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Author's Chapter Notes:
"Wacky Races" and other Hanna-Barbera concepts/characters are the intellectual property of Time-Warner.
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The two cars roared on to the L.A. Freeway. Each one alternating with the other for the initial lead. One moment, it was the Ferrari California driven by Penelope Pitstop (who bore a strange "resemblance" to Jordyn Wieber). The next moment, it was the Ford Mustang GT California Special driven by Pebbles Paesano (who bore an equally strange "resemblance" to Vanessa Ferrari)!

Of course, the FCC only allowed a certain amount of dead air, every so often. So, the phantom announcer had to keep talking. Even if it meant belaboring the obvious or merely spouting trivia that was only mildly interesting.

For example:

"In case you weren't aware of it, folks, Pebbles Paesano is the daughter of one-time Indianrockolis winner Goggles Paesano (who was, unfortunately, disqualified on a technicality). So, her race-car driver's education came mostly from him. The remainder, after he passed away, was obtained from her father's identical twin proteges, Rock and Gravel Slag. And, she must have been a very apt pupil. Because look at her springing into the lead!"

In this case, he was speaking quite literally. For, as they entered the on-ramp leading to the interchange with the Santa Monica Freeway, Pebbles' bare feet suddenly emerged from the bottom of the Mustang. With actual coiled springs on the soles of them!

As a result, she virtually leap-frogged over the Ferrari California.

Little Bob Bullfinch, still bound to the green flag, looked up at Trixie Racer (who bore a strange "resemblance" to Beth Tweddle).

"I don't believe it."

The latter's only response was to smile back at the shrunken naked man and wink.

"Now, they're approaching the Slosson Cut-off! From there, the two racers will start heading northward towards the Canadian border. And, from there, to the finish line at...Juneau, Alaska!!"


Little Bob couldn't believe his ears. For the first five minutes of this wacky race, he had felt like both an observer and a participant. His three-dimensional self watching his animated counterpart enduring the same form of humiliating captivity. But, now, to hear someone who sounded like Mr. Kimball, from "Green Acres," committing plagiarism?

"That announcer just ripped off Johnny Carson!" he exclaimed (to the flesh-and-blood Beth): "Johnny Carson used to do that joke as part of his Tea-time Movie skit on THE TONIGHT SHOW.* "

"Don't worry, little fella," replied Beth: "No one's really getting their slosson cut off. After all; this game's only PG-rated!"

That was the other crazy part of his current predicament. He had just awakened, ten minutes ago, within the common room at the Olympic Women's Dormitory. With Beth (wearing a practice leotard in basic black) clutching him tightly over her folded legs. While Vanessa and Jordyn--wearing the same kind of leotards--played a weird video game. Their petite derrieres moving almost hypnotically, side-to-side and/or up-and-down, everytime they maneuvered their respective joysticks to simulate the race cars going around a curve.

"Beth; Ms. Tweddle. Please! Just hand me over to Jordyn. She's a fellow American. She can, at least, get me home!"

"Sorry, mate," Beth replied: "She's got to win you, fair and square."

And, with that pronouncement, the gymnastic giantess used her left hand's thumb to gag Little Bob's mouth.

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