Special Note: This chapter and all the ones after it take place AFTER my "Have Some Candy" one-shot, which if you haven't read it already I don't really want to spoil the ending for you, but the next two chapters are kind of the followup to it. This takes place the next day, Feb. 15. Anyway, enjoy :)

To "Guest": Wow, thanks, that's probably one of the nicest reviews I've ever gotten! :)


One Turbo-Tastic Day at a Time

Turbo was giving me the kind of look that you give when you think someone's done or said something really stupid and you just want to slap them in the face for it.

"I already know how to drive, why do I need to take a class for it?"

See, Turbo's always wanting to drive since that's pretty much one of the only things he was literally created to do (the other is being a villain, but we already knew that). I had agreed to let him get a driver's license since he now had his own money to get his very own car. Thing is, the DMV doesn't just hand those out like candy mints. He had his own official documentation that stated he was in fact a real person and not entirely fictional as I thought he was; he showed me what appeared to be a legit Disney birth certificate and what not. I don't know why he didn't make that known to me before we went to the hospital and lied on official paperwork, but...never mind. The only thing he had to do was pass driving school and the tests at the DMV and he'd be set.

"That's just how things are in the real world," I tried to explain to him. "You want to live here, you gotta live by the rules. Sorry."

I could tell he wasn't happy about having to go to school. To be honest, I wasn't entirely thrilled myself. It was two days a week, six hours a day. You have to have thirty-six hours of school so that meant it was a six day program...meaning three weeks. And I think we all know who was going to chauffeur him to class, don't we?

He huffed and crossed his arms. "I could drive circles around everyone there. I'm the best."

I couldn't help but crack a grin at his confidence level. Sometimes I wish I was like that.

"I know that, but you still have to do it. You want a driver's license, don't you?"

He looked off to the side and blew out a frustrated breath of air. "I still think it's stupid."

That means he'll do it but he doesn't agree with it. Now I just hope the driving instructor or any of the other people in the class don't freak out when they see him.


Unbelievable. Just unbelievable.

Turns out that Driving Instructor loves Wreck-It Ralph almost as much as I do...okay, maybe more than me. When he saw Turbo, I thought he was going to go into a spasm of fanboy joy. It was kind of embarrassing, at least from my viewpoint. His royal majesty, however, eats up any attention he can get and was grinning ear to ear hearing this moron blab about how he thought he was the best villain ever. I just stood back and hid my face in my hand, shaking it in disbelief. Everywhere we go, we either run into people that love him, hate him, or have no clue who he is. I'm not sure which I'd rather run into the most.

Oh and you guys remember Newman from "Seinfeld"? That's who Driving Instructor reminds me of. No, seriously.

"Oh man-o-man, I can't believe I'm actually talking to you right now, this is great, and you're the real thing, not some psycho in a costume, wow whoever guessed Disney World was a real place, this is the best day ever!"

So on and so forth. I don't think he took a breath the whole time he rambled, it was all one giant run-on sentence that needed to be punctuated by a pause for breath. I personally had enough of this worship session and decided I'd better inject some reality into the situation. I stepped in between his highness and his new loyal subject and put a finger up against "Newman's" chest to poke him back a bit.

"Yeah, yeah, we know all that," I said dryly. "Mr. Best Villain Ever here needs to take your driving school."

It was as if he had just seen me for the first time since our arrival and he blinked a few times when he saw me suddenly materialize between him and his new crush.

"Oh yeah, that's right, I guess that is why you'd be here," replied "Newman" as he adjusted his over-sized glasses on his face. "But why the heck do you need driving lessons, you're the best racer ever!"

Why am I always surrounded by idiots with no common sense?

"Blondie said that was the law," Turbo piped up, pushing me out from in front of him.

"It is," I insisted, giving him a glare for pushing me. "I didn't make it up just to make things difficult."

Our boy "Newman" was looking like a toddler trying not to pee in his big-boy drawers. "Oh you don't have to go through three weeks of this crap," he was offering. "I already know you know how to drive."

My jaw dropped at this insanely gracious offer, mostly because it was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard. Why the heck should Turbo get special treatment when the rest of us have to take this stupid course? Discrimination, I say! Just because he's famous or whatever shouldn't mean anything. I bet those NASCAR racers have to go get their licenses renewed every four years just like everyone else.

Of course, Turbo was going to accept this. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he reached over to pat "Newman" on the shoulder and gave him his trademark "Turbo-tastic!" as a response...complete with a thumbs up. Holy mackerel, I thought "Newman" was going to go into a coma with all this excitement.

"If it's not too much trouble, can we go for a drive anyway?" asked the elated fanboy.


I'm going to die.

What was I thinking getting into a vehicle with a professional racer and him having full permission by the car's owner to go as hog crazy as he wants? I was in the back sitting in the middle clutching for dear life to the seat, my fingers digging into the cushion. Last night, I had let Turbo drive my car to Wal-Mart and he'd thankfully gone the thirty-five mph speed limit, but we were out in the middle of nowhere and he was loving every second of it.

