Chapter Text
“This is Toronto: the capital of North America.” The camera opened on a wide shot of the city in question, an overcast sky and crystal blue waters framing a familiar skyline. “Birthplace of funk, where the albino panther roams free.”
“Beneath my manly sized thirteen brogues, nineteen teams are arriving at this historic train station ready to embark on a race around the world!” A well dressed man was revealed to be narrating as the camera zoomed out to reveal Toronto’s Union Station, the city bustling beneath him. “I’m your host, Don. And this is…”
The camera rapidly zoomed back in as he flashed a winning smile to the audience.
“The Ridonculous Race!”
*Intro Plays*
“Welcome to the Ridonculous Race,” Don began as the camera slowly zoomed back onto its focal point: the grand façade of the train station. “Right now, nineteen teams from across the world are readying themselves to embark on a race to the death!”
A sudden burst of static and sonic feedback overwhelmed the ambient noise of the city as the Host cringed, his hand flying to an earpiece.
“... not to the death? Okay then. Let’s meet the teams that aren’t racing to the death.”
The camera flashed to the interior of a train car where a well dressed, young, preppy looking couple sat side-by-side. The man was engrossed in a magazine, while the woman watched him longingly with a low blush.
“Carrie and Devin: Best Friends!” The Host introduced as Devin finally looked up from his magazine, Carrie averting her gaze as she seemingly willed her blush away.
Confessional (Best Friends):
“I met Devin in the sandbox and we haven’t spent a day apart since!” Carrie explained matter-of-factly as she gestured towards her partner who sat opposite her, a map of the world serving as their backdrop. “If anyone can win this race, it’s us!”
“Yeah! I know Carrie so well,” Devin continued on with a chuckle as Carrie leaned forward on her seat, clearly off in a daze as she looked longingly at her best friend again. “It’s like we’re– what’re you doing?”
“Hm?” Carrie immediately broke out of her daze as Devin blinked at her, utterly confused. “Oh, lint check! For the camera…!”
She proceeded to grab a piece of lint off the sleeve of Devin’s shirt and toss it away as she looked desperately towards the camera for an escape from the awkwardness of her stupor.
“Whoo! Race…!”
Devin just blinked again, looking back towards the camera, his confusion unabated.
“Kelly and Taylor: Mom and Daughter.” The Host introduced as the camera moved back a row, revealing a well-dressed pair of women, both applying makeup. Kelly checked her complexion while doing her lipstick, while Taylor wore an impatient frown and filed her nails.
Confessional (Mother Daughter):
“So A, I’m really hot– obviously.” Taylor explained as she gestured lazily with her nail file. “And B, I’m pretty much the best at everything I do. So unless my mom messes things up, we’re totally gonna win this race.”
“Taylor and her friends love when I hang with them- I’m known as the 'cool mom!'” Kelly remarked, seemingly attempting to keep her tone casual, but her enthusiasm was obvious as she fought to hide a smile through heavily botoxed cheeks. “We’re so tight, people always mistake us for sisters!”
“Wait, what?”
“Emma and Kitty: actual sisters.” The Host drawled as the camera moved again to another team, a teenage girl snapping photos with a pink cellphone from various angles before the camera panned over to the space in front of her where an older looking girl busied herself with the overhead compartment and their luggage. She scowled down at her sister before swooping down and snatching her phone away.
Confessional (Sisters):
“I’m studying international law, so that’s gonna give us a real edge.” Emma explained in a cocky fashion, her posture straight and both hands poised sharply on her hips. “Which is good, because… we’re here to win!”
“And to see the world!” Kitty tacked on casually. “Meet some hot guys, and have some fun,”
“If there’s time for that, which there won’t be, so let’s focus on winning, okay?” Kitty rolled her eyes with a groan, her enthusiasm dampened. Emma nodded approvingly. “... Good!”
“Crimson and Ennui: two exceptionally pale teens.” Don explained as the camera slowly panned up to reveal a couple sitting motionless in their seats, their heavily painted faces and dark clothes clear indications of their style as The Goths. As if for effect, a sudden change in camera angle revealed their faces with a flash of lightning, an odd mechanical screeching coming from somewhere on the train like something out of a horror movie. “... okay that’s just unnerving. Moving on…!”
The camera quickly refocused on the next pair, a morbidly obese young man and a scrawny, wiry young man who was easily dwarfed in size by his companion as he looked bored out the train window.
“Owen and Noah: seasoned Reality TV Pros!”
“Yeah! Whoo!” The fatter man chuckled excitedly at their introduction and threw up a hand for a high five. The smaller man sat up slightly in his seat and glared at the seat ahead of him, aggressively unamused. “... don’t leave me hanging!”
Confessional (Reality TV Pros):
“Noah and I met on Total Drama,” Owen explained with clear joy as his companion’s gaze flickered towards the camera with an unimpressed frown. “And since then, we’ve been on tons of reality shows! Like Meltdown Kitchen, and… Scare Tractor, and… Fashionista Flip Flop,”
“Yeah,” Noah quipped, his sarcasm clear. “Don’t know how you got on that one.”
“Awww, I’m just so psyched to be reunited with my little buddy! C’mere!” Owen immediately pulled Noah in, the smaller man utterly crushed and making an ungodly sound as several vertebrae popped loudly in the deathgrip of a hug.
“Mickey and Jay: identical twins who are used to overcoming adversity.” The Host continued as the camera focused in on The Adversity Twins, only for a pile of luggage to spring loose from the overhead compartment and bury them both completely.
Confessional (Adversity Twins):
“We’ve both been through a lot, but… we’re not cursed!” Mickey quickly covered with an awkward chuckle as sad violin music suddenly started playing from somewhere offscreen. “Just… whatever’s before cursed: that’s us!”
“Like, when I was six, I fell into a burrowing owl’s nest, and one of the baby owls flew into my ear.” Jay explained as he pointed to his right ear, his pupils shrinking with fear as his eyes glazed over, lost in the trauma of his memories. “To this day, everything on that side sounds like hoo, hoo, hoo,”
Mickey mustered up a confident smile as Jay narrowed his eyes at his twin, seemingly confused. “We’re constantly fighting adversity, and… overcoming it!”
“Sorry, we’ve gotta switch sides: you’re just like… hoo, hoo.”
“The totally in love Daters– Stephanie and Ryan!” Don introduced as a couple came into frame, the man leaning over the woman’s shoulder as she peered excitedly out the train window. Both shared a tender look with one another, the adoration in their eyes clear.
Confessional (Daters):
“Stephanie and I met at the gym two months and six days ago, and we’ve been going steady ever since!” Ryan exclaimed, his voice hitching with a gleam in his eye as he looked down at his partner, his massive frame still dwarfing his girlfriend, despite being hunched over slightly.
“We’re so excited!” Stephanie pumped both fists in the air. “Neither of us have ever traveled before– there’s so much to discover, like… what do chocolate protein bars taste like in China?”
