"Volley the ball. The Ball is volleyed. Volleyball."
The man shakes his head. He looks at the glaring screen of his laptop to see the insult his friend, his bromate, dared to spew at him. He rereads the tweet with a fiery rage boiling in his gut.
Volley the ball. It's not that simple, it's never been that simple. A ball is not just volleyed, a ball gets spiked with a desperate need. The need that has been within us from birth, the need for survival that runs in even the most primal beasts. That need that tells us to fight, to battle, to wage a bloody, unending war upon the blasphemer.
The Ball is volleyed. A ball is a tool, a mechanism for battle, an object that the warriors abuse time and time again so that they may stand and fight. A
The man shakes his head. He looks at the glaring screen of his laptop to see the insult his friend, his bromate, dared to spew at him. He rereads the tweet with a fiery rage boiling in his gut.
Volley the ball. It's not that simple, it's never been that simple. A ball is not just volleyed, a ball gets spiked with a desperate need. The need that has been within us from birth, the need for survival that runs in even the most primal beasts. That need that tells us to fight, to battle, to wage a bloody, unending war upon the blasphemer.
The Ball is volleyed. A ball is a tool, a mechanism for battle, an object that the warriors abuse time and time again so that they may stand and fight. A