I mean, dear Lord, we had to be going over 100 mph! And this was in a Ford Focus with a "Driver's Ed." sign slapped to it, not a sports car mind you. Every time Turbo did a hard curve, jumped over a construction site ramp, or did donuts, I thought I was going to puke. Puke and die. I might have screamed a few times when I thought we were going to spin out over a bridge "Dukes of Hazzard" style. Of course ol' "Newman" was loving it as much as I was freaking out over it.

"Faster, woohoo!"

If I wasn't too afraid to let go of the seat, I would've clobbered him. "Slow down!"

Turbo threw a smug look in the rear-view mirror at me. "What's wrong, blondie, don't trust my driving? I am a professional, you know."

With that, we endured another round of donuts and I forced my eyes shut and began reciting what I could remember of the Lord's Prayer in my head. I swear, I think he's trying to scare me into a heart attack! I wasn't sure how much more of this thrill-seeking behavior I could put up with.

"This is the best day of my life!" I heard "Newman" laughing and I seriously felt like digging my nails into his stupid face and ripping his tongue out so he'd shut up.

"Please, God, just let me live so I can have better days," I mentally prayed as we headed towards another ramp to fly off of.

We went flying through the air and I peeked my eyes open out of curiosity. Bad idea! Seeing tree tops out the window and then the ground zooming towards us as we headed down was not what I wanted to see, so I shut them again just in time to feel the car land roughly on the ground. We peeled out of the the area, spinning wildly in a 180 degree half-circle and zoomed off again.

This insanity only lasted thirty minutes, if you can believe that. As soon as the speed demon parked the car in front of the driving school, I ripped my seat belt off and flung myself to the door. I ended up tripping and falling on the ground in my hurry, catching myself with my hands and knees in the dirt. Oh, dirt, glorious dirt! Boring, brown dirt that doesn't do anything but lay there and not move. My head was spinning from the rush I'd just been exposed to.

"Silly girl, what are you doing down there?" Turbo asked me after he removed himself from the car as well.

"Reacquainting myself with stable ground."

"I scared you that bad?"

"No, I was just screaming earlier to exercise my lungs and vocal cords."

I felt a pair of arms start pulling me back up to my feet and Turbo gave me an amused grin. Yeah, it was so funny that I could've died of a heart attack thanks to his insane driving.

"You need to learn to relax, blondie," he said, giving me a light playful "punch" in the jaw. "You're gonna die from the added stress you put on yourself."

"The reason I have 'added stress' is because of you!"

That's when our good friend "Newman" decided to throw his two cents in. "Gee, I figured since you were his girlfriend and all, you'd be used to this!"

My already high blood pressure raised even more hearing that and I shot daggers at "Speed Racer Wanna-Be" in front of me when he turned his head to try hiding a smirk from me, which of course didn't work. I'm going to strangle both of them. Why are men so difficult to deal with?!


After another hour, "Newman" of course made it to where Turbo "passed" driving school with false paperwork and all that mumbo-jumbo. Seriously, if he'd been anyone else, he would've ended up in jail by now. Actually, so would I, since I'm his "accomplice".

We got in my car, with me driving, and we pulled away from the driving school. Turbo sat back in the passenger seat with a rather satisfied look on his face.

"You realize you cheated your way out of class, right? That's kinda illegal."

He stretched out to put his hands behind his head, eyes closed to rest. "I'm a villain, being illegal comes naturally to me."

I rolled my eyes for a moment then returned to focusing on driving. "The only reason you were even able to get away with it is because we happened to go to the one driving instructor that has an insane man-crush on you."

He gave a little laugh. "You're funny."

"I'm not kidding, he was practically drooling all over you."

He cut me a sideways glance and a sly grin appeared. "Good thing he thought I had a girlfriend then, isn't it?"

I slowly turned my head towards him with a piercing look of evil reflecting in my eyes.

"What?" he shrugged casually. "I didn't say you were. I'm just sayin', good thing he thought my car door didn't swing the way he wanted it to."

I heaved an aggravated sigh and looked back at the road. "Pfft, half your fanbase thinks it does," I muttered quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He'd have a heart attack if he knew people thought "King Candy's" flamboyant Mad Hatter-ish nature was perceived as something else entirely. I personally didn't see it that way, but hey I'm not everyone else. He already read a few fanfictions (not mine, thank goodness) and saw some fanart when he was Google-ing himself (I know, conceited, right?) and had a freakin' hay-day when he saw that people thought he liked the color salmon and that he was shorter than his two former co-racers, the nameless twins. And no, he doesn't know their names either since they don't even really exist. Needless to say, I don't let him Google himself anymore because I got sick of hearing the complaints.

I cleared my throat. "Maybe you should read that little book he gave you about all the traffic signs and rules, so you'll be prepped for the written test. You can't tell me that you know all that stuff."

He kinda flipped through the official driver's rulebook that was given to him (for free, of course). "Done."

"You didn't even read it!"

"I read fast."

"Only a computer reads that fast."

"Well, I'm kind of a computerized game character, does that count?"

Can't argue with that.


Will Turbo pass his test for a driver's license? Will he ever get his own car? (He wants something fast and sporty and red.)