Sigh… I am so going to flunk Public Speaking if I continue to stay up all night writing these fanfics… Once again, I do not own Alvin and the Chipmunks.
(BTW, by my standards flunking is anything less than an A (I'm usually all right with an A-))
Simon's foe was deliberately using the full ten seconds allotted for each move, hoping to make the game last long enough so that he would make it to the boxing round and cream Simon. Simon used the extra time the opponent took to plot his own moves, each of which he made in less than a second. He was sweating more profusely than Alvin or any of his foes had in the boxing ring.
Get a grip, he told himself. Nothing's going to go wrong. Alvin's around to take care of the boxing for you.
But I just know that something is going to go wrong. Knowing Alvin…
At the end of four minutes, Simon's foe was one turn away from being checkmated, and he knew it. That should put the pressure on him, Simon thought. "Pardon me, ref, but I have to use the bathroom again."
"Again?"
"Diarrhea!" Simon hurried on over to the restroom.
"Alvin, he's one turn away from losing, which means that he will be quite desperate to win. Expect all offense and no defense. And don't forget to float like a butterfly and sting like a bee".
"Gotcha." Alvin ran out the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Alvin bounced butterfly-like around the ring and showed no mercy with his sting-like punches. He feigned clumsiness a few times in keeping up with the charade, but he got right back up and knocked his foe in the gut right afterward.
At ten seconds left on the clock, the opponent was panting and weak-kneed from throwing all his might into his punches and from trying to keep up with Alvin's incredible agility. He caught his breath for one moment, then roused himself to fight.
In pretending to be Simon, Alvin allowed himself to be punched a few times – not hard enough to bruise, thank goodness, but enough to weaken him. He was already a bit tired from running around and giving his foe the one-two punch, and his foe was powerful, and could easily score a KO with one more punch. Alvin knew his best bet was to play it safe and dodge his foe for the last few seconds, especially since next turn was a guarantee victory for Simon anyway. But he also knew that he was equally capable of KOing his foe with one more punch. Why should Simon get all the glory? he thought.
Alvin charged into his foe, both fists raised. At the count of the last second, the referee called knockout. The fist he raised into the air was Alvin's.
"Umm… may I use the bathroom again?" Alvin asked, clutching his stomach.
"Aww, come on, you can't possibly have overactive bladder and diarrhea that bad!"
"Um, actually…" Alvin brought his glove to his mouth. "All the adrenaline is making me… nauseous…"
Alvin ran to the bathroom and turned the handle to the door. It twisted all the way around and fell off in his hand.
Alvin pushed the door. It wouldn't budge. He stuck his finger through the hole left behind by the fallen doorknob, but he couldn't pull it open either.
"Simon, can you open the door? It appears to be, um broken…"
Simon exited the stall and attempted to push and pull the door open, but to no avail.
"Alvin, you broke the door."
"I broke it? Why does everybody always blame everything on me?"
"Oh, I couldn't imagine why," said Simon sarcastically through the hole. "But never mind. You have to go out there and play chess."
"But I'm terrible at chess!"
"You have to do it, or you forfeit! You don't have to win; you only have to last long enough to make it to the boxing round. Just take the full ten seconds to make each move, and don't move any of the pieces adjacent to your king. In the meantime, I will try to find a way out through the air vents. Hurry up!"
Alvin returned to face his doom at the chess table.