that I might be in the hell hole known as northwest Ohio, I could hear something creeping in the woods. I tried to stay quiet, hoping whatever the animal was would pass, but it grew closer, louder.

All of a sudden, it was upon me. Out from the brush came a wolverine. I was scared because I had heard of the ferociousness of the species. This one however, seemed beaten, as if it had escaped one of those giant bear traps. It's leg was heavily scarred. The wolverine look fat and slow, maybe one too many large pizzas. His claws were still sharp, ready to strike, but the rest of its body looked unkempt and weak.

Being the less than intelligent person I am, I approached the poor thing. That set it off. It growled a high pitch sound you would expect from a smaller dog. Before it could pounce on me and send me to my doom, a flash of light blinded both myself and the wolverine. A spirit emerged from a burrow in the ground. The spirit caught the wolverine in mid air, and held it as if it were a common house cat.

davycrockett Needless to say I was startled. When the spirit turned to me, I couldn't help but recognize the face. It was John Wayne dress up as Davy Crockett from the original edition of The Alamo.

"Well howdy there," Mr. Wayne started, as if the fact that a ghostly spirit in a movie costume sparing my life from destruction by a wild wolverine hadn't put me into enough shock. "I'm Davy Crockett. What are you doing in this forsaken forest?"

I replied, "Wait, aren't you John Wayne, but just dressed up as Davy Crockett?"

"Don't get smart with me son, I'm the one that can throw this here critter right back on you," he retorted quickly.

"Noted… And thanks," I answered somewhat embarrassed. "Actually, I'm lost. Michigan football left me wandering and pondering my addiction to football. It's like mgoblog isn't even important to me after spending all of my free time there the last two years."

"Michigan, huh? I heard of 'em. Solid bunch of winners right there."

"Yeah, but today was bad. It's left me lost not only as a fan, but hell, now I'm god damn lost in the middle of nowhere talking to the spirit of a guy who wants to be Davy Crockett – no offense or anything. I just don't know what to do next."

"Well, partner, I think I can help you out a bit. Ya see, I'm a spirit that resides in the underworld. It's a pretty special underworld at that, it's the hell of Michigan football. You see, when men and women die, they don't go to none of that Christian heaven or hell. Heck, there ain't no such thing as God, Satan, or Jesus. Well, there's this Jesus character, but he's damned pretty deep in hell – real gueer. He loves him some Irish men. Me I've never liked the Irish. Ah, heck, you got me ramblin'. Anyway, you're pretty lost out here in these woods. I can't lead you out of here, but if you want to follow me, I can show you just how far down this rabbit hole goes. I promise you, on the other side, you'll find happiness not only by reaching home, but you'll also find yourself an answer about Michigan football."

"Well, Mr. Wayn – Mr. Crockett, I don't see much else of a choice."

And we were off on a journey through the Hell of Michigan Football.