...Flynn wakes up from his park nap, due to the loud thumping of the official's pin counting! As a panic reflex, he lifts a shoulder off the ground before assessing the situation!

Who's on top of him! A wrestler looking to prove himself? Yet another AI robot? Tommy Wish?!?

...

...Nope, it's another goddamn ham sandwich.

Flynn glares at the official, who is currently counting on his park blanket.

"...Dennis."

"...Yes, Mister Flynn?"

"Walk me through your reasoning here. Why the FUCK do you keep counting when ham sandwiches land on me?"

...

"W-w-well... You're the X-Treme champion. The title is always up for grabs."

"Certainly, Dennis. Anyone could pin me at any time..."

...

"Any... ONE. Any PERSON could pin me to become the X-Treme champion."

...

"Dennis. Look in your heart and answer me this. Is a HAM SANDWICH a person?"

...

"No, sir. But, it was ontop of you. My job is to count when something is on top of you."

"Dennis. I can't sleep with blankets because you keep counting when I use them."

"I can't drive with a FUCKING SEATBELT ON because you START COUNTING WHEN I WEAR ONE."

"Last week, at a deli, you started counting and I almost lost the belt, because I had a goddamn CRUMB FROM A REUBEN SANDWICH LAND ON MY SHIRT, DENNIS."

...

"DO YOU THINK A FLECK OF PASTRAMI SHOULD BE THE GODDAMN X-TREME CHAMPION?!?"

...

"If it's on your chest for three seconds?"

...

"Yes."

WHAM! Flynn tugs his park blanket from under Dennis's legs, Dennis tumbles onto his back, completely flummoxed.

"I'm leaving, Dennis. You've ruined my park day."

As he said, Flynn rolls up his blanket and walks away.

...

.....

Dennis picks up and eats the ham sandwich.