Ali vs Frasier
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“What a hellacious, outrageous, downright tenacious encounter!”
“This may shock and amaze ya/But I'm going to knock out that punkass Frasier!”
“I grew tired of listening to the presophmoric psychotically random burps and pleas of that arrogant illiterate gasbag! I had enough!”
Dr. Frasier Crane was in the middle of hosting yet another one of his boring and superior radio shows when he got a call from a man named Muhammad. Muhammad's psychological problem was simple. He had soundly beaten the crap out of everyone in his way to becoming the greatest heavyweight champion of all-time, but he was running out of worthy opponents. Frasier, due to his longtime avoidance of sports, didn't know who this Muhammad Ali guy was, why he kept calling him on an almost daily basis, or what he was trying to say in some very simplistic rhymes. He was sure he was being pranked, and was just about to hang the phone up on the raving lunatic yet again. This only enraged the angry caller, who then fired off an impromptu self-praising witty limerick, and the next thing Frasier knows he's being challenged to a fight.
edit Frasier, the kind of man who might turn on you
Ordinarily Frasier would, of course, turn down such an insane and barbaric suggestion from a stranger. But having felt huffy and aggrieved at being shown up by this caller's cheeky spontaneous wordplay, Frasier decided to don the gloves and engage in fistacuffs.
Nobody told Frasier what he had just done. Everyone at the station was horrified, and they phoned Frasier's father, Martin, in hope that he could talk both combatants down. Frasier finished his show by, as he had always done, calmly talking severally depressed attention-disorder cases off of ledges, and unsuccessfully trying to stop a ten-year old girl from crying by telling her that "Yes, all men are like that. Get used to it Babe." Soon, everyone was saved and his show ended on an up-note wishing everyone in Seattle a good day.
"Fraiser," his cute assistant said when he stepped out of the broadcasting booth, "Don King just called and wants to represent you! The fight is on!!"
"What fight?" enquired the arrogant intellectual radio psychiatrist, who, due to much drinking with fewer time in-between visits to the bottle, kept dipping into his dwindling reserve of memory loss.
edit The Buildup
After running thru a contingent of reporters and TV cameras that had gathered outside his studio, yelling "No comment" at questions that made no sense to him, it soon dawned on Frasier that he was stepping into the ring with a boxing legend with the suspicious name of Muhammad Ali. By the time he realized that this Ali character was a real fighter and not just a caller pulling off some kind of radio prank, it was far too late to back down, because the whole of Seattle was imploring him to fight! To a man they were saying this just for a laugh. They all knew that Ali would batter the professional psychiatrist's face into pulp, which they kind of wanted to see, and might even pay to witness.
But the roaring public never comprehended, nor did any reporter consider, nor did it cross the mind of Muhammad Ali himself, that Frasier's incredible ability to understand the human psyche would be a factor in the fight. Along with his brother Niles, and his father, Martin, Frasier put together a strategy that would repel all of Ali's fierce hooks, lefts, straights, whomp-em-sideways, over the tops, tickle-him-sillies, and jabs.
Meanwhile, over in Ali's camp, the trash talking was well underway. A little digging into Frasier's history had resulted in the revelation that Frasier used to frequent a bar in Boston nearly every night of the week. Ali took great pleasure in nicknaming his gay opponent, and making it stick. The 'The Boston Boozehound' was well on his way to a beating he wouldn't wake up from.
edit The Fight
9th of January 1999. This is a date imprinted on the minds of everyone in attendance at Caesar's Palace in beautiful Las Vegas and on all who watched it on closed circuit television. The betting was strong, and the atmosphere in the hall was tenser than last call on the Titanic. Ali was wheeled out looking like death warmed over but as determined as always to defend his crown. Frasier walked out looking like he had just sampled a particularly bad Beaujolais. The two boxers sat in the corners, Ali shaking from head to toe from his illness and trying his best to keep his left leg from folding under his knew which was whipsawing around like a cat quartering a mouse. Fraiser's dad told him to just punch him, for God's sake, draw some blood and then finish it. Brother Niles told him to "Just remember Dad's strategy, Frasier, and for God's sake don't splash me with the blood".
In his corner Ali prepared to knock the head off the famous shrink and piss down his neckhole.
edit Round 1
As the bell rung Frasier stood up and faced Ali. From the get-go Frasier ducked and bobbed in a drunken attempt to evade Ali's hands, which seemed to be shaking and glued to Ali's thighs as he staggered around the ring trying to keep his balance. Frasier knew it was Ali's famous rope-a-dope! He was not going to fall for that old canard, no sir! Above the noise of the baying crowd Frasier suddenly remembered to yell to Ali, "Remember your favorite childhood toy". Ali, by this time a scarcely animated pugilistic puppet, tried to deliver a sharp jab to Frasier's stomach but succeeding in almost moving his hands. Fraiser, drunk as a Mormon maiden on her wedding night and seeing two of everything there was one of, fell back against the ropes but somehow managed to stay on his feet.
Ali was motionless. As usual. But this time his eyes showed he had been caught up in a pleasant memory, an old teddy bear called Raggsy. An innocent smile attempted its pillar-like creep up and over his trembling mouth. Ali's arms relaxed a little, but still stayed by his sides. His urge to hurt Frasier had faded away as, in his memories, he was running up the lane and throwing a cowbone way to the side of Raggsy, who, tail wagging, ran happily after the treat. Fraisier, sensing his victory punch had landed, staggered up and strongly suggested to Ali that he fall down onto the canvas. Ali didn't hear him, enraptured in the brain-fart world of memories where Raggsy was not killed by his father in an attempt at practicing autoeroticism to see what it would do to a dog. So Frasier, at the crowd's urging, punched Ali in the face.
Ali fell off his stool and lay on the floor as the ref counted to 10, at which point Frasier, feeling his inner-man emerge for the first time in his life, kicked Ali in the ribs. He kicked him just once, so Ali would remember the day that he dare challenge Frasier Crane, and Frasier could remember the sublime feeling of making an old man fall off a stool with one punch to the face. "Who's the greatest now, Ali!" Frasier said, having read the man's Wikipedia page and finding out about the Parkinson's.
Niles and Martin lifted Frasier aloft on their shoulders. An aria from Verdi's Rigoletto played out over the loud speakers as the victorious Frasier caught a glimpse of a bun-haired pale-faced neurotic woman sitting in the crowd. Summoning all his strength, he shouted from the depth of his soul "LILITH!! LILITH!! YO LILITH, WE DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Ali lay on the canvas awhile, mildly convulsing somewhat, he smiled and waved away all help. Or so it looked.