“I was just wondering that!” Ryan cheered.
“No way,” Stephanie scoffed, amazed.
The pair immediately started loudly making out, Ryan’s seat empty as he kissed his girlfriend, his back facing the camera.
The train pulled into platform four of Union Station, the doors hissing open as a pair of leotarded athletes gracefully leapt from the doors and stuck the landing, blowing kisses and waving to an imaginary audience on the otherwise empty platform.
“Josee and Jacques: Ice Dancers.” Don explained as they continued to wave, alternating directions of their showy waves with wide, toothy smiles.
Confessional (Ice Dancers):
“We know how to win.” Jacques exclaimed with no small amount of confidence. “We’ve won gold everywhere!”
“Except the Olympics.” Josee tacked on in an even tone, her hands poised on her hips. “He dropped me so we only got silver.”
Jacques immediately shot to his feet, his eyes welling up with tears. “Gah! I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Jacques!” Josee called, seemingly miffed as he dashed offscreen, leaving her sitting alone in the confessional before she turned back to the camera and resumed a wide, practiced smile. “... silver is his least favorite color.”
“Diego and Logan… Otters?” Don paused as a tall, tanned man disembarked from the train after the Ice Dancers pranced away, a red headed man in a varsity jacket rushing onscreen and crushing him in a tight hug. The two men gazed deeply at each other, eyes gleaming with joy with wide smiles, clearly a pair. “Huh. Alright then.”
Confessional (Otters):
“The whole otter thing is just an inside joke between me and Diegs– if you know, you know.” Logan shrugged with an easy smile. “After Disventure Camp, I wasn’t really sure if another reality show was a good idea, but as soon as I heard about this one it seemed like a perfect fit for us: why pass up a chance like this, right?”
“Right you are, parcero. Aye, coming all the way from Colombia for a free trip around the world, and all with you by my side,” Diego fawned with an adoring sigh. “I couldn’t have dreamed of a better adventure!”
“Plus, there’s no voting or solo eliminations on this show.” Logan reasoned as he counted off on two fingers, pleased. “We’ll be working together as a team, as partners, all the way to the end: and that’s just the way we like it, so this’ll be great! Besides, there’s already a team on this show called the Daters: we kinda didn’t wanna steal their thunder.”
“I’m certain regardless, we will.” Diego asserted as he leaned forward, wiggling his eyebrows and flashing Logan a cheesy, flirtatious smirk.
“Gah, you big heartthrob!” The other man immediately blushed bright red as he playfully shoved him away.
Then a moment passed as Logan’s embarrassment seemed to soften and Diego’s smile grew sincere, both looking at each other with clear fondness. Finally, Logan leaned forward and touched his knee.
“I missed you.” He said. “A lot.”
Diego placed his own hand on top of his boyfriends, giving it a tender squeeze.
“And I you, corazón.”
“Geoff and Brody: lifelong friends and surfer dudes.” The camera focused on the next pair to disembark from the train, two laidback guys who appeared to be dressed more for the beach than for a race around the world.
“Goin’ around the world on someone else’s dime– sweet!” Geoff joked as he flashed a shaka sign to the camera. “Hey Bridgette! Love ya babe!”
Confessional (Surfer Dudes):
“My girl and I did Total Drama, but she’s surfing her way around Australia right now, so boom!” Geoff burst from his seat and gestured to the guy sitting next to him. “Entree: my bud, Brody!”
“Yeah, guy! Bros forever!” Brody cheered and offered out a fistbump which Geoff took in stride. “G and B for the W-I-N!”
The front doors to Union Station opened, revealing the first ten teams as they filed out into the embrace of the city, a white line painted on the plaza just a stone’s throw away. Next to it stood their Host as he waved them over.
“Right this way teams: over here!” He beckoned them over as the camera panned away towards one of the remaining teams walking up to the train station, an older man and a young boy who looked to be about ten years old. “Also competing: Dwayne and Dwayne Junior– Father and Son!”
Confessional (Father Son):
Dwayne had one arm wrapped protectively around his son, who looked anything but pleased to be stuck in such close proximity to his father as he stared dead-eyed at the camera, the light inside him fading.
“Oh I spend a lot of time at the old office there, so this race is a perfect chance for Junior and I to squeeze in a lil father-son bonding time!” Dwayne explained as he scruffed Junior’s cheek affectionately with a proud little chuckle. “Right, buddo?”
“Uh… yeah, sure dad.” Junior looked around the confessional set, clearly disengaged. “Hey, are there any other kids my age in this thing?”
“Oh! Uh…”
“Sanders and MacArthur: ambitious police cadets.” Don narrated as the former belayed down the wall of a nearby building, and the latter busted through a window and nailed a perfect dismount before giving her partner a high five and sprinting down the sidewalk towards the station.
Confessional (Police Cadets):
“We’re tough as nails, and we’ll go to the extreme to win this thing.” MacArthur stated from her seat, hands on her hips and posture ramrod straight.
“Definitely!” Sanders nodded. “Just as long as we don’t break any international laws.”
“Eh, I’m okay with breaking a few.” MacArthur shrugged, maintaining eye-contact with the camera as her partner’s eyes shot open, bewildered.
“Lorenzo and Chet– new stepbrothers.” Don explained with a shiver as a pair of teenage boys rolled onto screen, in the midst of a fight as they completely ignored the camera to focus on fighting each other.
Confessional (Stepbrothers):
“My dad married his mom last year,” Lorenzo explained as he crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow threateningly at the boy across from him. “But we still hate each other, so they’re making us do this. Jerks.”
“Don’t call my mom a jerk, jerk!”
“Shut your word hole, jerk!”
The pair immediately erupted into another fight as Chet launched off his seat and tackled Lorenzo to the ground, the camera shaking as muffled growling and spitting could be heard offscreen.
“Also racing, Tom and Jen: highly attractive fashion bloggers with impeccable taste.” Don took back over as a pair of fashionably dressed young adults strutted along the sidewalk, owning their styles like runway models. “... I told you not to let the teams write their own cards.”
Confessional (Fashion Bloggers):
“Hey hey to all our followers out there– wish us luck!” Jen announced excitedly before settling into a relaxed posture, clearly in sync with her partner.
“I bet Jen we could win the race but I didn’t think she’d actually take me up on it!” Tom joked with an easy smile. Jen snapped her fingers, ridiculously confident.
“I put my mind to something and it happens.”
A pair of young guys dressed for a concert powerslid into frame, doing air guitar in broad daylight without a care in the world: “Rock and Spud: the Rockers.”
Confessional (Rockers):
“Spud wasn’t sure about doin’ this cause he’s not super fit, or good at much of anything, except y’know, rockin’ out!” Rock exclaimed with no small amount of admiration before diving into an impoverished air guitar riff. “So I said: you just rock, bud– I’ll carry you!”
