Over a dozen faculty and staff at Pembridge International University (affectionately known as PIU) concluded a revolutionary study over the weekend that bestowed the title of World Klutz Champion upon one Peter Sungrove, of the tiny town of Musk, Arkansas, population 126.
“I get the feeling people moved away because no matter what would happen, I’d ruin anything I’d come near,” Sungrove lamented. Indeed, this mild-mannered accountant rose to national prominence within the ranks of those possessing the anti-Midas touch when his Ford Focus suffered a flat tire, then suffered a second flat tire with the spare still on it, followed by Sungrove, while attempting to pay for the repairs, spilling coffee on the floor, slipping forward and hitting his head on the cash register. When he was finally able to retrieve his wallet, Sungrove’s wad of credit cards exploded in his hands, scattering across the shop. One card was found days later in the clerk’s pants, giving new meaning to the phrase “Visa – it’s everywhere you want to be.”
PIU picked up on this spate of events quite quickly and recruited Sungrove to ‘compete’ versus forty other entrants in a controlled setting that quickly became quite uncontrolled. Even as conductors of the experiment, snickering behind the participants’ backs and forging amateurish-looking gold medals in the meantime, wondered whether Sungrove could possibly be topped, no one else even came close. “I’m just here because they offered free food,” garbled Tom Zinticon of Philadelphia, PA through a mouthful of sub sandwich, just before splattering a packet of mayonnaise into his own left eye.
Will Sungrove hold onto the World Klutz title when the occasion to study such folk arises again? Or will the belt break into small pieces at his very touch, continuing the curse into perpetuity and beyond? Only time will tell.
An inaugural contest to determine the nation’s most agile snot-launchers remains unresolved as of Monday night, after 7-year-old competitor Brad “Schnozz” Turkington was accused of eating at least two such projectiles before judges could fully evaluate the round’s results.
Consisting of six rounds alternately testing accuracy and distance, while also taking into account artistic merit (bonus points are granted for especially marbled and rounded specimens), the all-ages BFC, held over the weekend in Minneapolis, MN (also known as ‘the nostril of the Midwest’) was, in the words of 62-year-old rival John “No Blood” Johnson, “clipping along at a fine pace,” until Turkington allegedly ran out of ammo. “Upon finding he had no more boogers to flick,” ruled a referee, “the boy decided to simply take things into his own hands. And mouth.”
Johnson further commented, “The kiddo was merely jealous. Considering my twelve-point lead after four rounds, who can blame him?” Johnson’s streak of regional wins came to a head in round three with a perfect bullseye, flicked so hard but with such grace that the attempt earned the sport’s first-ever perfect ten. “Like, duh,” 17-year-old rookie Samantha Sniffer of California said, popping her bubble gum when asked for an interview, “Like, I don’t know how anyone can beat that… and the kid’s the one being accused of cheating? Bummer.”
Upon being grilled by his parents for his on-field shenanigans, Turkington himself only sneezed and asked for a drink of water. Officials are using a one-day break to review tape of the action and determine what to do from here. Can the also-rans catch up? Can they use this hard-earned time off to generate more and better boogers? Or will they dry up and crust over like when you walk into frigid weather from inside and inhale too hard? Only time will tell.