This story is a work of fiction, all characters
and plot lines are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead
is purely coincidental. The actions depicted are indeed fictional and hence aren't condoned by the author or the site's owners. The Grand Contest Chapter 1: My Friends and I We had a big back yard, and there was a large garden shed in it. Dad seldom went there. He confined his activities to the garage – mainly servicing the family car. We cleaned a large space, floored the concrete with old carpet, and created our ‘dungeon’. It wasn’t bad as playrooms went. There was an old chest, where we stored our ‘blues’ and ropes. The overhead beams were strong enough to hang from, or be suspended – upside down, whatever. Mum was told, whenever we played in the shed, so she knew to keep out of it. We’d painted the inside of the windows so nobody could look in, and the door could be locked from the inside. It was perfect. Mum’s only comment was, “Don’t do anything I would not approve of in there,” which meant no drugs, smoking or drinking. I told her that, and she looked at me firmly. “You know what I mean, young man.” So things were pretty cool, really. Steven and I got Michael to stand on two chairs while we tied his upwardly outstretched arms to an overhead beam, then tied his ankles to two wall supports. He was hanging cruciform for us, unable to escape. It was a great tie. Michael said it hardly hurt at all. We were a great team. I could just imagine us at the National Tugs Games taking out a whole swag of awards. If we were going to win, we needed to practise hard. We weren’t sure what the judges would be looking for. Escapology was easy – they were looking for quick escapes. Tabloid was a sort of presentation event. A group of four had to produce a sort of diorama in one hour, on a dais measuring 4 metres by two metres. Endurance was staying in a tie longer than anyone else. Cross-country was getting from point A to point B while tied up – usually hogtied. The last prize was more difficult – a group or solo ‘presentation’. Someone, or a group, had to be presented bound, in such a way that it evoked strong artistic feelings. “A sort of ‘tied up beauty contest’ I guess,” Michael joked. Of course, we had other things to do. The holidays were almost over, and we had to return to school. “We might be able to get some of the other kids interested,” Steven said. We could even ask for a room in the Physical Education complex.” “They’d never allow that,” I said. “They are so straight-laced.” “We could call it ‘Martial Arts’, Michael said. “Dad – Francis – used to call it ‘Torinawa’. That’s a Japanese martial art, related to Judo.” “Sounds good,” Steven said. “Torinawa it is, then,” I agreed.
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