Rock then got into another imaginary groove, rocking out for the camera as Spud bobbed his head enthusiastically along.
“Laurie and Miles: granola loving hippie-dippie friends!” Don introduced as the camera panned to the middle of a nearby street where two young women dressed like beatniks were standing idle, a butterfly on one of their fingers as oncoming traffic immediately ground to a halt with a chorus of car horns and cursing.
Confessional (Vegans):
“We want to win so we can donate to our favorite charities,” Laurie explained coolly as a cautious smile worked its way up her face. “Save the Hunchback Walrus, Goat Milk Eco-Warriors, People for the Ethical Treatment of Ants– so many great causes!”
A pair of smartly dressed young women disembarked from a bus stuck in the Vegan’s traffic snarl, walking leisurely to the train station as geeky sounding techno music accompanied their arrival into the competition: “Ellody and Mary: scientific geniuses who say they will use their winnings to support the science community.”
Confessional (Geniuses):
“Astrophysics is underfunded. Reality shows offer monetary prizes.” Ellody explained matter-of-factly with a cheeky little smile as she brushed away the problem, her partner nodding along in agreement. “Conundrum solved!”
As the Geniuses strolled along, a taxi dropped off the next team, a pair of oddly dressed teens who seemed out of place in their wizards robe and viking cosplay, the only clue they were people of the present being the massive slushies they finished as they disembarked and the taxi sped away.
“Leonard and Tammy: Live Action Role Players.” Don explained away as the pair gave each other an odd looking fistbump and continued to nurse their drinks, the straw sound effects loudly cutting into the audio feedback of the camera. “... whatever that is.”
Confessional (LARPers):
“Pahkitew Island was tough.” Leonard explained before gesturing emphatically towards his companion. “But with Tammy’s new spells? Huzzah! We’ll claim the Dragon’s Eye– that’s Dwarvish for one million.”
Tammy pulled out an ocarina to serenade the camera. She managed only a few breathy notes before–
“And, Gerry and Pete: retired pro tennis players and friendly rivals.” Don finished his spiel as the last team walked casually up to the train station: two geriatric men decked out in tennis uniforms.
Confessional (Tennis Rivals):
“We’re both very competitive.” Gerry asserted with a pointed look at his rival. “... but for half a mil each? Game on!”
The pair dissolved into cackling, Pete composing himself first: “Maybe we’ll get some new sponsorships: anyone need a pitch-man for seniors laxatives?”
“Call his agent.” Both men asserted as they hiked thumbs towards each other before erupting into another fit of cackling at their in-sync comedic timing.
“Welcome contestants!” Don exclaimed from his place just before the white line as he drew his foot along it for emphasis. “This is the starting line for your twenty six part race around the world! Each part ends at a Chill Zone. Get there fast, because the last team to stand on the Carpet of Completion, may be cut from the competition.”
The contestants all paled a bit, the threat of elimination left hanging awkwardly in the air.
“But the first team to reach our last chill zone will win One. Million. Dollars!” The atmosphere immediately seemed to lighten as a couple of excited cheers broke through the crowd of contestants, only for the camera to sharply pan away towards an ugly looking box that was constructed to resemble the host of the show, a massive red button at the crown of his head.
“Look over here.” Don gestured towards the hideous box. “This, is our Ridonculous Tip Box– also known as the Don Box. Press this button to get the travel tips that will lead you through the Ridonculous Race. Ready teams? On your mark, get set…!”
The contestants all reared back ready for the race. The camera split between the various profiles of the pairs, some clearly more engaged than others.
“Race!”
The cast immediately stampeded past a horrified looking Don to get to the Don Box, leaving the Host a mess of frantic squealing as he was trampled underfoot by thirty eight contestants to get their first tip of the game. The first tip was ejected with a little bell from the Don Box’s mouth, a periwinkle blue ticket with black arrows and written instructions on one side.
“Race on foot to the CN Tower,” Geoff read aloud as the other teams scattered behind him, tips in hand.
“And find the Don Box to get your next tip.” Dwayne finished for him as he took his son by the hand and awkwardly sprinted down the street towards the landmark just a short jog away. Junior quickly took the lead as the Father Son duo overtook the Surfer Dudes in the footrace.
“C’mon, dad! There’s the tower!”
“And here’s the competition!” Jacques narrated as he and Josee rapidly gained on them, arms outstretched gloriously as they gave wide, winning smiles to the camera following the competitors.
Dwayne, confused by their sudden appearance, immediately ran into a garbage can, but miraculously scrambled his way out of the fall, leaving the can to soar through the air until it landed square on top of the Ice Dancers. The Surfer Dudes immediately slowed their roll.
“Oops! Sorry about that, my bad!” Dwayne quickly excused as Junior yanked him along towards the tower.
“Woah, nasty! Are you guys okay?”
The Surfer Dudes skidded to stop just before the Ice Dancers, only for them to immediately and gracefully catapult the overturned can up into the air and prance away. The Surfer Dudes’ concern immediately melted into a pleased laugh as they watched the can’s airtime and the Ice Dancers leapt offscreen to continue in the race.
“Woah, rad!” Geoff exclaimed as he and Brody started to high tail it after the Ice Dancers, only for the can to sail down and trap them both inside instead. They froze for a moment, only for the Cadets and Stepbrothers to gain on them. “Go…!”
The camera flashed ahead as the first several teams made their way to the front of the CN Tower, a Don Box poised just by the entrance. Father and Son reached it first, Dwayne panting heavily as Junior smashed the button and got their next tip.
“It’s an… Either Or… Stairs or Scares.” Junior read aloud as the Ice Dancers gracefully entered the frame in one fell swoop and obtained their next tip. “What’s an Either Or?”
The Surfer Dudes immediately charged into a nearby lampost, still hindered by the garbage can as the first and second teams watched their competition, equally stupified.
“An Either Or gives teams the choice of two challenges.” Don explained to the audience from inside the lobby, holding up two fingers for emphasis. “In this case, they either climb one hundred and forty four flights of stairs to reach the world’s tallest observation deck– that’s just under a billion stairs,”
The camera panned up an impossibly steep cavern of stairs before opening on a bright and sunny looking observation deck, where the Host easily strolled past the emergency exit door leading to the stairway towards two elevators, only one of which was working. “Or Scares: take the elevator, then get the scare of a lifetime by doing a skywalk all the way around the outside of the tower!”
The camera flashed to reveal Don on the exterior of the tower, Lake Ontario and the skyline visible behind him as the harsh winds buffeted his hair. “Not to worry though: they’ll be wearing helmets! And as an extra precaution, we had a safety rail installed!”
The safety rail immediately gave a massive groan before one side gave way in the impossibly strong winds, tilting to one side of the tower, askance like a poorly aimed ring at a ring toss booth.
Don gestured to a bored looking teenager who laid idle on one of the observation deck’s couches, his themed hat marking him as an employee of the CN Tower. He yawned, clearly disengaged with the task at hand. “Teams must finish either task, and find this local guide to receive their next tip.”
