Scccccreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeamin’ down the highway!

A cherry red blur!

Engine smoke drifting skyway!

As the Honda’s engine purrrrrrrrrs.

KUNK! KALUNK!

…Okay, more like, 'mewls pitifully'.

Irwin clings onto the grab handle like the floor is lava as the vehicle’s interior screeches and moans!

“Jesus, Mister Flynn!” Irwin calls out, cupping his hand to be heard over the dying animal that is this Honda Fit, painfully and loudly dying at 95 miles an hour. “What happened to this car?!?”

“Used it.” Flynn pats the dashboard… Which actually crumples inward at his smack. “Since I’ve been Uni champ, I’ve taken this thing to every convention, every arena match… I would’ve driven to Bangkok for that chess match if I could have… I’ve put…” Flynn peers at the dashboard proudly. “...228,000 miles on this car…”

“...Wait. You drove a quarter of a million miles in six months?”

“Oh yeah, baby. And I haul ass. I drove it like I stole it.” Flynn smiles.

…

“Which I did. From a government employee.”

“...Well, I guess that’s the sign of quality, Mister Flynn. Might even hit 300,000 miles if you’re keeping up with routine maintenance.”

“...Main-ten-ants?” Flynn squints.

“...Yeah, you know. Tire rotations? Oil changes?”

Flynn side-eyes Irwin like he’s simple-minded. “Ridiculous. Why would I maintain a car that I STOLE?!?”

“...So you can... keep driving it?”

“It’s a sunk cost, Irwin! I don’t have property rights to this car! In fact, If Redd ever got this car back, HE’D BE the THIEF! He’d be STEALING the car services I’ve paid my hard-earned money for! And furthermo-”

EXPLOSION! The entire vehicle tilts to its side!

Irwin’s ass lifts off the seat as somehow, the chicken handle supports his entire weight…

“Ah shit…” Flynn rapidly spins the wheel. “That was the back-up spare tire…”

“...Aren’t those not supposed to go over 50 mph?”

“Oh puh-leeeeeze. I bet you throw out condiments past the expiration date, just because the FDA tells you it’s a risk for salmonella!” Flynn scoffs. “Fake disease, fake expiration dates...”

The car loudly grins… The smell of burning rubber as Flynn continues to speed on his flat tire!

“U-u-uh! Sh-sh-should we pull over?”

Flynn fehs. “Nah. We’ll ride it out! We’re almost there!”

***

TWO HOURS LATER

The Honda Fit limps through an automatic gate… As the back fender completely drops off the car’s ass-end.

“Phew.” Flynn wipes his forehead clear of sweat. “We’re here.”

…Irwin is laying back in his chair. Eyes wide-open, mouth agape.

Flynn snaps in his face.

“Double-time, I-Dawg! We’re on the clock!”

Irwin snaps to! Clutching at his heart, sucking air.

“Sorry, Mister Flynn. I think… I think my body just shut down… from sheer terror...”

Irwin glances through the windshield as Flynn pops out the car…

And Flynn’s Only Fan’s eyes are beaming.

“OH SHIT!” He throws open the door and leaps out of the death trap car. His mouth hangs open, he smiles wide.

As he looks upon…

A bog-standard storage unit.

“This is it!” Irwin claps his hands. “This is the Storage Unit you used to cut your promos in!”

Flynn nods. “The one and only. Found a 24/7 storage unit that would charge $5 a month, AFTER six months free.” Flynn shakes his head. “This guy WAS desperate to get business. For the first few years of my XWF career, I basically lived in this storage unit.”

…

“And by ‘basically’, I mean that I lived in this storage unit.”

Flynn pats the side. The pull-chain garage-style door rattles and moans from the slightest application of force.

“I drove from this exact storage unit SIX hours, to a Colorado jail cell to bail out Theo Pryce…” Flynn sighs fondly. “I still remember the smell of 210 pounds of cocaine in my dad’s old suitcase…Siiiiiigh, good times…”

Irwin is so excited… His fists are shaking, his legs are shaking, his entire body is electrified Jell-O!

His hands whips into his backpack… Retrieving the camcorder!

“This is a dream come true, Mister Flynn! I can’t believe we’re gonna record trashtalk  in THE Storage Unit!”

Flynn shakes his head.

“Not yet, Irwin.”

“...What?”

“Bobby’s got the momentum. We can’t just go in half-cocked, firing trashtalk. Bobby can refute any point I make right now with ‘I just kicked your ass, what’s different?’.”

“...So.” Irwin tucks the camcorder away, trying to hide a twinge of disappointment. “What ARE we doing here then?”

Flynn yanks the chain… And the storage unit’s door sails open.

“You wanna pull off the win of a lifetime? You want to go down in history as the guy that, at March Madness, proved once and for all that he IS the MOST DOMINANT UNI CHAMP OF ALL-TIME?!?”

Flynn grins.

“Then, you need a plan.”

***

Irwin is sitting in an old school desk. You know, one of those where the chair and the desk are connected that no one can comfortably sit in.

“C’mon, c’mon, where is it?” Flynn pushes over boxes, tossing over his shoulders kitsch XWF memorabilia, like a Future Legend Jordi bobblehead… A box of souvenir cups featuring Ahmed Johnson.

“AHA!” Flynn shoves a handful of boxes to the side! They drop and clatter to the floor… Behind it!

A chalkboard on wheels!

Irwin gasps, delighted!

“Ahhhhhh! The chalkboard! The one that you and NK used to plot out your tag-team strategies to!”

Flynn nods… As he wheels the board front-and-center.

He reaches into the front of his tights… He whips out…

Chalk!

“Okay. The plan is simple.” Flynn sketches on the board.

“Bourbon has two things going for him in this match.”

“1. He’s great at wrestling.”

“2. He’s better at crazy-golf.”

…Flynn stares at the two-item list on the board.

“So… I just gotta get even better than him at putt-putt. AND figure out his secret to wrestling Bourbon so I can counter him on Sunday.”

Irwin nods excitedly.

“Awesome! Two step plan! Easy peasy!”

…Flynn scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

“It would be… Unfortunately, we’re on a rapidly ticking clock…”

“Because of Bourbon’s stipulation, we’ve only got… From this moment…”

Flynn checks his watch.

“...3204 wordsForty-eight hours.”

“And that’s a very short time to master a sport… Even a stupid one like mini-golf.”

…

……Irwin clears his throat awkwardly.

“So… I have a… lead… on that front.”

Flynn’s ears perk curiously.

“Apparently, there’s an XWFer who’s a mini-golf master. Like, an underground Putt-Putt legend.”

“ARGH! HELL YEAH!” Flynn is delighted! “That’s great news!”

…

Irwin grits his teeth in dread.

…Flynn’s brow scrunches curiously.

“...Is that NOT… Great news?”

“*cough*... It would be…” Irwin scratches his neck, pulling up something on his phone.

“If you hadn’t left him for dead the last time you competed.”

Flynn scoffs, batting his hand through the air.

“Sounds like you’re being dramatic, Irwin.”

Irwin shakes his head, tilting his phone screen toward Flynn.

“No. I’m not.”



“Literally. Left for Dead.”

…

……Inhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale.

“Shiiiiii-IT.”