Punishment and Reward @ Benny Blanco's Slice of the Bronx The time and place were set. The match was on. The Reverend Bobby Black versus The Tripster. The professional versus the backyard amateur who eats glass for breakfast. What could possibly result? An ass-kicking, that's what. It started off innocently enough -- a few words were exchanged, a few glances glanced, and then violence! The Reverend reared back into his corner and came flying at Trip like a hot dog shot from a water cannon. Trip, who was checking his reflection in a hand-held mirror, looked up just in time to see his world reverse, finds himself staring down at the mat. Buh-BAM. Smelling victory seconds in, The Reverend kneeled to deliver the death blow. But The Tripster, hardened by hours of Telemundo soccer replays and fortified by a lifetime of serious drinking, twisted from beneath and sprang to his feet. "Not so fast, Bobby Black!" He roared. "Prepare yourself for the double-diamond cutter! ." The fists came up, forming the infamous wedge of pain. With a shriek, Trip launched forward. The Reverend flew backward. Could it be? Could this be the upset of a lifetime? Children in France would be talking about it for weeks. Bankers in Zurich would cry in their lunchtime glasses of wine. The Tripster would be standing astride the world of wrestling, undefeated and unconquerable. Right. You don't become the most feared man in the squared circle for nothing. Bobby Black caught himself on the ring ropes and grinned. "You can't cope with the formless shape of Bob, prepare for an irrational beating! This is the Reverend Bobby Black! Tripster, your time has come and gone! I'll put the truth of Slack into you like a thousand divine hammers!" And with that, The Tripster found himself locked in a death-noogie from which there would be no escape. He wrestled, he struggled, he used all of his backwoods wiles, but in the clutches of the world's only Tattooed Food Critic he found pain, nothing more. As the room darkened, as his vision blurred, Trip could only gasp, "I wrestled you for it. . . ." It seemed like hours, but it was maybe a minute. "I think I need some refreshment," said The Reverend. "Anyone here ever been to Benny Blanco's Pizza?" And with that, the Reverend and his cadre of eager followers descended on Denver's newest Slice of the Bronx, and yea, the pepperoni and sausage were good! The thin crusty tastiness sated the hunger of even The Reverend himself, which hasn't happened since 1986! On his way out the door, trailed by his sycophants, on his way to Florida in search of a worthy opponent, Bobby left us with these words: "Hear ye, all who enter this den of sauce and cheese, that it is fit for a mighty big hunger, and thou shalt not patronize the homes of inferior pie-makers! Listen you this, Denver: I, Bobby Black, am leaving the building! When I return, I will be accompanied by fire and serpents!" And with that, he was gone. OK, tough guy or girl think YOU have what it takes to be a Go-Go Food Critic? It's hard to replace perfection, but Bobby has to move on. Think you can fill his size 14 engineer boots? What's your hook? Are you exceptionally adept at ordering in (the shut-in food critic)? Are you a real weasel when it comes time to pay the bill (the dine-and-dash food critic)? Are your toes abnormal (the polydactic food critic)? Then by all means, SEND US SOME SAMPLES of your BEST food critiques and pitch your glowing (and preferably unusual) personality. Send samples via e-mail to editor@gogomagazine.com Computer illiterate (the Luddite food critic)? Then drop something scrawled on a napkin to us at: Go-Go Magazine, Attn: Food Critic Contest, 1201 E. Colfax, Ste. 201, Denver, CO, 80218. All submissions belong to us, deal with it. (Just kidding.) Send an SASE if you want your stuff back. And please use your real name. We aren't the IRS. All entries will recieve close scrutiny, and some of you will win VALUABLE PRIZES from KB Gear (the JamCam folks). So put up your dukes, grab a wrestling mask and WRITE US! ! ! photos by Sean Hartgrove All Rights Reserved © 2001 Go-Go Media, LLC