Manuel Miguel Hernandez Fernandez

    Everyone in attendance of the space soccer game was shouting into their microphones, cheering for Manuel Miguel Hernandez Fernandez, the century's best space soccer player since Spele was in his prime. The game was tied with a minute left in the match. The Space Sombreros had the ball, but the Galactic Fuzz were playing excellent defense. After much pressure though, and with only three seconds remaining, Manuel Miguel Hernandez Fernandez scored, claiming victory for the Space Sombreros.

    When the commotion had died down, and the team had finished the initial surge of celebration, Manuel Miguel Hernandez Fernandez took the microphone and stated to the crowd that he'd be retiring from soccer to become a poet. This was met with joy and sorrow, both in equal amounts of hysteria. Fans immediately began reading his poetry; it was viral on social media.

    The problem was that his poetry was terrible. Often, it invoked a nauseous response, and anger grew over Manuel Miguel Hernandez Fernandez's decision. Why would he think this was a good idea?

For example, one poem he wrote before his retirement went as follows:

    In my locker room bag

    I have much cream for various situations.

    I wish I didn't need this cream, but then

    maybe I don't?

    For those that didn't exhibit nausea, the confusion still left it difficult for them to navigate their daily lives. Mockery and assault followed Manuel Miguel Hernandez Fernandez wherever he went from then on. Unfortunately for the world, the choice of therapy for managing himself during these times was poetry, resulting in a horrific cycle.

    Eventually the SSF (Space Soccer Federation) had to get involved, and even the UGG (United Galactic Government) had to send special forces to quell the rioting. They forcefully froze Manuel Miguel Hernandez Fernandez's blog page, and hid it from the public until the situation was under control. The anguish of not being able to post publicly sent Manuel Miguel Hernandez Fernandez into a deep depression.

    He resorted to physically writing his poetry down, and keeping it in secret, maybe one day this will be read was his hope. That day wouldn't be soon, but he kept his journals, hoping one day they'd be released for all to enjoy.

    Eventually the chaos of the situation subdued, and the soccer games resumed. Manuel Miguel Hernandez Fernandez was slowly forgotten, and soccer fans everywhere recovered from the effects of his poetry.

    But just wait until you read my journals. . .