The Drug Test

The Sasquatches stood in a line, shoulder-to-shoulder, shuffling slightly. They stared timidly at the grass. Before them, an authoritative figure paced backward and forward, throwing them a dirty look once in a while, even pausing to spit on the ground angrily once or twice. He was wearing a referee's uniform.

The Sasquatches were naked.

"Is this really necess-" began Doyle, the team captain of the Mansfield Sasquatches, but he was drowned out by the referee.

"SILENCE!"

The word echoed several times and it rang in their ears for a full minute and a half.

"I think you all know why you are here," whispered the referee eventually. "There has been an outbreak of cheating in this competition, and we are determined to put a stop to it. Touch football is intended to be a clean sport."

He frowned for a moment, evaluating the nude team members before him, who were most visibly unclean.

"Drugs, gentlemen. Performance enhancing drugs. Stimulants. Amphetamines. Anabolic st-..." he paused, observing the members' physiques. "No, probably not that one. But there's got to be something..."

He handed Doyle a large bucket, twenty or thirty litres in size, and nodded.

"Uh...?" said Doyle.

The man frowned. "Your sample, please."

Doyle looked around awkwardly. They were in the middle of Field 1, with a crowd of confused onlookers scratching their heads nearby. Eventually he complied.

"Now pass it along to the next."

Doyle passed the bucket to David, who awkwardly received the bucket with one hand while using the other to cover his privates.

"Your sample, please," repeated the referee.

"What... you mean... right here?" stuttered David. "In the same bucket?"

"Yes, yes, we don't have all night. Just swirl it all together, we can't afford to drug test everyone individually."

"I'm not sure if that-"

"Just do it!"

David complied slowly, removing his trembling hand from his groin, and attempted to deliver his sample.

"I can't! I'm too nervous!" he wept.

"NOW!" roared the man, charging angrily. David urinated in fright.

The bucket was handed from member to member, who delivered samples in a surprising variety of colours.

"I think you all know there will be serious repercussions for your actions," announced the referee, picking up the bucket with one gloved hand and a moderately disgusted look on his face.

"But ref-" interjected Sam, who was struck down immediately by the man's closed fist.

"I don't want to hear your excuses!" he barked, spitting angrily in four directions at once.

"But we never took any-" began Dani, who fell victim to the referee's uppercut before she could finish.

"Lies!" he shouted. "One look at the scoreboard and we all know what happened!"

He pointed to his scorecard. 7-7. A draw.

"The Sasquatches didn't lose their last game!" he crowed happily, as if claiming victory. "A hilarious proposition, and yet here we are!"

"We can explain!" cried Sarah, but she was mowed down by a hailstorm of bullets.

"Twelve seasons!" the ref yelled. "That's how long I've seen your team fail. Week after week. Yes, you won a few games when the opposition was literally disabled, and once you even had an athletic fill-in who helped you win a game. But this time it was different. You tied fair and square."

The Sasquatches looked around at each other in surprise. Could it be... had they possibly... improved?

"No," said the referee, "I would have none of it. NONE OF IT. There is a reason for this madness, and I shall see the universe restored to its natural order."

 * * * 

One Week Later

"... dangerously elevated levels of sodium and creatinine, surprisingly high levels of glucose indicating disastrously unchecked diabetes, at least sixty different metabolites of cannabis... possible LSD usage, although it's hard to tell because some idiot mixed all the samples together..."

The doctor stood in the touch football clubhouse, reading the results of his analysis to the referee and the Sasquatches, who were seated around him. He continued:

"Cause of unusual odour remains undetermined, although the novel colour was probably due to excessive beetroot consumption."

Matthew nodded simply.

"However, there was no indication of performance enhancing drug use. In fact, the low levels of testosterone across the board is concerning. I would actually consider prescribing--"

"Alright, that's enough!" snapped the referee. "We've all heard enough. I caught the buzzwords: 'testosterone'... 'metabolites'... 'glucose'... Clearly you boys have been doing some pretty hard stuff!"

The Sasquatches hung their heads in shame. Bruce attempted to hide his bong behind his back, but the referee caught him in the act.

"Aha! Got you! What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Kristen raised her hand timidly.

"Yes?" he asked.

"We're sorry! Please don't punish--"

An arrow pierced her shoulder and she reverted to silence.

"You will not be allowed to play in the finals," the referee announced. "For this season, you will be stripped of all your points and relegated to the bottom of the ladder. I hope this teaches you all a lesson about cheating in sports."

No one spoke. They dared not remind him that they were already at the bottom of the ladder, and would never have made the finals.

The referee left the room, and the Sasquatches tended to Kristen's wounded shoulder.

"Does anyone know any girls who can play for us next week?" asked Doyle.

Tenille opened her mouth to speak. An anvil landed on her head.