Who the hell is Steve? And who needs him when you have Chuck?

Hi Kings! Great to meet you last night. Great thing you've got going on down there in south Minneapolis: Awesome staff, killer food, cool atmosphere, and one of those bathrooms where you share the sink with that cute girl who, like you, just peed. (It's a great icebreaker. Try it!)

You guys are smarter than I expected, and that's saying something, because I expected you guys to be awfully smart. But your scores were out of this world. Who knew people in Kingsfield know so much about yoga? And who knew there's no such yoga pose as the platypus? (Yoga instructors, I implore you to rectify this. I don't know what sort of acrobatic contortion would best represent a venomous egg-laying mammal with the face of a duck and the tail of a beaver, but I want desperately to see it.)

Cute!

Enough of my blubbering, let's look at some winners:

These handsome gents were your winners, the blasphemously monikered Kings of Kings (now banned in several countries along with Life of Brian). The guy on the right didn't wash his hands.

Oh hello there! It's the City Council, a.k.a. King's Court, your friendly neighborhood disqualified staff team. Had they not graciously declined their prize, they would have gotten second place. Not bad! But Bartender John, you might want to get that check out.

If you could see their faces, you'd see unfettered bliss at having gotten fourth place. It's PrivateDinos.com!

Say hello to Kebert Xela, your actual second-place team. (I know I'm not going in order. Big deal.)

Finally, say "whaaaadupppp!!" to MN Cobras 143. I think it's some kind of trade union.

That's all I got. Thanks again for the hospitality King's! I hope to see you again soon. In the meantime, you're stuck with Steve.

xo,

chuck