Man Versus Car

The stadium was packed full. Michael Jenkins stood alone on the dirt ring staring down his opponent, a regular old Volkswagen. He tried to block out the cheering from the audience as he cleared his mind.

Maybe I’ll be the first, he thought. Maybe I won’t have to die tonight.

“Don’t forget to pump up the crowd! It’s in your contract remember?” said his manager from the sideline. Jenkins took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling. This is what I’ve been working towards, he said to himself. He suddenly went into a frenzy, pumping his fists into the air while showing off his tattoos and mohawk.

“You wanna see me FUCK this car up? DO YOU PEOPLE FUCKING HEAR ME? I’M NOT GOING TO DIE TONIGHT, I’LL FUCK THIS CAR UP!” he yelled to the audience. The crowd went wild. He noticed a boy in the crowd around eight years old. He had on face paint and was holding up the newly released Michael Jenkins action figure. Jenkins was suddenly filled with a rush of adrenalin and enthusiasm. Don’t you worry kid, he thought. That toy will still be worth something after the match. I fucking promise you.

An announcer’s voice filled the stadium.

“Randy Dicknose coming to you live from PBS,it’s Man…versus Car! The newest hit show where it pits a man…versus a car. On tonight’s episode, Michael Jenkins fights a regular old…car…Here we go!”

All the cameras turned towards Jenkins and the car. Jenkins immediately pushed all of his weight against the front bumper of the car. Through his arms he could feel the engine start to rev up and push back against him. Jenkins braced himself, digging his feet into the dirt. The car was pushing back harder now, and Jenkins felt his feet beginning to slip back. Not today you fucker, he thought. I’ll fucking kill you. I’m not going to die. Not with my wife and daughter watching from home. While thinking of his family, Jenkins felt the last surge of energy come through his legs. With all his might he managed to push the car back a few feet.

“…Oh! He’s got a little bit of pushback there…” the announcer continued. Suddenly the car went into full throttle and ran clear over Jenkins, tires running directly over his body. Jenkin’s legs were gorged off his body, leaving stumps with splintered bone sticking out. The car’s front tire continued to gorge into Jenkins face, shooting off pieces of nose, skull and brains. “…Oh no…he just got ran over and…chewed up by the tires…I guess that’s another one for the cars… heh heh heh…I mean wouldn’t the cars always win?”

“Jesus christ,” the manager said. “Somebody get poor Jenkin’s body off of there.” The crew members rushed onto the ring and carried off the big chunks. Two men brought back Jenkin’s torso while another brought back his limbs. “God damn it. Who has the fucking coffin?”

“Sir? What should I give to the media?” asked the manager’s assistant.

“Just tell them…Regular Car takes home another grand victory! Yeah that.”

“But that’s what we told them last time.”

“And that’s what we’ll tell them next time too.”

“Should we send something to Jenkin’s wife?”

“She was probably watching from home. I guess something to express our thoughts would be nice though. Hey assholes!” The manager turned to the crew members, who were putting away pieces of Jenkins into a coffin. It was painted black with red flames on it, along with some lightning bolts that spelled JENKINZ. “Don’t put away all of Jenkins yet, bring me a leg.” A crew member brought the manager Jenkin’s right leg. “Just send her this…fuck it’s still dripping. Hang it on the rafter until it dries out and send it to her in a gift box or some shit.”

The manager stepped out of the stadium for a smoke. Out the corner of his eye he could see that the regular car was already swarmed with reporters and fans asking for autographs.

“Regular Car! This is your 15th victory in a row, do you feel that you might be slowing down in the game or will you still push through your career as one of the greatest mechanical wrestlers ever?”

“BEEP BEEP! HONK HONK!”

“Amazing… well there you go folks, it doesn’t seem that Regular Car is slowing down anytime soon, stay tuned for the rest of the interview!”

The manager’s smoke break was interrupted. He was approached by a young man in his late twenties.

“You were Jenkin’s manager right?”

“Yeah. What do you want?”

“I want to be on the show. I know I can do it! I’ll be the first! I’ll bring the first human victory!”

The manager wanted to tell the kid to go home and call his parents to tell them he loved them. But he also knew he needed another fighter if the show was to continue.

“Why the hell not. Just sign this form. It resolves PBS and its employees of all blame in case of injury and/or death.” The young wrestler quickly signed the papers without reading. “What’s your name kid?”

“Justin.”

“Well Justin, I’m Dan and I’ll be your manager from now on. I’ll make you into a hero. Even if you don’t win, you’ll get to die a hero.”