This really is just a load of nonsense. The main idea of this series is quite simple. Because Hleb is perpetually injured, off form, and just generally doesn’t play much, he decides that he will dedicate his free time in writing his experiences in a journal. The journal will then be given to his son [he doesn’t believe he’ll have a daughter], whom he addresses as Hleb Junior, so that he will learn valuable things from it.
Of course, this is Hleb we’re talking about, so he inevitably gets Hlebbed in each journal entry.
There’s no real timeline or setting for them. They can span from his time at Stuttgart, Barcelona, Arsenal, Birmingham, or somewhere made up in some alternate universe. In other words, it can be completely random.
(I also have an additional idea called ‘Find Hleb a Job’ but I’m not sure how to go about it yet.)
In deciding what to write, a prompt is given and some kind of story is written around it in first person (you write through Hleb’s eyes). The prompt is given in the following format:
In which Hleb (insert idea here).
I know, it’s pretty lame; but it’s also terribly fun and a good writing exercise. Plus, it gives you something to do with the break and all.
The ‘interactive’ part of this post is basically you giving out prompts in the comments section, or, if you’re feeling bold, taking someone else’s prompt and writing your own entry.
Anyway, you can just see what I mean below. ]
In which Hleb goes to buy a book and teaches everyone the value of honesty.
I love to read. There is nothing I consider more riveting for the mind than to immerse oneself in classical literature for hours on end.
I am also quite keen on visualization. Choosing a novel, fiction or otherwise, and imagining yourself in place of the protagonist is a brilliant way to motivate yourself.
It is for those reasons I entered a local bookstore in search of a novel depicting the life of Alexander the Great.
I found the novel with ease and not only was it thorough; it also contained fifty percent more illustrations than your average picture book.
This pleased me greatly.
As I made my way to the queue to buy the book, I noticed an unusually high number of civilians in line.
This was disappointing.
However, I dutifully waited in line until it was my turn to purchase my book and sauntered over to the cashier. To endear myself to the woman, and possibly secure a premium discount on my novel (it does not matter if you don’t need one. Get it anyway. You must be shrewd in life, Hleb Junior), I decided I would be polite and address her by her name.
Casually glancing at her name tag out of the corner of my eye, I was met with the most peculiar name I’d ever seen.
The name tag read: !xobila.
Now Hleb Junior, it is very important to have values. It is under these values that society continues to function in an orderly manner.
One of the most important values in life is honesty. Women, in particular, extol this virtue.
It is with that life fact in mind that I asked the cashier a simple, innocuous, and completely appropriate question:
“When deciding a name for you, did your parents slam their fingers on a keyboard and go with whatever combination of letters appeared on the screen?”
I was promptly escorted out of the store by security looking fellows.
In which Hleb reveals his love of BritComedy and gets benched.
Have I ever told you how much I enjoy British comedy? The satire and dry wit of Englishmen and women amuses me to no end. Even the football coaches are comical and that is quite something.
I play for Birmingham. I know, I know. Shocking. But it is really only because they are so ghastly. You see, Barcelona decided to loan me there to even out the playing field as an act of Good Will (they have an agreement with Unicef and must play the part) and I wanted to fill the generosity quota for my lifetime so I agreed.
Naturally, I’ll be playing every game – the competition is nonexistent. I often wonder how these brutes qualify as professional footballers, but the world is full of mysteries, Hleb Junior.
The day before a game against my beloved Arsenal coached by my second father Arsene Wenger, my coach decided to announce the starting XI after training. Odd, I know, but England is an odd place.
As he was listing out the names, he looked at me pointedly and said:
“Alex, you start on the bench.”
Oh, how I love British humour.
[Thoughts? Good idea? Bad idea? Did anyone even read this?
Also, I don’t expect anyone to get the reference, so the explanation behind !xobila: