“Well… how the tables have turned,” Larry shrugged, “But, perhaps it falls unto me to issue another challenge. Weighing my options out loud here, I will admit that I feel quite threatened by Mr Randal ‘Savage’ over there. With regards to the surfer jock over there… Woe betide me to play the monster and break up a loving family. And to challenge a lady, especially someone as endowed as Miss SuperStack… why I would lose sleep over something like that.”
“Betcha you would, slime-ball!” Randal called, “I can see exactly what kind of skeevy guy you are with your leisure suit and your stupid haircut! I’m betting you think the only way you’ll be able to make it with a woman is if they were literally brainwashed into doing it. I betcha real girls take one look at your loser ass and leave to go throw up! Ain’t that right, Larry? Larry the leisure suit loser? Leisure Suit Larry?”
“Funny you mention that,” the schlubby Rhode Islander chuckled, “Leisure Suit Larry was my nickname back in college! Y’know, on account of my always wearing these. No foolin’! But look bud, it’s not that I’m trying to be repulsive on purpose or anything! You hit the nail on the head on that assumption, but this game’s not just a scheme for me to finally get some action. It’s my chance to turn my life around, and win or lose I don’t want to die a pathetic loser. Listen, bud, let’s strike a deal. If I win this one I’ll make you the lead entertainer at my bar. You can caterwaul all you like, and you can keep your exotic feline harem too. You won’t mind sharing, right?”
“Okay, Larry,” Randal grinned, cracking his knuckles, “but if I win, I ain’t adding you to my dancers. I’m gonna make you into punching bag, and I’m gonna let my girls use you as a scratching post! Fair’s fair?”
“F-fair’s fair,” Larry nodded, “This time, you pick the game, okay?”
“Okay, pipsqueak,” Randal chortled, “I’ll call your bluff! I challenge you to a different college game. The Stab Between The Fingers game. First to draw blood, loses.”
“A-alright then,” Larry gulped. ‘Just keep your cool, Larry. Keep your cool… just let him whip himself up. He’ll slip up eventually. I hope.’
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” the host announced, “We have a new challenge issued! Let’s set the table!” Another wireframe table with barstools, this time provided with huge Bowie knives. The competitors took their places and taped their hands to the table. “Before we play, each player will take a shot of whiskey and then the game will begin!”
The men took their drinks, picked up their knives, and waited for the bell to begin. With the ding, Larry started fairly slowly, making sure he remembered the pattern. Randal was already moving pretty fast, egging the Rhode Islander to pick up the pace.
“FASTER, Leisure Suit!” Randal shouted.
“I’m going faster,” Larry assured, “Y’know, there’s a song that goes to this game!”
“Oh yeah?”
“I think it goes something like… I have all my fingers… the knife goes chop chop chop… if I miss the spaces in-between my fingers will come off. Something like that?”
“Well I ain’t gonna miss!” Savage barked, “even if I go faster!”
The two kept going faster with every revolution around their fingers. Randy kept shouting “faster” as they went, getting himself more and more riled up.
‘Keep your cool, Letterman,’ Larry said to himself, ‘Just let him be the instrument of his own destruction.’
“FASTER DAMMIT, FASTER!” Randal shouted, his aim getting sloppy, “FASTER! FASTERFASTERFASTERFASTER! FASTE-” He stopped. The knife slipped in his frenzy. He’d sliced his pinkie finger clean off. Larry dropped his knife, fainting both at the sight of blood, and relief that it was over. For better or worse, he won.
————
“Larry… Larry!… Hey Leisure Suit! Wake up already!”
He returned to the living world staring into the face of a brainwashed glam metal jaguar girl.
“Randal?”
“It’s Rachel, actually,” the jaguar sighed, “Still can’t fuckin’ believe you beat me… and that you actually seem tolerable to me. Alright, fine. I’ll be your stupid bar’s singer or whatever. I’m at your mercy, Larry… scumbag.”
“Guess I should give you an attitude adjustment later,” Larry said, standing back up, “but I’m open to giving the ice queen angle a taste. Welcome to the Lefty’s team, Rachel. Lefty’s… that’s the name of the bar I’m gonna open when I win. My grandpa used to have a bar called Lefty’s. It’ll be in memory of him.”
Two left to close out Round 2! The semifinals approach! What’s going to happen next?!