Meanwhile on the ground, the Stepbrothers groaned in effort as they fought over the tip between them, the Cadets looking over their own tip as Sanders pondered their options.
“A hundred and forty four flights of stairs? Yeah, we’ll do Scares.” She brushed it off and dashed towards the entrance, MacArthur trailing behind as the middling teams finally reached the Don Box.
“Scares.” Tom concluded as Jen nodded in agreement.
Chet immediately seemed to realize the futility of the fight and let go of the tip, sending Lorenzo flying backwards offscreen with their tip in hand. “Scares! Called it!”
In sharp contrast, the Adversity Twins each held one side of their tip, Mickey flashing a hopeful smile at Jay.
“Stairs?” He proposed.
“Stairs.” Logan gave an affirming nod to a nervous looking Diego as he looked petrified up at the massive tower before them. “C’mon, Diegs!”
Confessional (Adversity Twins):
“Mickey gets nosebleeds when he goes up too high, too fast.” Jay explained simply as a familiar sad violin accompanied their confessional. “Makes it pretty tough to take flights, or, y’know, go up really tall towers.”
He then took the tip from his brother, who winced with a sharp cry.
“Gah! Papercut!”
Confessional (Otters):
“As a tour guide, natural scares I can do.” Diego explained as he tapped his fingers together, clearly ashamed. “Manmade? Not so much.”
“No sweat Diegs, this’ll be a snap!” Logan patted him comfortingly on the shoulder as Diego’s shame immediately seemed to melt away with a gentle sigh. He sized his companion up with a ravenous smirk.
“At least I’ll have an excellent view on the journey.”
Logan snorted and flashed him a finger gun with a wink.
“Right back atcha, babe!”
The elevator doors opened on the Father Son duo as Dwayne cheered and rushed into the car.
“First in, alright!” He held up his hand for a high five. “Way to go Junior! Gimme a high five…!”
Junior ducked out of the way, sending his father careening towards the button panel as his palm accidentally slid down the panel, pressing every single button between the ground and top floors. The pair watched, slightly disturbed, as the panel seemed to short circuit as it processed the sudden overload of information.
“... oops!”
Confessional (Father Son):
“Y’know for a skinny tower there sure are a lot of floors!” He cheekily excused as Junior rolled his eyes.
The Father Son duo immediately booked it out of the elevator towards the stairs, Dwayne whistling nonchalantly as the elevator awaited the crowd of teams rushing towards its open doors.
The Surfer Dudes, the Ice Dancers, the Stepbrothers, the Cadets, and the Fashion Bloggers all crammed into the elevator, only for Geoff’s eyes to shoot open with confusion.
“Hey!” He gestured to the panel as an errant spark shot out and everyone immediately froze in horror as they looked at the fully illuminated panel. “Who pushed all the buttons?”
“Gotta take the stairs!” MacArthur immediately declared as she dashed out of the elevator, the other teams following her lead as Sanders stood back, clearly doubtful.
“Or we could just wait?”
“Hustle!” MacArthur ordered as she adjusted the brim of her cap and booked it into the stairwell. Sanders groaned, annoyed, before dashing after her, leaving the Fashion Bloggers as the sole team on the slowed elevator.
“Meh, this’ll probably still be faster.” Jen reasoned with a shrug as Tom nodded in agreement, the doors shutting and committing them to the Scare.
“If anyone asks, we chose stairs.” Dwayne reminded as Junior passed him by, easily overtaking his father, the Otters rapidly gaining on them as the Twins lagged behind. “It was always stairs!”
“While Father and Son, the Otters, and the Adversity Twins commit to climbing the unconscionable number of stairs,” Don’s voice could be heard narrating as the camera rapidly panned down to reveal the lobby where the remaining teams huddled by the one working elevator, waiting. “More teams choose Scares, but they’re in for a long wait.”
The camera briefly scrolled by them, the LARPers, Goths, Sisters, Geniuses, Tennis Rivals, Rockers, Vegans, Reality TV Pros, and Best Friends each standing patiently in a circle as they waited for the elevator to return to the ground.
The camera quickly flashed to the interior of the elevator, only occupied by the Fashion Bloggers as they immediately located the camera which was duct-taped to an interior wall of the vehicle and began narrating.
“Hey hey fashion blog followers!” Jen greeted their audience with an ease only a regular internet celebrity could match. “Jen and Tom here with the latest fashion scoop: we would like to talk about today’s fashion faux pas, which is–”
“Overalls.” Tom grimaced as the doors behind them suddenly opened at a floor halfway up the tower, revealing a custodian dressed in the telltale garment. “Ugh, nasty!”
“I know, right?” Jen asserted as Tom nodded along in clear smug agreement. “Like get with today.”
The camera flashed ahead as the Fashion Bloggers disembarked at their destination floor with ugly scowls on their faces, Tom wearing a mop and Jen lifting an overturned suds bucket off her head with a disgusted noise before tossing it away.
Then, they paused, looking around the observation deck.
“Huh. I don’t see any other teams…” Jen’s scowl immediately vanished as an excited squeal tore free. “We’re in first place!”
“Let’s hit the skywalk and strut all the way to the winner’s circle!” Tom suggested with dramatic flair as he gave his best imitation of a sexy model walk as the pair strolled easily over to the catwalk door.
“We are so the team to beat!” Jen sassily agreed as the guide rolled his eyes and pulled open the door to the catwalk.
The confidence on both their faces instantly shattered as they laid eyes on the catwalk, a few steps out of the tower with a nearly one hundred story drop beneath them.
“We have to walk… out here?!” Jen gaped as she suddenly clung onto Tom for dear life.
“Oh yes, you do.” Don’s voice could be heard as the camera zoomed out to reveal the tower, lonely in the sky as the winds howled around the contestants poised at the edge of certain death. “The Ridonculous Race will return after these messages.”
*Commercial Break Plays*
The camera opened the lobby as Mom and Daughter finally reached the crowd of teams at the tower’s elevator, Taylor groaning in annoyance at the jumbled mess of people ahead of them.
“Great! Thanks for being slow– now we’re in a race for last place.” She moaned dramatically before shooting a scathing glare Kelly’s way. “When we get home, hire yourself a personal trainer.”
Kelly waffled for a moment, halfway between exhaustion and bafflement. “... great idea sweetie!”
“I know, that’s why I thought of it.” Taylor rolled her eyes, annoyed.
The camera cut back to the stairwell as the Surfer Dudes, Daters, and Ice Dancers rushed up the gangway.
“Those who abandoned the elevator are in for a painful climb.” Don’s voice narrated as the Stepbrothers climbed into frame, engaged in a petty slapfight as the Adversity Twins staggered exhausted up the last step of another leg, utterly broken by the task they’d burdened themselves with. “And frankly, that’ll be more fun to watch!”
