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... "I wondered what caused you to crash your BuiLorean? You are the world's greatest NARCAS (note the not use of a trademark?), and have never crashed before?" she asked sheepishly, cowering from my snippishly snapping at her.
"I am?" slipped out before I could think to bite my tongue and think about what sort of world I had gotten myself into.
Leaving the coffee shop, I located the nearest trash can and found a newspaper, because the coins in my pocket from my world did not work here. Crappy jalopy transformed, but hard currency apparently did not.
Turning to the sports section, I used my sleeve cuff and hand flesh to wipe away the moist garbage that clung to the newsprint. There before my eyes was the headline: NARCAS King Conquers Another Race Course.
"I'm going to have to learn to use the brakes," I told myself.
Luckily, the sports section listed my address, so I hailed a cab and was whisked away home. But what's this? The door is ajar....
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