Lightning Mcqueen burst into Flo's Cafe in the same manner a bullet flies out a gun, Loud and obnoxious.
"Guys! Guys!" He shouted, causing everyone to stare at him, "I've got some big news!"
"Fuck. I'm gonna need a few stiff drinks," moaned the Sheriff.
"I got a note from Chick this morning! He wants to race me at Motoropolis in two days!"
Filmore spat into his drink.
"Motoropolis?" Ramone asked curiously, angling his frame with his built-in hydraulics, "Isn't that a place of crime?"
Mcqueen ignored that comment, "Oh, this is incredible! I'll be going door to door against my biggest rival!"
"Eh, don't you race against him every weekend?" Asked Sarge, who didn't really pay attention to motorsports.
"Yeah, but this is different. It's more...personal," Mcqueen closed his eyes, trying to picture it in his head.
Ramone grimaced, "Bruh…"
The Cafe was quiet for a few moments.
Finally, Flo asked, "You gonna get somethin' to drink, Hun? Or was that all you had to say?"
Mcqueen faltered, engine suddenly stalled, "Oh…err, I'm not thirsty."
"Then please go," Flo sighed.
It took a few seconds for Mcqueen to register that people had stopped looking at him. Then he left the building.
"Motoropolis, huh?" Ramone asked Sarge after Mcqueen left.
"Apparently so," Sarge replied.
"Y'know, I used to know a guy who lived there once," Said Ramone, "He hated that place. Too much crime. Ah, well that was 20 years ago. Times change."
"Times change, but some people don't change with them," Sarge muttered darkly, "I wonder just what Mcqueen has gotten himself into,"
"Damn kid's is gunna get himself killed one of these dayss," Sheriff slurred.
"I would think not," said Luigi, "He's my prized numero uno customer!"
The townsfolk didn't know it yet, but they had every right to be worried.
