One Too Many Blows to the Head (Part III of the TW Trilogy)
By Purrsia Kat


Word got around quickly. Everyone was gathered in the 
clearing near the Berbil village waiting for the once in a lifetime 
event to begin.
Lion-O stood bow-legged and bobbing up and down, his moves 
reminiscent of the famous "potty dance". 
"Hold still," Purrsia chastised him. "It's kinda hard to wrap 
your hand in this tape with all that bouncing."
"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Lion-O fretted for 
the hundred millionth time. "I mean, did you *have* to say I had to 
do this without the Sword?"
Purrsia sighed. "Well, I don't think TW would have spared us 
back there in S'kat's office if I hadn't thrown that disclaimer in. 
Really, who wants to show up to watch the Sword do all the work for 
you?"
Snarf raised up on his tail and whispered to Lion-O. "Don't 
worry, sneeeyarf. If things get *too* bad, just call the Sword to 
you."
Lion-O grinned. "Why didn't I think of that? Thanks Snarf!"
Purrsia, having finished wrapping the lion's palm, grabbed 
the Sword and Claw Shield from Lion-O's side. Lion-O was unfazed by 
the action but his expression turned to utter dismay as Purrsia 
proceeded to wrap the Eye of Thundera in the white tape as well.
"Just so you don't get any ideas."
Snarf emitted a howl that would make a deaf man's ears 
bleed. "What are you doing? Who's side are you on??"
ThunderWolf ambled up behind Purrsia. "She's following the 
terms of the agreement, fur ball. If Lion-O can kick my ass without 
that uber-tool, then I'll call off my quest to obliterate him." 
"Oh, Lion-O!" Snarf wailed, wrapping himself around Lion-O's 
muscular leg. "You're dead! You're so deeeeaaaad, sneeeeeyaaaarfffff!"
Purrsia slipped the boxing gloves onto Lion-O's hands, trying 
her best to ignore the nearby Silvercat and her cheery declarations 
of Lion-O's impending doom. "Yer all set. Now remember our strategy."
"Strategy? What frickin' strategy?" Lion-O demanded.
"Whatever happens, don't let him wail on your face," Purrsia 
reminded him.


***************************

Lion-O climbed through the ropes and into the ring, looking out at 
the sea of faces surrounding him. They were all there. His friends 
from Third Earth -- the Berbils, the Wolos and Balkans, the Warrior 
Maidens, Mr. and Mrs. Unicorn Keeper. Even his enemies lurked about. 
The Mutants, the crowd from the TCATGR; he even thought he detected 
the glow of two red orbs in the forest that could only belong to Mumm-
Ra.
He sighed, looking past Officer Mandora in the center of the 
ring to his opponent and cousin, ThunderWolf. This was it. This was 
his chance to prove to everyone on Third Earth that he was more than 
a one-dimensional hero with a forged, magical crutch. He could do it, 
couldn't he? After all, he was on the side of good. And Jaga always 
said good *always* defeated evil. And was not ThunderWolf evil? Yes! 
Yes! He could do this! Anyway, Purrsia was writing this fic and she 
would never let anything happen to her favorite canon character. Lion-
O relaxed, a renewed confidence showing itself in the form of an 
assured smile on his face.
Mandora gripped the mic and raised one arm high above her 
head. In her authoritive monotone, she announced, "Ladies and 
Gentlemen. ThunderWolf vs. Lion-O is about to begin. Normally, I 
would not allow such a thing to go on, as it violates the assault and 
battery section 4.3 of the intergalactic penal code..."
WilyKat, seated beside the ring, snickered. "She 
said `penal'."
His sister sighed and rolled her eyes. "So what? Jeez, 
WilyKat." Teenaged boys in the throes of puberty....oy!
"...But since Lord Lion-O has to complete this contest *without* the 
Sword of Omens, I couldn't say no," Mandora continued.
A cheer rose up from the massive crowd. "Okay, boys, you know 
the rules. Keep it clean," Mandora instructed, motioning for them to 
stand before each other at the ring's center.


******************************

Servali's eyes widened as he spotted Dr. Zhie and RD sitting 
near one of the concession huts the Berbils were running. "By the 
gods, what happened to you two?"
"ThunderWolf didn't appreciate the therapy," Zhie responded 
dryly. She looked like hell and was in obvious pain, as did RD. "But 
if you think we look bad, you should see poor Smithers."
"And Kam," RD added, shaking his head sadly. 
"What did he do to them?" Servali wondered, his gossipy 
nature piquing his curiosity. 
Chanur walked up to the seated pair and handed them their 
drinks. "I hear," Chanur explained, "that Kam was baked into a banana-
nut cake."
Servali pondered that for a moment, then shrugged. "Seems 
fitting, really. And Smithers?"
"He made the mistake of coming between an enraged TW and 
Zhie," RD began.
"And, well it wasn't pretty," Zhie continued. "He took the 
brunt of TW's anger."
"Ouch," Servali said sympathetically. 
RD nodded. "More accurately, Mr. Burns suffered the most -- 
took a direct hit with the knee. Which makes me hold little hope that 
TW will stick to the low blow rules in this match."
"Did Burns really beg to be resuscitated?" Chanur asked. 
"Oh yeah," RD said with a grimace. "And *nobody* wanted to go 
there!"
Servali knew full well who, or rather what, Burns was in 
relation to Smithers, and matched RD's grimace with one of his 
own. "Yikes."
"I wrote him a script for Viagra," Zhie said. "Hopefully, 
Burns snaps back."
"I don't think I'd be using the word `snap' around Smithers 
*or* Burns, Zhie," RD advised with a shudder.


