We made it back to the airlock and got our antidote with no problems at all. We even managed to make it to
Richard Petty smiled a big cheesy smile and greeted us.
“I’m glad you made here today. I can tell from your expressions it was like living a dream. Your SHARC ran great; you must have Good Year on that thing…I’d like to take this moment and thank my sponsors for bringing you here today. HootersRestaurantNationalFreshSaladDressingsClassicFordMotorGoodYearCokeColaTide&MaxiPads. Now, on to business.”
In his hands were two envelopes with directions for each task, flirt and shirt. I could tell by Emma’s body language what she thought of the shirt option, so I spoke quickly, saying we would take the flirt detour. Emma seemed surprised, but nodded her approval. Petty, confronted by the beauty that is Emma, shoved the envelopes into his pocket and grabbed her hand trying to flirt with her.
“Ya’ know Emmie. You remind me of my first wife. She was a looker too, thanks in part to CoverGirlClariolAlmayRevlon&PlasticSurgury.”
While Emma was eyeing him, clearly debating the consequences of harming the man who was supposed to greet all the contestants, I stealthily slipped the envelopes out of his jacket and switched the directions from the shirt envelope into the flirt envelope before returning them to his pocket. It was a stroke of genius on my part.
Not wasting any more time, we took off before he could start thanking more sponsors. When we arrived in Daytona, the contest had already started. Various catcalls could be heard from the boardwalk. Emma was breathing rather heavily and her jaw was clinched. She turned to face me. “If that Tabu singles’ club is not located next to this wet t-shirt contest, you’re a dead man.”
I tried to pull my best innocent act. “What? How could I have known the directions were wrong? It must have been Richard Petty's mistake.”
“You don’t fool me Petrelli, and I’m not going to participate in a wet t-shirt contest. You are!”
“but…Emma…I know you could win.”
Throwing a t-shirt at me, Emma emphatically stated, “No buts Petrelli. Put this on now. I'll wait for you in that gazebo”
I did as I was told and she led me onto the beach. As soon as our feet hit the sand, everything went quiet. Charlie Sheen stood up, burped loudly, and pointed to Emma. “Look! Boooobs!!!!”
That Charlie Sheen…He is eloquent. I glanced to Emma to see her reaction, afraid that none of us would escape this contest alive; but before I could intervene, someone…several someones threw four coolers of water at her all at the same time. The co-eds went wild. There was screaming and howling right up to the moment Emma slapped me, and then I stopped.
I just knew we had this contest in the bag now, until someone…who shall remain nameless. (Bennet) Yelled, she can’t be in the contest, she isn’t wearing a t-shirt. After Sheen disqualified her from the contest, there was a lot of groaning and complaining; at least until Emma told me to shut up.
She then grabbed my arm and forced me up onto the stage, where I was forced to shake and flex my pecs. The crowd was torn. I feared all was lost, when suddenly I felt a cold chill spread across my chest. I looked down to see ice forming on my pectorals. I knew instantly Emma was responsible. The crowd burst into applause. At the encouragement, I sped up my gyration for the crowd. When I finally left the stage, I thought I had the contest in the bag but Alas that darn Bennet foiled me again by dressing his partner up in drag. #$@# Him. Well, at least I got second place and that is enough to move onto the Pit Stop.
The only thing I have to worry about now is Emma taking revenge on me for switching the envelopes. I think I’m going to go hide in the sauna. A nice hotel like the Marriott is sure to have one.