ICRS: Mr. Peepers

Name: Mr. Peepers
Age: 21
Height: 6' 1"
Preferred Drink: Pete's Wicked Ale
Training Grounds: Champaign
Overall ICRS: 3.25

Individual Competitive Score

Tolerance:
* * *
One day he'll be a man, grow some chest hair, and be able to drink more than two beers without becoming woozy. That day is not today.

Boot Factor:
* *
Last year, I thought I'd be a nice brother and get him what he wanted for his birthday, a bottle of Captain Morgan. Five hours later I got a present in the form of a late night phone call.

"Your brother's really sick. He's puking and pooping at the same time."
"Is he still wearing pants?"
"No, he's in the bathroom right now. What does that matter?"
"Shitting in your pants sucks. He'll live. Good night."

He's smart enough to take his pants off before pooping. Are you listening Trifecta? Since it's only beer, I don't expect a repeat performance.

Chug Ability:
* * *
He's an accounting major so I'll put this in terms he can understand using a simple equation:
Mr Peeper's Chug Time >>> His sister's Chug Time.

Quarter Skills:
* * *
Quarters requires you have at least fifty cents in change. Since every occasion it's time to buy beer, he's completely out of money, I can only assume he's never been able to play this game.

Pong Ability:
* * * * *
This is his event. Playing at his apartment on a door, brought back good memories, and revitalized the sport amongst us older competitors. He's a good shot and is nearly impossible to sneak a bounce by. That being said, I'm his older brother and therefore I still dominate him.

Beer Die/Guy:
* * *
While still in high school he was foolishly considering attending IU, a place even rats and cockaroaches don't want to hang out. We brought him to U of I, fed him tacos, gave him some margaritas, and forced him to play several games of Beer Die. He can't catch worth a damn, but the fact it played a signfigant role in his college choice has to count for something.

Flip Ability:
* * * *
Let's get this straight, Mr. Peepers is not good at sports. He runs like a girl, jumps like a woman, and if he has to throw something more than 20 feet, there's a real risk that his arm may snap in two. But his flip is a work of art. You might think for a moment that he is a real man. That is until he celebrates with wild slapping and high pitched squeals of joy.

Intangibles:
* * *
He's taunted Packers fans in Green Bay, trash talked a 400 lb. man, and even regularly eaten at Bamba. If that doesn't show courage, I don't know what does. What he could use more of is actual drinking ability, a trait he is sorely lacking. Sure he'll dive into walls for errant dice, drink an extra four beers for the team, or sacrafice his body to block a pong ball, but eventually courage will turn to shame when he wakes up with his clothes on the rooftop and "WOMAN" written on his forehead.