“On the upside, we’re definitely not in last place!” Mickey managed with a smile, only for the Otters to brush past them.
“Sorry guys, Otters comin’ through!” Logan charged up the stairs.
“Watch yourselves, chinos– vamos!” Diego flashed a quick wave over his shoulder as he high tailed it after his boyfriend.
“On the downside, that probably won’t be true for long...” Mickey deadpanned as they watched the Otters easily scale the next flight of steps in no time flat, the other teams hot on their tracks as they cleared the flights beneath them.
The Surfer Dudes powered past the Adversity Twins on the stairwell, knocking them further back in the race as they jogged up the steps at a swift and easy pace.
“Sweet form, dudes!” Geoff commended as he passed them by. “Keep it up!”
“They seem nice,” Mickey remarked as he watched the Surfer Dudes quickly disappear up the stairwell.
“No alliances, remember?” Jay reminded in a firm tone.
Confessional (Adversity Twins):
“Jay doesn’t think we should form any alliances,” Mickey explained, the disappointment clear in his voice.
“You saw the Otters and Surfer guys pass us, Mickey. To the other teams, we’re soft meat.”
Mickey’s expression fell, seemingly recognizing his brother’s point. “Really soft meat…”
“No alliances– not if we can’t keep up with them, at least.” Jay reasoned with a one armed shrug. “We have to look out for each other first.”
Confessional (Otters):
“Good on those guys for holding the lead!” Logan nodded, a proud smile on his face. “Talk about underdogs. They’re really pulling through, eh?”
“Aye, and they’re just so adorable!” Diego gushed. “And the surfers seem wonderful as well. If the rest of our competition proves anywhere near as precious I might have a hard time beating them.”
Logan blew a raspberry in response.
“Aye, I said ‘might,’ guache!” He smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “Still, perhaps an alliance wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”
“Totally– let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, though. We don’t even know who’ll be left after today, but if someone else is holding the lead, why beat ‘em when we could join ‘em, right?”
“Right you are, corazón.”
Meanwhile, further up the stairwell, Sanders leaned helplessly over the railing of the gangway, clearly exhausted as she took a breather and panted for dear life.
“Gah, thighs on fire…!” She managed through gritted teeth. “So queasy,”
MacArthur immediately hopped up to meet her at her gangway and whisked her over her shoulder, spiriting her up with a determined growl.
“So you’re one of those skinny fat people who can’t climb ten flights of stairs without spewing chunks, eh?” She adjusted the brim of her cap, her aggression tempered with a biting laugh. “What do you do, yoga?”
A quick montage of the teams beneath them powering through the stairwell played back before flashing to the lobby of the tower, the elevator still on its descent from earlier.
“As most of the teams continue to climb, and wait…”
The camera lingered on Owen, who was chowing down on a can of beans. “And wait…”
The camera switched over to the Goths, who stood motionless with blank expressions as they blinked lucidly at the screen. “And wait some more… The Fashion Bloggers are first to reach the observation deck, but the Scare might be too much for them.”
The camera flashed up to the deck where Jen still clung to Tom like a wet cat, the wind blowing their hair dramatically as it rushed through the still open door. The guide held a box of helmets expectantly towards the pair, clearly not invested in their flight as they cowered in total fear.
“We can’t go out on that deathwalk!” Tom whined. “I am fashionably svelte– the wind’ll blow me away!”
“And with the return of the elevator,” Don picked back up as a quick cut montage of teams rushing into the elevator and jamming the close door button played back, the Best Friends, Goths, Sisters, Tennis Rivals, Geniuses and Vegans all cramming inside. “The competition is heating up!”
Taylor wobbled in place, indigent in her spot next to the elevator from where the other teams had cut her and her mother off immediately. “Rude!”
“Wow, nice robes!” Owen marveled as Leonard rose up from lotus pose, the fabric of his green wizard’s robes billowing in an artificial breeze as the elevator doors wooshed shut.
“Oh! It has cloaking powers. Observe!” He commanded in a squeaky voice as Owen watched, eager. “Disappearicus, Convincicus!”
A moment passed as he raised an arm up to shield his face, his gaze narrowing tauntingly at Owen.
“... can’t see me anymore, can ya?”
“Uh… I’m gonna go over there.”
The camera flashed back to the top of the observation tower, where the guide held out the box of safety helmets to the Fashion Bloggers, who immediately recoiled with disgust as Tom peaked into the box and let out an indignant scoff.
“Helmets? Are you crazy? You want us to ruin our hair? No, I did not sign up for that.” He firmly refused as he turned his nose up at the box.
“Plus, aubergine really isn’t my color.” Jen insisted, the offense in her tone clear.
“It’s not– trust.”
The guide rolled his eyes and glanced back towards the elevator, almost pleadingly.
The footage cut back to the stairwell as the Otters passed the Father Son duo and spirited ahead into first place.
“Hi guys, bye guys!” Logan gave a little wave as they left Junior in the dust. “Dayum, Diegs, I think we’re in the lead! You doing okay?”
“Never better, mi vida.” He tipped his hat up at his partner. “I’ve climbed higher mountains in my sleep!”
“See you at the top!” Logan called down the stairwell. “Team Otter’s taking the gold!”
Confessional (Otters):
“Man am I glad you convinced me to switch out,” Logan remarked with clear relief as he lifted one leg and inspected his hiking boots. “Court shoes never would’ve cut it for a race like this.”
“The first rule of any tour: one must always come prepared.” Diego nodded matter-of-factly. “Of course it also helps when you’ve been bare climbing mountains since you were a little kid, or scaling a drop tower as a finalist…”
“Pft, against a chef and a nun, dude– never would’ve made it up there without you.”
“And yet you did.” Diego remarked with no small amount of pride as he gestured to the driving gloves Logan wore on his hands. “Though I am grateful you took heed of my advice, of course.”
“If you’re my guide?” He rolled his eyes with an easy smirk. “Easiest job in the world, dude.”
Surfer Dudes bypassed the Father Son duo next, Dwayne lagging behind exhausted as Junior powered ahead.
“Doin’ great bro! Our calves are gonna be like, so toned after this!” Geoff exclaimed, proud.
“Yeah, totally!” Brody echoed him from just beneath him. “We’re gonna look like Greek Gods from the knees down!”
Meanwhile, the Ice Dancers paused at the gangway in the otherwise empty stairwell, blowing kisses as triumphant music was funneled in from somewhere offscreen.
“Hello to all our fans!” Josee cheered as they waved to the audience, their smiles wide as ever. “We love you!”
“Put me down, I can do this!” Sanders argued as MacArthur barreled past the Ice Dancers, seemingly unaffected by the distance as she powered up the stairs like a raging machine.
“I begged to differ, chicken legs.” She blithely snarked as she easily cleared another flight.
