Arsenal Versus Manchester United: What If...Post-Apocalyptic Football (Humour)

Yesterday we stood there on the benches in expectation of this round’s clash of titans—Arsenal against Manchester United. The weather was perfect—not too hot, not too cold. It hasn’t been like this for a couple of months—since the last round. Nuclear radiation has its peculiar ways with nature, what can I say.

As the tiny grey clouds floated on the orange sky, the players marched on to the ground under the deafening noise of screaming boys with manly voices. Or maybe girls, you can’t be sure nowadays.

It was a big game. The clash of titans.

But what made it even more intriguing was the clash of the clones—the teams and the two best ever managers of the two ex-giants in football (now two other teams dominate, Cannibals FC from everywhere and Smirnoff from Russia. Arsene Wenger—only his brain could be saved and it now rests in a jar full of liquid near the bench—and Alex Ferguson’s nose and glasses which were rested next to his chewing gum.

The referee was the no other than Mike Riley, who had been one of the few fortunate people in the world to have survived the nuclear holocaust. “Yaaeeeeoyy” yelled a mother holding an infant with tentacles squeezing seven scarves painted in Arsenal colours (dark brown and light brown—sometimes the light was practically non-existent, so it made little sense to have bright colours).

First whistle blown, the clone of Cesc Fabregas passed the ball with one of his legs to Robin van Persie who was now called the glass man because of the effects of radiation that made him look like he’s been made from glass. Immediately, though, the Manchester United forwards crawled in full speed towards the ball and somehow managed to steal possession.

Anderson’s braids managed to entangle the ball just a fraction of a second before Andrei Arshavin’s full one-inch of height reached the ball. With a delicate twist of the head, Anderson flung the ball flying through the air towards a mammoth of Rooney.

The Manchester United’s owners, who were a squirrel and the only remaining shaving razor in America, had to build a separate ground to accommodate the needs of a radiation-effected five-ton Wayne Rooney.

Then it happened. Rooney jumped off the ground and upon landing the vicinity was shaken so much that Ferguson’s chewing gum blasted skywards and all the players found themselves on the ground—but Arshavin seemed to smile.

Thomas Vermaelen immediately raised himself off the ground in a resolute manner and used his laser gaze in an attempt to decapitate the English forward, but Rooney was too much. The five-ton man, it looked more like an elephant with a nose instead of a trunk, hit the ball with all his might and sent it flying towards Jens Lehmann who unfortunately was in the crazy jacket.

The crowd roared like chickens. Ferguson’s glasses cracked; he knew even before the ball reached the goal. The ball hit the bar with full force, bending the metal, and then it bounced off the ground behind the goal line. 1-0 to the Red Devils with only a minute gone of the full ten minutes of the match (the weather did not allow anything living to stay outside for more than 15 minutes, and that was why on many occasions people died on their way back home).

But it was far from over.

A resolute Arsenal dug deep.

First, it was electricity, which people used to know as Theo Walcott, with a mind-boggling run through the centre. 1-1. Then it was 44-meter tall Nicklas Bendtner who managed to materialize an outstanding Bacary Sagna cross. 2-1.

A great comeback just as the sun started burning the hair of those who had it.

And just when you thought it was over, a lanky Bulgarian condom came out of nowhere to make it 2-2. The goal had double importance as it made Dimitar Berbatov the best top-goal scorer in the League of mutants with 1234 goals—1220 more than second-placed V for Vendetta guy.

Arsenal had one more chance to win it, but instrumental 100-year-old Van Der Saar parried the long shot of now-all-blond Alex Song. That was it, 2-2. Mike Riley was a happy man—you are always happy when you survive another round of English football.

As the sun began to sink behind the horizon, both managers were carried into the dressing rooms looking happy, or the same. Points shared ensured Arsenal stayed first and Manchester—second in the general table, with Abramovich FC chasing behind with a point.

Disclaimer: This article was not meant to offend anyone. It was written with the sole purpose of making you laugh.