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| Transferring talent |
Antitrust looked at the silver trophy in his hands and felt surprised.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his colourful surroundings. He had always hated the noisy Xtreme League with its fantastic, fancy fans. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel surprised.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Dixie Normous. Dixie was a young defender with blue eyes and tattooed arms.
Antitrust gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a tactless, malicious, gin drinker with solid eyes and fragile arms. His friends saw him as a grieving, green god. Once, he had even brought an injured teammate back from the brink of death.
But not even a tactless person who had once brought an injured teammate back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Dixie had in store today.
The hail pounded like running toads, making Antitrust sad.
As he stepped outside and Dixie came closer, he could see the wry smile on his face.
"Look manager," growled Dixie, with an intelligent glare that reminded manager of cute rats. "I hate you and I want transferred. You owe me 7597 econs."
Antitrust looked back, even more sad and still fingering the silver trophy. "Dixie, I won't sell you" he replied.
They looked at each other with relaxed feelings, like two tart, tight tortoises scoring at a very splendid football match, which had trance music playing in the background and two virtuous uncles tackling to the beat.
He regarded Dixie's blue eyes. "I don't need the funds ..." he lied.
Dixie glared. "Do you want me to shove that silver trophy where the sun don't shine?"
Antitrust promptly remembered his tactless and malicious values. "Actually, I do need the funds," he admitted. He reached into his pockets. "Here's what I owe you, and you'll be sold to the highest bidder."
Dixie Normous looked happy, his wallet now blushing like a breakable, boiled banana.
Then Antitrust came inside for a nice drink of gin.
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