London had become a desolate husk. Other than some sweet “B” ranked gear, jolly old England had nothing to offer me – nothing but a a clue, that is. My next destination was “south of the maze.” Having no idea where the maze was, however, this “clue” was all but useless. Lacking any indication as to where to proceed next, I held my racket aloft and prayed to the spirit of legendary tennis warrior Björn Borg for guidance. I’m pretty sure he told me to head east. This was quite convenient, as it was the only corner of the sub-Spanish dessert continent I had yet to explore.
East of the Spanish desert and the sylvan remnants of England, I found a mountain range, which I assume had to be the Rockies, because that made the least amount of sense. My “B” ranked gear held true, however; my fancy new shirt scared off most of the homicidal tennis cat-men I encountered along the way, and the ones that weren’t frightened away quickly wound up on the wrong side of 40-love.
I emerged from the South Dakota foothills to encounter a small island village, separated from the rest of Tennis Pangaea by the smallest of bridges. This would be the last town I would encounter in my journey. I’m out of geography jokes… so let’s just guess. Canada?
Oh, hi Witt. Something was happening This perversely distorted geographic hellhole was starting to make sense to me.
Toronto was in no better shape than any of the other once-thriving metropolises I had encountered during my quest.
Canada’s most populous city had been reduced to four residents: one shopkeeper, the obligatory greeter, and two canuck lobotomites. Let’s take the grand tour, shall we?
I did not need any more advice on shoes. After all, I had WALKED all the way from Chicago to get here.
An inner tube, you say? What use could that possibly have on a tennis court? Then again, what use did I have for magical pearls? Björn Borg would want me to do this.
Now as for the shop….
“A” ranked gear! My God, could the “A” stand for…
…Agassi? It had to. I couldn’t afford it just yet, but I knew I would need to have the image of a rebel if I was going to take down the Evil Tennis King and marry Brooke Shields. I’d need to earn some money on my tube quest.
Using my new-found prophesied GPS powers, I deduced that the maze had to be somewhere north of Toronto – you know, through the Rockies towards Paris. I steeled myself for the journey ahead and left Toronto with determination in my heart.
Yep, this sure looked like a maze.
It certainly had some labyrinthine qualities.
Yep, some dead ends too.
More than a few, actually.
At long last, after an hour of wandering the misty Canadian mountains, stopping every five steps to tennis battle this disturbed looking individual, I had found it. This had to be where I would find the mysterious inner tube of legend, which would undoubtedly send me floating down the lazy river to glory.
YOU RAT SOUP EATING SPIT CURL HAVING PIECE OF YUKON TRASH! WHO LIVES IN THE MIDDLE OF A MYSTERIOUS MOUNTAIN MAZE IF THEY HAVE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DISTRIBUTE TO RANDOM QUESTING HEROES? SOME OF US HAVE DAY JOBS! Seriously though, what did this guy eat? The nearest town was three screen lengths away! Tennis balls. It had to be tennis balls. Either that, or he was a cannibal. There’s no wildlife in Tennis Kingdom other than roving cat people and tennis rapists.
…so after about another hour, I found this place.
Thank God. Hey buddy – maybe tell your cannibal clone on the other side of the maze to stop being such a dick. Did this man have any other nuggets of wisdom for me?
FINALLY! USEFUL ADVICE! It was time to put a bullet in this quest. After two hours of wandering near-aimlessly through the Yukon, I was ready to unleash my fury on something. And now I knew exactly where that something was. It was time to take to the seas.
Thankfully, there’s no marine life, tennis frogmen, or any other type of aquatic danger in the seas of Tennis Kingdom. I steered my tube to the North. I didn’t have the power of Agassi yet, nor had I grabbed all of the pearls, but I felt I was ready – my rage would not be quelled.
North of the maze and to the east of Tokyo, I happened upon a secluded castle. Inside…?
SURPRISES indeed! I had at last learned the horrible truth about my adversary. In addition to being green, the EVIL TENNIS KING WAS ALSO THE DEVIL. THE DEVIL. I HAD BEEN TASKED WITH DEFEATING THE DEVIL IN A THREE SET MATCH OF TENNIS. His serve was unbeatable… utterly unbeatable. For all my fury, I was powerless against Beelzebub, lord of the Tennis flies. I would need something more. Something… magic.
NEXT TIME: DIVINE RETRIBUTION….?