>"May the best pony win!" You declare, smiling
>"I'm not a fucking pony! Quit talking like a fa-" He stops himself, remembering the strict sportsmanship rules and that he winner of this game would move onto the top 8 and compete for thousands of dollars and an invitation to the pro tour. Instead of finishing his sentence he scoffs angrily, his fat, greasy cheeks wobbling and flushed with rage.
>You are playing a Control deck against his Aggro deck
>He plays his first creature on turn 2
>You destroy it on the end of his turn
>On turn 3 he plays another creature
>You counter it
>"God damn control decks are so stupid and boring to play against!" His left eye twitches involuntarily
>Turn 4 he nervously plays a pretty big creature, his hand is so sweaty at this point that he actually fumbles his card
>You just play another land and pass the turn
>He chuckles, attacks, and plays two more creatures, smiling smugly
>"End of turn. Quicken. Supreme Verdict." You announce casually, indicating that all his creatures die.
>A handful of half eaten Cheetos fall from his gaping mouth, spilling orange powder all over his now-dead battlefield.
>"YOU'RE SO FUCKING LUCKY! DO YOU JUST HAVE ALL THE A-ANSWERS?!" he screams, his voice cracking with rage like a prepubescent boy, ignoring the fact that he kept a slow hand and overcommitted his board position.
>"Hey now, cheer up, after all, it's just a ga-"
>"Just a- just a GAME?! Maybe to some stupid faggot PONY-FUCKING LUCKER NOOBLORD!" At this point his face completely covered in sweat, his eyes completely bloodshot, his moobs heaving up and down as he starts to hyperventilate.
>A judge, hearing all the commotion, walks up to him and taps him on the shoulder
>He whirls around angril
>"FUCK OFF!"
>That's when he notices the white-and-black striped uniforms
>His face goes completely white, as he stares, dumbstruck like a goat in the Friendship Express's headlights
>The judge calmly says "come with me" and speaks to him a few tables away.
>Guy looks like he's about to cry the entire time
>You can't make out what he's saying, but he is definitely upset and shouting
>He storms back to the table to collect his cards
>Furious, he slams his backpack onto the table, as if he was going to pick up his cards.
>The judge turns to you and says "Your opponent has received a match loss for Unsporting Conduct -- Major. Please put away your deck and wait for next round's pairings to get up."
>The judge still has his eye on you to make sure that you both leave each other alone as he instructed
>You start to walk away, but from the corner of your eyes you're able to lock eyes with him
>"GG" you whisper, just quiet enough that he and he alone could hear you.
>"IT-WAS-NOT-A-GOOD-GAME!" he shouts as he crams one of his sausage-fingers into his jacket pocket
>For a split second you wonder if neckbeard is about to pull a knife on you
>Out of  his pocket slides his inhaler, but his hand is so slobby with sweat mixed with cheeto grease that the inhaler tumbles to the floor
>He tries to bend over, his obese ass crack mooning everyone behind him, but the inhaler is still just out of his reach
>Completely panting like a woman going into labor, he screams incoherently, seething with rage and literally foaming greasy orange saliva at his lips. Tears running down his eyes, he flips the table in rage.
>At this point, you're already a good 45 feet away.
>Meek and useless, his arms are only able to flip the small table onto its side.
>His all-foil deck cascades onto the concrete floor, and he begins to shout "nooooo" in horror as his uncapped mountain dew ricochets off the floor, blasting sticky acidic soda all over his $2500, 100% foil deck
>As he struggles to salvage what's left of his deck, the judge taps him on the shoulder again, frowning and visibly ticked.
>"That's your second strike. As per the floor rules, you are now disqualified" you can just faintly make out the words "Because your actions
>Even though he didn't make top 8, he was still going to get hundreds of dollars worth of booster packs
>He had already invested a plane ticket and a $300 hotel bill into his trip
>His deck is likely ruined, losing him hundreds of dollars of investments
>"Furturemore," the judge continues, "due to the particularly disruptive nature of your actions, you are no longer allowed to be on the premises"
>The judge signals a security guard and the guard grabs the sobbing manchild by his elbow, and drags him out the door while he's still sobbing
>With plenty of time left in the round, you buy an overpriced slice of pizza from the vendor, put on your headphones, and prepare for the top 8