******************************

Purrsia donned her cheerleading uniform and stood loyally 
ringside. Chanur took special pains to avoid the stressed lioness, 
eyeing the bouncing pompoms she clutched with much wariness. "C'mon. 
All ya gotta do is last 5 rounds," Purrsia muttered. 
"He won't last 5 seconds," Snarf lamented in his annoyingly 
nasal way.
Purrsia glared down at the creature. "Some nanny you are. 
Where's your faith in Lion-O? You're faith in the Code?"
"Don't tell me you bought into all that crap. Smarmy ideals 
aren't going to save Lion-O's ass this time, rrrwwwl."
Purrsia's retort was cut off by the chime of the bell that 
harkened the first round.
With a fiendish grin, ThunderWolf's first punch connected 
with Lion-O's jaw, sending the hapless ThunderCat flying into the 
ropes.
"Remember the face!" Purrsia yelled. "Not the face! And try 
actually moving out of the way for Jaga's sake!!"
Lion-O staggered off the ropes and gave Purrsia a sloppy 
salute to acknowledge he heard her.
"I was wrong," Snarf quipped. "Not even 5 seconds."
Shark and Silvercat came dancing by at that moment, united in 
their mutual glee at seeing ThunderWolf smack around the ThunderCat 
Lord like a rag doll. 
Purrsia whirled around and glared at them. "Take the happy 
dance elsewhere."
Purrsia, her back still to the ring, winced as she heard quite a loud 
thump followed by a gasp from the crowd. She had a feeling she knew 
what that was.
"Great holy Jaga!" WilyKat exclaimed while jumping up and 
down and pointing. "TW just knocked Lion-O clear out of the ring!"
Looking defeated, Purrsia warily asked, "By the face?"
"Nah, it was a pretty low hit this time," Kit informed.
"Maybe even in his viagra place," Kat added.
Purrsia sighed in relief. "Good. He didn't damage anything 
then." She made her way to the other side of the ring, where a crowd 
had gathered. Servali was hovering over Lion-O, asking the lion how 
many fingers he was holding up. Mandora stood next to the serval, 
counting down.
Purrsia knelt beside Lion-O, trying not to drool *too* much 
at the sight of his bare, sweaty chest. She blinked, her blind lust 
temporarily paralyzing her intentions. She shook her head furiously, 
snapping herself back in the moment. At least his face didn't look 
too bad. Yet. "Okay, Lion-O. You've proved your manliness. That's it. 
You're done."
"No," Lion-O wheezed, struggling to his 
feet. "Must...prove...I can do it....without the Sword."
Mandora, satisfied that Lion-O wasn't quite finished yet, 
called for the fight to resume. 
Silvercat, whom Purrsia had given the Sword of Omens for safe 
keeping, waved the blade with the blinded Eye about mockingly. Still 
dancing about with Shark, she sang, "A Lord minus one Sword held by 
S'kat, makes Lion-O one dead cat."
Purrsia was about to storm over there and christen S'kat a 
cheerleading in a way Chanur was all too familiar with, when 
Servali's words stopped her. "Hey Purrsia...is that actually Mr. Kat 
I see coming this way?"
"W--what?" Purrsia sputtered, desperately wiping the 
incriminating drool from her chin with her sleeve. "Where?"
"There," Servali said, pointing to a tall, thin bald man 
heading their way. "Odd he'd show up in a TCATGR fic. Didn't you say 
the Lair and stuff gives him the willies?"
"Must be the free beer drew him out," Purrsia stated. "If he 
finds out about my trysts with Lion-O, he'll either divorce me or 
have me committed. Or both."
Servali's lip curled into a devious sneer. "It'd be a shame 
if I was suddenly stricken with a bout of LFS and that information 
somehow slipped."
"You wouldn't!" Purrsia gasped. "That's hardly a fair way to 
get me back for that incident in S'kat's bar!" Purrsia looked about 
frantically for something...*anything*...to keep Servali quiet. At 
last, she spotted just what she needed, sitting on a rack beside the 
concession hut. Grabbing the box of chocolate bars, she 
taunted, "Oooh, Servaliiiii.....chocolate!" Despite much Berbil 
protesting, Purrsia whipped the box of chocolate across the crowded 
ringside area. The box exploded against an unsuspecting Chanur's 
head, sending chocolate bars spraying in four directions. Before the 
poor hani had a chance to realize what hit him, he was mowed over by 
a chocolate-craving serval.
Purrsia quickly adjusted her cheerleader skirt and an errant 
lock of hair as Mr. Kat approached. "Hello, dear," she said with a 
toothy grin.
Mr. Kat looked about him uncertainly. "So this is where you 
hang out all the time? Uh....um...."
"Weird, huh?" Purrsia offered.
"That's one word for it." Mr. Kat glanced up at the fight in 
the ring and shook his head. "You guys are really hard up for 
entertainment. That's hardly a good match. That guy in the blue 
spedos really sucks. What's with his hair anyway?"
Justice, the Kat's son, broke from his father's side and 
leapt into Purrsia's arms. "Mama...how come Lion-O's letting that guy 
punch him in the face?"
Purrsia couldn't bear to look, and simply shook her 
head. "Jaga only knows, son." She was saddened to know that Lion-O 
was letting his only true asset be pummeled to a pulp. "Anyway, the 
free beer is this way," she continued dejectedly. "And I'm *really* 
in need of a mug."


