The Sewer City Saviour: A Marchifornication Redux

I should mention that this is not an official Marchifornication post. This is simply the insanity that Marchifornication will inspire. Many gratitudes and apologies to the BHGP Braintrust, and HFMR, et al.

He sits alone, in his own dark corner of the restaurant, pawing like a fox through the last of his desserts. His plump cheeks accented by a small mouth, ringed in chocolate pudding. He wonders aloud, as he replays events over and over in his mind, trying to figure out how everything turned so quickly:

"What happened?"
"Why Dinosaur Racecars?"
"Why first round?"
"HOW THE FUCK WAS I A FOUR SEED!?"

/calls for check

"They look like big, good, strong hands. Don't they? I always thought that's what they were. My little friends. The little man with his racing snail, the Nighthob, even the stupid bat. I couldn't hold on to them. The nothing pulled them right out of my hands. I failed."

/chuckles

As he waits he notices a member of the kitchen staff, wearing an apron with a grease stain in the shape of Barry Collier, talking with several others. He watches as each chef slowly passes the note like it was on slow-fire, before slowly, but ultimately rushing it to the stained cook to make a last-second move to deliver the crumpled message. He winds his way to the dimly lit stack of plates in the darkened corner booth and leaves the palm-sweat soiled missive, quickly hidden, turning to return to his culinary duties a split-second before the check arrives.

After paying the tab the mysterious man unfolds the strange correspondance to investigate and finds the words he'd been looking for, written in handwriting that looked like it came from someone with two right brain hemispheres and no left.

I matched you up against Dinosaur Racecars and I did it for a reason. Meet me outside the foodcourt. Come alone.

/approaches darkened figure in mall parking lot

Thank you for contacting me. I just want to understand why you would set me up to fail. I mean, I had no shot against velociraptors driving racecars. All I've got is the Pick N'Popsickle, and that's nothing when up against dinosaur motorsports. Why wHOLY SHALLOW HAL, I'M SKINNY!

Timeout.

What?

Don't get too distracted. I'll call two more timeouts in the first seven minutes of this conversation, and then I'll rub my temples the rest of the time.

Coach?!

Timeout.

But you just took a timeout.

I couldn't manage proper execution of my next comment, so I had to burn another one.

Damn.

So why DID you do it? What motivated you to throw away my chances to be a Marchifornication Champion?

/stiffles laughter

And why are we standing in fire?

You probably won't understand right away, but I'm from the future. I had to come back to change your course in life.

That's even creepier than the way the Sioux City Journal writes about me. But why me?

Nevermind the why. You've got a future much brighter than you could have ever imagined, but you've got to listen to me. You're the only human to have ever been sanctioned to race in an IDRI contest, due to your arms being absurdly short even by T-Rex standards.

(Remembrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr?)

And though you didn't win, you did well enough...

If you ain't first, yer last.

...well enough that they never allowed any other human racers to compete, condemning us all to a fiery... uh, I mean if only you'd have won they would have had to allow other humans to participate. You'd have been like Tiger Woods.

I'm confused.

Have you seen Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure? Or maybe the Lost In Space movie co-starring Matt LeBlanc as charismatic but conflicted Major Don West?

Uh, I watch a lot of Food Network.

I've come back in time to alter your path.

/thinks about soft-serve

You will be the greatest Dinosaur Racer that has ever lived.

But I'm not a...

Timeout.

/touches shoulders to indicate 30 second timeout

You're registered with the IDRI as a Cougillsaurus Rex, and that's how you drove last time. They didn't check that stuff back then. Those were the days. They do now of course, but you've already been sanctioned, so you're Grandfathered in.

So...

Your reflexes and instinct are superior to your dino-counterparts, so you'll just need to practice to become a skilled enough racer after the surgery.

Oh cool. You really think I'm good enough to be the best Coach? That's awesom...

After the surgery, yes I think you'll be the best.

Wait, that's the second time you said ''surgery." The first time I thought you just had a speech impediment.

Your arms are short enough, but they are not strong enough to compete with your formerly extinct counterparts. You need metal arms.

Yeah. I've said that before.

/doubletakes

Metal arms.

It will entail removing your human arms and replacing them with ultra-strong and ultra-lightweight metal replicas of your tiny appendages.

DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT?

So what now?

Now we travel through time until you've conquered all forms of racing. Until you are ready to dominate the DRL and save humankind from certain destr... er, you need to try those arms first.

Is that safe?

Well, some bad things can happen. Some kind of butterfly effect thing, with chaos theory and film projection or something; I don't know, I don't really understand that one Iowa actor's...

Tom Arnold!

...movies.

Let's go!