The Battle To End All Battles

Forget Iraq. Forget TransWorld vs. ing and er (No contest there), this is some serious shit. This battle pits brother versus brother, friend versus friend, co-worker versus co-worker, and boss versus employee. While minimal blood is shed—the fighting is fierce. It’s called office Ping Pong.

It goes like this: To Joel’s (editor in chief) disdain, we here at TransWorld Surf have a ping pong addiction. He hates it, claiming that every time he needs us we’re playing with the little white ball. Fair enough, but when your little brother is calling you a pussy after you whip his ass for the tenth time in a row, it gets serious. Photo Editor Pete Taras bought himself a paddle, as did Chris (I still kick his ass with a shitty old paddle), yet they are still amateurs compared to the IT dude Tony, Regan at ‘Skate, and pong guru Sean O’Brien.

Chris is the funniest, because after every time I light him up twenty-one to four, he can’t face reality. “It’s weird that you beat me because I’m better. You’re just a backboard! he says in his whiny, beaten down voice while on the verge of tears. Yeah, you’re better, but I always win. Go figure. As for Pete, he’s a bit wild with a lack of control, but a decent player. Who knows how Joel plays because he hasn’t stepped up to the table since I’ve been here. I’m sure he hates pong because he yells at us if he catches us playing, so we’ve resorted to a code language, a quick series of grunts, to get a game on. After the game, we sneak back to our respectable cubicles and gloat silently in victory.

Welcome to my new world. Now go away.