Le Saga Du Eto'o
Twilight, so peaceful, encapsulating all the mountains of the distance. Away across the plains, you can smell the stench of corruption emanating from a city known as Madrid, riddled with flea-ridden whores. He walks slowly, through the dusk our hero doth, his shirt red and blue, awash with tears, of joy and sorrow and anticipation. Joy of a final victory, sorrow of the call of bitters and anticipation of meeting he who is known simply, even to players who no longer play under him. As the Gaffer.
Samuel walks slowly, kicking stones aside, his journey long and tiring, he has to travel far - to the green paradise known as carrington. Danger though is never far, 'what is this?' says the striker, the warrior lord! 'I can smell burning flesh.' He looks around, but he is ready for battle.
"Theeeeey....dooooooo......noooootttt......plaaaay.....yooooooooooooooooOU!" comes the cry from the nearby bell-tower. "What is this demon?!" Say's Eto'o as he pulls on his Total 90's ready to kick stones at his attacker. "I.....waaaaaarrsghhh dropppethed.....gaaargh!".
"Is that you Ribery?! You gargoyle?".....Silence..."Show yourself! Evil one!"....From high the figure dropped to the ground, rolling, then upon dusting his deformed and cloaked figure free of mud, he stood...or crouched it was hard to tell. The figure was short and the face was hidden, a mane of hair and a smell of rotten eggs and burning flesh was overwhelming. He walked with a limp and upon his back was a hump.
"It is you? Quasi-modo?!" Eto'o was anxious, even afraid...then the figure shown himself. "Tevez?!" Cried the startled hero.
"Yeeessrrghh...It is me.....Do not join those devils of Red! Evil, evil, bastarrrghhhss!" Spat the hideous creation.
Eto'o stepped back, in the distance he could see two figures atop Horses galloping to what he hoped was his aid. Tevez enchroached, when another deformed citizen dropped from the bell tower. "Bellamy?! Too!" Cried Eto'o, he was scared now.
Then they arrived, gleaming Silver, brandishing trophies of the premiership and personal awards. One, a short Ginger legend, atop a mighty white stallion, the other an old man, wise and strong of heart, who smelt of menthal. "Leave this place, gargoyles of evil - our weary friend here has a long journey - go! Back to the shadows!" And from under his hood, Scholes of Manchester, knight of bravery revealed his Ginger Locks and LO! The light doth shown upon the grotesqueness of Tevez and Bellamy, the Merrick Brothers and sent them back to the shadows.
Eto'o then sat astride his heroic saviours, and they journey'd long to Carrington, then to the theatre of dreams.
The rest, the bard said, is history.