**********************

Lion-O wanted to follow Mandora's advice and stay down. By 
all the Seas of Thundera he didn't want to climb back into the ring. 
But he had to. He couldn't give up. Good always overcame evil. Jaga 
said so!
As Lion-O stumbled upright, he looked up into Shark's face. 
Shark was casually picking the remnants of Chibi Lion-O out of his 
teeth with the Sword of Omens. "You seem a little lost without your 
crutch," he casually commented. "Sure ya don't want to give up?"
"Neffer!" Lion-O said out the side of his swollen mouth. His 
face looked like he'd been wearing an active bee hive for a hat. 
"Lion-O, this is ridiculous," Mandora pleaded. "Stay down. 
Stay down if you want to *live*."
"Ouf uv my way," he slurred, making as if to push Mandora out 
of his way yet missing her by several feet. 
ThunderWolf meanwhile, was jumping about the ring and 
relishing the crowd's cheers. "By all means, Mandora. Let the fool 
come back for more."
Snarf desperately tugged at Lion-O as the lion struggled to 
fumble his way through the ropes. "Lion-O, this is suicide, 
sneeeyaaaaaaaarf! You haven't even got one single punch in."
"Snarf, I can do thiff," Lion-O insisted. "If I can juff get 
in one good hiff."
"You couldn't hit the broad side of a monkian's ass right 
now," Snarf wailed, ever the optimistic one. "And...and...the first 
round isn't even over yet! You'll never make it!!"
"Buff off, Snarf!" Lion-O declared as he crawled onto the 
mat. He swayed before ThunderWolf, a mangled look of determination on 
his face. Lion-O swung wildly, which ThunderWolf was easily able to 
avoid. 
Laughing, ThunderWolf boomed, "Nighty night, cousin. It's 
time I put your lights out." With that, he delivered a powerful blow 
right between Lion-O's eye's. Blood sprayed, hitting the mat seconds 
before Lion-O himself dropped like an anvil.
Lion-O lie there motionless, not hearing Mandora count him 
out. Not hearing when she raised ThunderWolf's arm and declared him 
the winner. Not hearing the crowd's roar, Silvercat's gloating, or 
Snarf's nasal wail above it all.
Instead, he found himself in the bluish void of the Astral 
Plane. "W-where am I?" he wondered aloud. "I have to go back and 
fight. I have to prove myself -- that I can do *something* without 
the Sword of Omens!"
Jaga emerged from the fog, shaking his head sadly. "You are 
in the Astral World son."
"The Astral World?" Lion-O echoed. "That means....that means 
I'm dead! No! Jaga, how can that be? Good always conquers evil. You 
said so yourself! I shouldn't have needed the Sword. I should have 
been able to beat him!"
"It is true," Jaga stated levelly, "that good always conquers 
evil. But I never said anything about stupidity conquering evil. The 
Sword is a power of pure good. Without it, you`re just an idiot out 
wandering around."
"Oh. Crap."

************************

I don't want to get back into the ring 
But I feel like these gloves are glued to knuckles 
And every time I try to stand up for myself
I start to feel my knees start to buckle
One too many blows to the head 
Left me for dead, but still I fight on 
One too many blows to the head 
Left me for dead, but still I fight on 

And as I step into the ring… 
I see my opponent, he is 10 feet tall and 500 pounds, yeah, this is 
getting kind of frightening 
And as we knock gloves there's a crash of lightning
And that's when he turns to me and says, and I quote: "Boy…you could 
use a little less whitening, whitening, yeahhhhh" 

One too many blows to the head 
Left me for dead, but still I fight on 
One too many blows to the head 
Left me for dead, but still I fight on 

-- "One too Many Blows to the Head" by the Dismemberment Plan