"I think it's time for me to barge in." The figure draped in a silky white cloak speaks into his transmitter. His palms are sweaty, he doesn't know what his true goals are, he's only following what his instructor tells him.
"Wait for a bit, Parappa," the instructor responds, "the race has only just started, give them a little surprise." The sound of car engines can be heard from the instructor's side.
Parappa checks himself underneath the white cloak. He's got his proper attire, helmet, gloves, and the most important thing. Hidden in his bag of snacks and papers, is an explosive device. When this device goes off, it could possibly destroy a whole football field and turn it into a desert within seconds. Parappa has this device because his instructor gave it to him. He doesn't know what this could do, he's just following orders.
"Now, get in the car!" The transmitter rings.
"Get in the car!" Parappa repeats.
Parappa throws his cloak off and quickly takes out a key from his pocket to unlock the automobile. He opens the door, sits down, puts on his seatbelt, turns on the car, and sighs deeply, waiting for an instruction. He turns on the radio to the sports channel broadcasting the NASCAR race. "On our 20th lap, weave got Dale Earnhardt Jr. taking fifth place right now, and, boy, it doesn't get more intense than this." Parappa smirks at the comment from the broadcast, knowing he's about to get some excitement in about two minutes.
"Step on the gas!" The instructor yells.
"Step on the gas," Parappa peels out towards the race track driveway.
Going from 0 to 60mph in less than five seconds, Parappa aims his car for the conveniently placed ramp, thanks to his instructor, that will take him to the actual race track.
"Parappa, you have the bag, right?"
"Yeah, I have the bag."
"Good! Remember, car number 88 is the one you need to throw the bag into."
"Car 88, got it!"
Almost 100 feet away from the ramp, Parappa looks in his rear view mirror and notices the cop car's flashing blue and red lights. He laughs and slams the accelerator, going into the air, onto the race track. The car squeals and rattles after landing, but Parappa ignores the fact, and shifts his eyes for car number 88. Police sirens are wailing, the crowd is cheering, the cars are racing. This is truly a NASCAR event.
"What is this!?" Parappa hears on the radio, "Looks like a circus act is about to commence on the race tack, this evening!"
"Parappa, what are you doing? 88!"
"88!"
Spotted.
Parappa burns the rubber, towards Dale Earnheardt Jr. NASCAR champion. Going 150mph, and in 4th place, now, Parappa has to get past the other cars. His Toyota Prius, is nearly indestructible compared to the other vehicles. Car number 88 is 2 places ahead and ready to rumble.
"Get the bag ready, Parappa."
"I got the bag ready!"
The bag is already on the dashboard, waiting to be thrown into the passenger seat of car number 88. Parappa, is right behind Dale Earnheardt Jr., now he just has to get on the right side of him, without getting hurt. The concrete wall is smiling at Parappa. It has seen, scraped, and hurt every car on the track. If Dale knows what's going on, then Parappa's car is going to say goodbye to its paint job.
Luckily, car 88's main focus is to get to first place, so the car is trying to make sharp turns going towards the left side of the track.
"Parappa, this is almost too easy. Go get him!"
"Too easy!"
Parappa, swiftly gets right beside Dale Earnheardt Jr's. racer. He quickly reaches for the bag and looks towards Dale. Since he's also wearing a helmet, Parappa doesn't know what expression is about to unfold in the driver's face. The lightweight bag makes it into car number 88's passenger window.
"Good job, Parappa. Now get outta this track!"
"Outta this track!"
Parappa breaks through the wooden fence at the crowd entrance and aims towards the exit of the parking lot. He almost forgot about the police, but they were too slow to go after him.
"Parappa look behind you, you're about to have a fireworks show."
Parappa looks in his side-view mirror of a reflection of the speedway.
"Count with me, Parappa! Three….. two…. one…"
"One…. Zero!"
At the count of zero, a big mushroom cloud replaced the image of the speedway.
"You did it Parappa," said the instructor, "you defeated Dale Earnheardt Jr. for me! Now celebrate."
"Celebrate!"