Anyway, I’d love to tell you the play-by-play of the epic, vicious, bloody battle between me and Fred Savage, but he was telling the truth—he really did suck at video games. Seriously, like, Mr. Blockbuster could’ve beaten him. My mom could’ve beaten him. Hell, Bubbles could’ve beaten him using his flippers.
The funniest part of all was that Fred Savage was really, really trying to win, you know? Like, even though he knew he sucked, he was scrunching up his face and trying to concentrate while he played. And every time he screwed up—which was constantly—he’d make grunting sounds and say things like “Gosh darn it all!” and “Focus, Fred! Focus!”
I mean, I guess I could’ve given him credit for not giving up when facing a superior competitor like myself. But I knew that underneath all his bogus boy-next-door charm was the same asshole who’d left me in the dust during my time of need.
So instead I just laughed, absolutely obliterated him, and demanded the keys to his Lambo when I was done.
“Did you actually think I would give you my car?” he said. “You’re not even old enough to drive! And I never agreed to that bet!”
“Whatever,” I said. “I shoulda known an asshole like you would back out.”
“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked.
I turned and looked out at the thousands and thousands of people in the crowd. “You know,” I said, “I guess I should actually thank you. I came a long way to get to this championship. Dealt with a lot of shit on the lonely road that you and Corey Woods, your character in The Wizard, couldn’t even dream of. But nothing was harder than when you cursed me out and left me to die.
“But you know what?” I said, grabbing the collar of his polo shirt, which was buttoned to the very top. “It only made the Doctor even stronger.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he said. “That was you?”
“Oh, so glad he finally remembers!” I shouted to the crowd. (I was being sarcastic.) “The man who screamed, ‘Fuck you! I hate children! Now, stay away from my beautiful car and go to hell!’ finally knows who I am!”
“I didn’t say any of those things!” he said. “I shouted, ‘Somebody help me! A naked maniac with incredible athleticism who’s holding some pretty cool He-Man pajamas is accosting me!’ ”
“Well,” I said, “that does sound a lot like me.”
“You came out of nowhere!” he said. “This angry nude boy with superhumanly taut muscle tone just running and screaming like a madman. It was horrifying! I-I guess I didn’t recognize you now with your wraparound sunglasses on.”
“But I heard you!” I roared.
“I don’t even use the F-word!” he said. “I say ‘fudge’ when I get upset, which isn’t often.”
“Huh,” I said.
“In fact,” he said, “as soon as I drove away I even used my car phone to call the police and the local psychiatric authorities to tell them a disturbed naked youth with highly developed calves needed counseling pronto.”
I looked out at the crowd and saw a pair of cops and a couple old dudes in white lab jackets with clipboards standing around. They smiled and gave me a supportive thumbs-up.
“Well,” I said. “You can see how I could make that mistake. What you said and what I heard sound very similar.”
“No, not really.”
“Wow,” I said. “So you’re really not an asshole! You really are a nice guy!”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I really am a nice guy.”
I handed him my copy of The Wizard—which I now officially owned—and a pen. “Can a fan get your autograph?” I asked.
“Of course,” Fred Savage said. “Anything for a fan.”
I gave him a firm handshake. When it was all said and done he had been a worthy competitor.
The crowd cheered. My parents breathed sighs of relief. I fist-bumped Wolf Blitzer and wished him well with the whole twenty-four-hour-news thing, which sounded like a stupid idea.
Most important of all, I really had finally broken out of my small town, even though I’d only walked five minutes away from my house. I had my very first popcorn-box-with-a-VHS-tape-stuck-in-it trophy, and just like that I’d become the most famous, dominant gamer in America.
And guess what?
Blockbuster was so freaked out by the way I’d highjacked their one-time-only promotional tournament that they decided to hold a second one the following year. They wanted to give someone “normal” (lame) a chance to win.
So I came back and won the whole thing all over again. That pissed them off, so they announced they’d never hold one of their wildly successful national tournaments again. This was yet another example of why Blockbuster is the smartest, most timeless Fortune 3 company in the world. They’re just waiting for Netflix to make one wrong move before they come roaring back to dominance.
Unfortunately, Fred Savage couldn’t make it back for the 1994 championship, but I did get my parents to drive me there in our very own onyx-black Lamborghini Diablo. I may have even convinced them to let me take the wheel myself for a block or two. Yeah, it was a rental, but if there was one thing I knew, it was this:
I was the Two-Time, Back-to-Back 1993–94 Blockbuster Video Game Champion. Traveling any other way no longer made sense.
I. Note: The contents of this story take place in Dimension V, coincidentally the same dimension where all the stuff in V: The Final Battle actually happened in real life. Some details may not apply to Dimensions 1, R, and #;K@1}`, or whatever dimension you’re currently inhabiting at this exact second.
CHAPTER 4 GROOMING WITH THE DOCTOR
A lot of people have a