Confessional (Cadets):
“It’s all in the glutes!” MacArthur explained matter-of-factly. “I only use the stair machine at the gym– I’m basically eighty percent glutes at this point. They’ve taken over the rest of my muscles. You see this?” She pointed to her bicep, flashing an expectant look at Sanders. “That’s glutes– all glutes.”
Sanders, wisely, said nothing in response.
“After an hour of stair climbing, some of our contestants are really losing it.” Don covered over footage of the Stepbrothers as they staggered up the stairs at a much slower pace.
“If we… come in last… it’s totally your fault… doofus!” Chet forced out between pants.
“Hurry up… and climb… faster…!” Lorenzo groused from behind him. “Slowpoke…!”
“Stop breathin’ on my back… sweatball!”
“Takes one to know one… sweatball!”
“Stay with me Mickey: eyes wide!” Jay ordered as his twin droned forward, slouched over, his skin cold and clammy as sweat poured down his face.
“It’s okay mommy, I don’t need a new elephant,” Mickey declared in a high pitched, warbling voice as his pupils twitched wildly, his eyes wide enough to pop out of his head.
“This is why we don’t visit a lot of skyscrapers.” Jay deadpanned to the camera before nudging his brother further up the stairs.
The camera flashed to the observation deck, the first full load of teams delivered swiftly to the top of the tower.
“There’s the skywalk, c’mon!” Devin dashed out of the elevator with Carrie in tow, snatching two helmets right out of the guide’s hands as they rushed past the obstinate Fashion Bloggers.
“Hold on!” Tom suddenly held up a hand to object as the other teams piled up by the guide, clearly eager to get the challenge started. “I need to make sure my helmet is disinfected before we do this.”
“Woah! Oh man,” Devin’s voice easily carried over the wind as he grabbed onto the door, Carrie right beside him. “Okay, turns out I can’t do this,”
“Okay, hang on homie,” Carrie nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “You’ve always wanted to conquer your fear of heights, right?”
“I’m not scared of heights, I’m scared of falling.” Devin explained as he looked paler by the minute, his gaze listing towards the harbor nearly one hundred stories below. “Pretty big difference!”
“Don’t worry, it’s a TV competition!” Carrie reassured as she leaned into his shoulder. “It’s gotta be safe!”
As if on cue, a bird landed on the awkwardly dangling safety rail, and the massive metal ring plunged off its perch, sailing down to the ground. Any sound of impact was lost to the wind as it quickly disappeared into the mess of the city below.
“... or not.” Carrie clung to Devin tighter as the Tennis Rivals brushed past them with a rush of snide cackling.
“Now we’re in the lead!” Gerry gloated as he rounded the corner and disappeared. “Way to snooze, chuckleheads!”
“You can do it!” Carrie suddenly grabbed Devin’s hands and took them in her own. “I believe in you!”
“That makes one of us!” Devin managed over the wind.
“C’mon!” Carrie moved to guide him along the edge. “I promise, just hold on tight to me, ‘kay homie? I won’t let go!”
And so she led the charge behind the Tennis Rivals as the Best Friends began their way around the tower’s edge, the wind whipping around them wildly as they all leaned into the heavy gusts to keep their balance.
“Oh! Make way for two more!” Owen called as the Reality TV Pros sprinted towards the waiting elevator, just enough space for their group alongside the LARPers, the Rockers, and Mom and Daughter. Noah dashed ahead as Taylor rolled her eyes and thumbed the close door button feverishly.
“Sorry, no room!”
But Owen managed to squeeze his way through the closing doors anyway, an ominous rumbling coming from somewhere as the elevator’s occupants looked around, disturbed.
“Ugh, this elevator sounds awful…”
Owen immediately looked mortified as his stomach visibly rumbled, and a noxious green cloud gradually enveloped the cramped elevator as the other contestants began to heave and gag. Noah, the shortest contestant of all, simply stared dead ahead, accepting his fate as the cloud of gas swallowed him and the screen whole.
The camera opened back on a wide shot of the observation deck’s exterior, the Tennis Rivals getting pushed back by the strong winds as the Best Friends gradually overtook them and held the lead.
“That’s it!” Carrie commended as she squeezed Devin’s hand. “Just keep putting one foot in front of the other– I’m so proud of you Devin!”
“I couldn’t do it without you, pal!”
She blushed before forcing herself to turn away, a sweet smile on her face as she continued to guide her best friend along the edge while he mumbled terrified under his breath, his eyes squeezed shut. Meanwhile, Emma was making excellent progress, solo.
“This is so cool!” A familiar voice called from just back behind her.
Emma scowled at her sister as Kitty braced herself right on the edge of the catwalk, her pigtails billowing in the wind as she leaned precariously close to the drop and snapped a picture with her phone.
“Focus!” Emma ordered as she instinctively braced herself against the wall of the observation deck and kept a firm grip on the edge. “This is life or death!”
“Oh come on, look at what we’re doing! It’s incredible!” Kitty exclaimed, utterly undeterred as she leaned into the wind, her joy practically infectious. “I feel so alive!”
“Yeah, make sure they put that quote on your gravestone.” Emma quipped as she grabbed her sister’s outstretched arm and yanked her back from the edge, pulling her along as the Sisters held onto third place.
Meanwhile, a procession of the other teams passed behind them: the Fashion Bloggers, aubergine helmets and all, staggered their way through the scare with Jen clinging to Tom for dear life as the wind whipped around them.
“Promise me you’ll never let go!” Jen cried from where her face was buried in Tom’s chest.
“Never!” Tom promised over the wind as he looked genuinely perturbed at the procession of teams behind them. “Can you believe people pay to do this?”
“We’re doing this for you, Mother Earth!” Laurie pleaded in a warbling voice as she cast both arms in front of her, Miles inching along in a similarly stiff pose behind her. “Don’t kill us!”
The camera cut back to the final ten flights of stairs as MacArthur booked it just ahead of the Otters, Sanders still slung over her back like a sack of potatoes. “Comin’ through, hopscotch! Cadets for the win!”
“Not for long!” Jacques warned as the Ice Dancers picked up speed below them, prancing right past the Otters as they leapt up another flight with grace.
“Bring it on!” Logan fired back as he charged ahead. “I didn’t get out of bed today for last!”
The camera cut to the observation deck, the elevator finally reaching it as the doors slid open and aired out the vehicle. The last four teams poured out in a fit of coughing and wheezing as they rushed away from the toxic gas, Owen awkwardly strolling through the chaos with a tight little smile as he followed after an irritated looking Noah.
“The last elevator has arrived.” Don narrated as the gas gradually cleared itself away. “But while those teams still have to take the dreaded skywalk, teams who took the stairs are literally leaping into the lead!”
As if for emphasis, the emergency door burst open as the Ice Dancers stuck the landing and balanced precariously on their tip-toes, leaning forward to snag their next tip as sweat poured from their pink spandex leotards.
“First place…!” Jacques exclaimed as his voice finally broke from exhaustion, his eyes bulging out of his head as he read the waiting tip. “Catch a flight with a zip, ride the line to your tip? Eh? C'est que ce?”
“So glad you asked: teams must take a flimsy zipline over Lake Ontario to this island airport, and snag their next tip along the way.” Don explained to the audience as he strolled next to the waiting lines which arched over the crystal blue waters of the lake. “The line was tested this morning by our intern, Andrew– condolences again to his family.”
The Ice Dancers slid gracefully onto screen twisted into an elaborate pose as Jacques hopped up and grabbed the T-Bar, Josee hanging off his side like a sequin encrusted Christmas ornament.
“Go Team Canada!” He cheered as Josee easily snagged the tip and they flew towards the island in the distance. “Yeah!”
The Best Friends and the Tennis Rivals booked it back into the tower, Pete doubling over as a loud popping sound came from somewhere within him and he cried in pain.
“My artificial knee just gave out!” He managed through the pain as he splayed out on his hands and took a knee, his other leg shriveled and lame beneath him as Gerry stopped and waited, almost expectant.
Confessional (Tennis Rivals):
“Agreeing to do this show was a great idea.” Pete insisted with a hopeful shrug. “We’ve been through way tougher battles than any of these kids! So what if they’ve got more zing, more athleticism, more ambition, more blind optimism, or…” His joy quickly faded as his eyes widened with a realization, and he looked petrified at the floor. “This show was a terrible idea.”
“Zipline? I’ve always wanted to do that!” Carrie exclaimed as she read off the next tip with clear enthusiasm.
“Zipline? I never wanted to do that!” Gerry exclaimed as his face paled with fright.
Meanwhile, the stairwell door swung open, revealing the Cadets. MacArthur has snagged second in the race, her partner still slung comfortably over her shoulder.
“Finally!” Sanders exclaimed, relieved, only for MacArthur to immediately drop her to the floor.
“Tell me about it– phew!” Logan wiped the sweat off his brow, but his smile was untarnished as he flashed a finger gun their way. “Y’know bronze is fine by me, but it really looks better on you two.”
“Nice one, hopscotch. Real nice. I got us silver, Sanders– now it’s your turn,” She turned her focus onto Sanders as the Otters dashed off to get their tip. “Carry me!”
“What?”
“Ha! I’m joking– you couldn’t carry a loaf of bread!” MacArthur strutted away with a cocky snort as Sanders picked herself up and dusted herself off. “If you were carrying me we’d be stuck with bronze for sure.”
Confessional (Cadets):
“You do realize third is perfectly acceptable?” Sanders indignantly accused with a half-lidded glare.
“Maybe for big boy blue and his sherpa.” Her partner rolled her eyes, annoyed. “Looks like a lot of teams are dealing with some dead weight– just goes to show it pays to carry the load when they can’t keep up.” MacArthur declared with an easy shrug as Sanders scoffed, indignant.
“Are you referring to me?”
MacArthur just held her smile and kept eye contact with the camera, letting her partner’s accusation stew in the damning silence that followed.
Meanwhile, at the base of the zipline, the Ice Dancers nailed the dismount as they bounced elegantly off the shoddy pile of used mattresses, and immediately resumed their tour of smiling and waving.
“Thank you, we love you!” Josee stage whispered to an imaginary audience before finally locking eyes with the television camera. “Merci!”
The camera panned right to reveal Don, whose eyes struggled in vain to follow the direction the Ice Dancers were waving. He blinked, utterly confused.
“Who– who are you waving to? There’s no one here.”
“Our fans!” Jacques and Josee immediately chirped as they narrowed their focus on the camera as it lobbed in for a closeup of their faces, cutting Don out of the equation entirely.
Confessional (Ice Dancers):
“Our fans give us the love and energy we need to perform under extreme pressure.” Josee explained magnanimously as she stared straight through the camera with such fervor she looked almost delusional. “Without them, my partner, Jacques, would never be able to overcome his many faults.”
“Um…” Josee’s smile tightened ever so slightly. “Why do you say ‘many’ like that?”
“You know why.”
Josee held up the tip for her partner to see, keeping a winning smile for the camera. He leaned over to read it aloud: “Book two seats on the next flight to Morocco.”
“There are three flights heading for Morocco, each leaving thirty minutes apart.” Don narrated as the Ice Dancers ran towards the airport, leaving him alone by the base of the zipline. “Teams who make it onto the first flight have the distinct advantage of arriving first. Teams on the last flight should probably question why they even entered this race, because… wow, really?”
Confessional (Reality TV Pros):
“Every reality tv show I’ve been on, I’ve lost.” Noah deadpanned, his usual sarcastic edge replaced with one of sheer bitterness. “This time, no excuses, no distractions. I’ve got my eye on the cheddar.”
“And to taste the food!” Owen tacked on with a bright and eager smile. Noah raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. “... winning! Woo!”
The Best Friends swooped past the tip on the zipline, Carrie snatching it from her place on Devin’s lap as he helmed the T-Bar and the pair rocketed towards the island in the distance.
“We did it!” Devin hollered, overjoyed. “You are the best!”
Carrie chuckled as she looked away, still hiding a blush.
Confessional (Best Friends):
“I had to do the race with Carrie.” Devin insisted as he counted off on one hand. “She’s smart, fast, determined,”
“Aw,” Carrie blushed, fawning modestly under the praise.
“And my girlfriend Shelly was busy.”
“Need a hand?” Gerry teased as Pete clung to him for dear life on the other end of the T-Bar before shoving him off with a cackle. Pete dropped like a stone and disappeared into the lake far below with a horrified scream. “That was for Whimbleton in ‘77!”
Gerry got a determined look in his eye as he snatched the passing tip with both hands, only for his momentum to abruptly slow to a stop. He hung in the air for a few awkward seconds before physics caught up with him and he joined his partner in the lake far below, the island airport still a decent swim away.
The camera flashed back to the top of the CN Tower as the final batch of contestants made their way out onto the skydeck, the Reality TV Pros in dead last.
“Woah, you need to put on a few pounds!” Owen remarked as Noah with his skinnier frame was quickly pulled along the edge of the tower like a sail, only for his eyes to shoot open as he grabbed his partner and was pulled along with him as the wind carried them right past the other pairs, everyone plastering themselves to the wall as the Pros glided past them with ease.
Owen’s quick reflexes kept a tight grip on Noah as he snagged the edge of the doorway, their scare nearly complete.
“Do not let go!” Noah shouted as Owen suddenly yanked him back in, bracing them both against the side of the doorway, safe and sound on the interior of the tower.
Confessional (Reality TV Pros):
Both appeared windswept, their eyes wide as diner plates and staring dead past the camera, their hair swooped to one side. Noah blinked, his face pale.
“Maybe doing this show wasn’t such a good idea.”
“... maybe?”
“First one to grab the tip gets the top bunk back at our dorm room.” MacArthur declared as she reached for the T-Bar.
“I already have the top bunk.” Sanders reminded with a smug little smirk as she took the opposite end of the bar.
“Not for long.”
The Cadets flew down the zipline, disappearing towards the distant island with an obnoxious cheer from MacArthur that carried across the lake. The camera panned next to them where Logan glanced out at the water and sucked in a deep breath as he reached for the T-Bar, seeming to calm down before casting a quick glance towards his boyfriend.
“You good, Diegs?”
“Of course, corazón.” Diego gently insisted as he fixed his helmet in place and took the other side of the bar, swooping his partner into his free arm. “This, I can do.”
The Otters jumped next, leaving the edge of the tower empty as they both screamed and clung tightly to each other, quickly disappearing into the distance.
“Yeah! We did it!” Brody cheered as he strutted out of the stairwell, only to immediately crash forward to the ground and clutch his legs in pain as the Father Son duo slinked away behind them. “Augh, my calves, my calves!”
“Oh snap, dude!” Geoff immediately flew into panic mode as he kept his attention squarely on his best friend’s suffering, the Daters pausing briefly at the horrifying sight before them.
“Woah, watch your step sweetcheeks.” Ryan chided in a gentle tone and immediately scooped Stephanie up to balance her on his shoulder, carrying her past the incapacitated Surfer Dude with ease.
“Mm!” Stephanie growled seductively as she petted the side of her boyfriend’s head and leaned into the gesture. “I love it when you get all gentleman-like!”
Meanwhile, the Reality TV Shows caught their breaths and powered on with their next tip in hand, as the Geniuses tailed them, completely covered in splattered bugs.
“Well, that was illuminating.” Ellody quipped as Mary spat in disgust, only for a bug to emerge and fly away, finally free. Both blinked lucidly as they watched it disappear back into the howling winds outside, equal parts fascinated and horrified.
Confessional (Geniuses):
“Based on the splatter, the wind velocity was… forty five knots.” Ellody concluded as she cleaned her glasses, then looked down at them with a sobering realization. “Twenty more, and we’d be splattered.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Mary grimaced as she rolled her shoulders, anxious. “I might not be splattered, but I sure do feel splattered.”
The Best Friends crashed into the waiting pile of dirty mattresses below, holding the tip up as their eyes went wide and they read it aloud.
“Morocco?” They both gasped, excited. “Woohoo!”
They cheered and giggled at the moment before dashing off to the airport, the Cadets and Otters colliding with the mattress shortly after. While Sanders brandished her tip with a smarmy grin, Diego massaged his head from the impact as Logan looked worriedly towards his partner. Diego winked and flashed him a thumbs up as he revealed the tip from somewhere within his helmet.
The camera abruptly cut back to the top of the tower as the last batch of teams: the Rockers, the Goths, and the LARPers all breezed through the door, having completed their scare. They each dashed past the guide and a still convulsing Brody as he moaned in agony on the floor of the observation deck.
“Just keep breathin, bro.” Geoff gently coached through his friend’s suffering. “C’mon, pant it out. Lemme hear it!”
Just behind them, the Stepbrothers finally emerged from the stairwell, exhausted, but triumphant. Meanwhile, on the tarmac, teams rode the zipline in massive succession: Sisters, Geniuses, Vegans, Father and Son, Fashion Bloggers, Mom and Daughter, Daters and Reality TV Pros all flew to the end of the line, quickly dashing off to the airport with tips in hand.
“As more teams reach the tarmac and get seats on flights one and two,” Don explained as Owen’s unfortunate placement on the T-Bar caused him to crush Noah between himself on and mattress, the big guy’s arms quickly snaking around his little buddy like a crash test pillow as they both fell back and smashed into a waiting mattress below. “The race to not come in last intensifies!”
“Almost there, Mickey,” Jay reassured in a gentle tone as he dragged his twin by one leg awkwardly towards the guide past the still incapacitated Surfer Dude. “Just stay with me!”
“I am a dainty princess…” Mickey warbled out in a voice light as a feather as the pair disappeared offscreen, the picture of weakness and adversity overcome.
“C’mon, bro, we gotta move!” Geoff finally appeared to break as he sprung into action, the desperation clear on his face as he surged forward and grabbed his friend’s arm and dragged him along too.
“Gah! Leg cramp, leg cramp!” Brody howled in pain. “Need potassium! Need potassium…!”
“Does anybody have a banana?!” Geoff frantically called out to the empty observation deck.
The guide wordlessly moved a tip into the Surfer Dude’s outstretched hand, and shook his head in bitter defeat.
“Get off!” Lorenzo shouted as he struggled to nudge Chet away when they both held onto opposite ends of the T-Bar, the mattress pile rapidly approaching. “I snagged it, I read it!”
The Stepbrothers abruptly crashed into the pile, completely unprepared to stick the landing as they crumpled into a sweaty pile of limbs and mildly concussed insults below the zipline’s base. Geoff, saddling an injured Brody over his shoulder, landed right on top of them just as Lorenzo managed to pull his arm up from the tangle.
“Sorry! Thanks for breakin’ our fall dudes,” Geoff excused with an awkward laugh as his eyes immediately landed on the tip with an excited gasp. “Morrocco! Guy, awesome!”
WIth that, the Surfer Dudes leapt into action and booked it for the airport, a dazed pair of Stepbrothers finally pulling themselves up from the sudden impact, only to be instantly dogpiled again as they broke the Adversity Twin’s fall.
“Wow! I can’t believe we did it!” Mickey exclaimed, proud, only for his face to fall slightly as he looked down terrified at the injured team beneath them. “Oh. Uh… sorry!”
“Take the next flight to Morocco.” Jay read aloud as he looked at the tip before dashing off towards the airport. “C’mon!”
But Mickey just sat there, his eye twitching frantically. “Yay… flying!”
“The teams have arrived, and the flights have been booked.” Don’s voice could once again be heard as the Tennis Rivals, soaking wet and up one angry snapping turtle, scrambled towards the airport as the last batch of teams beat them by inches to book the final flight of the current leg of the race.
A high tech looking map of the world took over the screen as a dotted line shot across the Atlantic ocean from Toronto to Marrakesh, the first plane taking off and soaring over the great white north towards its destination.
“Flight number one will carry Ice Dancers, Best Friends, Cadets, Otters, Daters, and the Reality TV Pros.” Don explained as each team’s respective icon appeared onscreen in tandem with his offscreen narration. “Flight number two carries the Sisters, Father and Son, Vegans, Fashion Bloggers, Mom and Daughter, and Geniuses. And flight number three has the Rockers, LARPers, Goths, Surfer Dudes, Adversity Twins, Stepbrothers, and Tennis Rivals.”
Don strolled back onscreen, the tarmac cleared and empty as the first three flights taxied on the runway behind him. “Who will win the first jaunt in our race? Tune in next time to find out! The Ridonculous Race is to be continued!”
*Outro Plays*