My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

The Date, Part 3

It hasn’t even been five minutes and things were already figuratively and literally spiraling out of control. There we were, careening down the lane, round and round like the Earth to the Sun.

Tried pushing the other pedal – nope, that’s unresponsive too. We’re stuck maintaining a reverse speed with no end in sight, and Ash won’t stop turning and twisting like a madman!

There two things that were racing through my mind in that one crucial, pivotal moment.

I was going to puke. Number one.

Number two – There was no way that I am ever going to live down the day where I have to explain to the staff in great detail just how my partner in crime managed to hit the break so hard that she broke the damn machine while curious onlookers peered closely at us by the sidelines.

Oooh… social anxiety. It’s an unbearable thing.

Yep, I decided. I’m gonna pretend everything was just fine and dandy. It’s good. I’ve dealt with vampires and shit, what’s a little ring-around-the-rosie to me?

Nothing. That’s right, nothing. I can… I can turn this thing around.

.....

I hope.

Then one of the staff members, a shaggy-haired individual from afar, actually managed to notice that something was amiss in all the chaos and disarray that was happening and tilted his head our way, but luckily I manage to spot him in time, and thinking quick, I raised him a big thumbs up, and the widest smile I could possibly muster.

Didn’t think I was all that convincing, but against all odds, employee-man simply shook his head and went on with his shift. Guy must have either been stoned on the job or really not all that observant as I was led to believe for that little trick to have actually worked on him.

But I knew that thumbing up every employee that looked our way wouldn’t last us in the long-run, all it’d take was one keen-eyed fellow to turn our way to know that something really wasn’t right.

We need to get this under control and fast.

There’s a saying people like to use – fake it till you make it? Well, somehow I gotta get Ash to fake it so good, that she has to make it.

I’ll make a Nascar driver out of her yet.

“Ash, get good quick please.”

Steering hard to the left, steering quickly to the right, Ash was driving like she was on thin ice, it’s no wonder we keep spinning in circles.

“I’m doing my utmost,” She grunted, her teeth in a tight grit. “But this is a drastic departure from horse riding. With a horse, I can surely -”

I flailed my arms around. “Forget the horse! Bad horse, bad analogy, my bad! No horse! This isn’t a horse so stop pulling the steering wheel like it’s a rein, you’re gonna accidentally rip it off.”

Still treating my words like law, Ash immediately adhered to my command and stopped pulling at once – but apparently, she also took that as a green light to let go of the wheel entirely.

Ash, why.

“No, keep your hands on it, don’t let go!” I freaked, pulling her reluctant hands back to the reins. “You need control, get control.”

“Ah, forgive me! I wasn’t… I wasn’t thinking just then.”

Yeah, clearly… I don’t think my poor spinal cord can take another impact like the ones you keep hurling us towards.

“It’s simple, alright?” I said gently, attempting to diffuse the tension with some calmness. “Turn the wheel, and the car will turn where you decide to turn. Forgot about speed. Just avoid the walls, avoid the other cars, and we’ll just run the timer out, yeah?”

Ash let out a breath. “Under… Understood...”

She says one thing, but her expression says another – it didn’t seem like she understood anything at all.

I mean, there wasn’t exactly like a precedent I could go off on here, something I could compare a bumper car to… tell me, what on Earth is the fantasy equivalent of driving and drifting?

Of course, I went for horse. It’s like the closest thing there is! But apparently, it wasn’t close enough. Ash just couldn’t grasp the concept of motor vehicles and their intricacies.

Crash course. We really should have taken a crash course.

Once again, too late for regrets, no time for hindsight... just gotta make the best out of the worst – and the only best I could see was for Jesus to come over and take the wheel himself.

Can’t slash yourself out of this one, Ash. No sword’s gonna…

Sword.

Swords can swing.

Idea.

“It’s a sword.”

That out-of-the-blue statement combined with my serious expression – I really can’t fault Ash for looking at me like I’ve just gone crazy or something. The grin that was slowly spreading across my face didn’t really serve to help matters all too well either.

Ash didn’t like the look on my face one bit. “Master, are you perhaps unwell?”

“It’s a sword, Ash,” I repeated again, this time fully committing to the idea. “Think of the car as one big round moving sword, okay?”

Poor Ash, if she wasn’t utterly confused before, she certainly was now. “I don’t… I don’t follow…”

“Bear with me,” I said, “Car’s the blade, steering wheel’s the hilt, and you swing! Left for left, and right for right. Same principle.”

It was the next best thing, and coincidentally enough, it was the only thing I got remaining in my arsenal of ideas. If this doesn’t work… then off I go seeing the manager and talking ‘business’.

That’s not really the endgame that I wanted here.

“Go on, Ash,” I said, crossing the fingers on both of my hands. “Take a swing.” ????????????????e????????. ????૦????

Elf-Knight from another world, I know. Swords and cars are as far from one another as they could ever be, asking her to make a mishmash out of the two was the same thing as having me not fall for a pyramid scheme.

But unlike me, the literal epitome of incompetence, Ash was, on the other hand, far more capable when it came time to dealing with unwanted predicaments.

With effort and composure concentrated into one swift action, she swung the sword, and the results were immediate. The car she claimed untamable, uncontrollable, finally swerved to her will, sparing us of another rude encounter with a solid wall.

“Oh!” The shock in her voice was apparent, the astonished look in her eyes, the staggering quiver in her breath, it all culminated to the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her face. “I’ve done it!”

She turned around to face me. “Master, I did it!”

“Turn again!” Shouted I, pointing forward towards an approaching adversary, whose sights and ill-intent were intently set on us.

Ash swerved again, a sharp turn that was only mere inches away from impact, barely grazing the rubber rim of our opponent’s car. Dodging was already impressive enough, considering our constant pace backward, but it seems impressive wasn’t enough for her – Ash spun the opposite direction, drifting a perfect semi-circle back into our assailant, and colliding into them so hard, they went careening all the way to the other end of the arena.

I couldn’t believe what I just saw there.

“That was you?” I asked, my eyes blinking rapidly in bewilderment.

Ash just looked back at me with her mouth hanging wide open. Even she wasn’t sure if what happened just happened. “I… I believe so…”

But it happened, her sudden grasp at the controls, every turn and swerve controlled and focused – this was happening alright, Ash was getting good again.

Suddenly nausea and worry had all dissipated from my thoughts, replaced by a sudden surge of ecstasy and adrenaline that planted a huge smile on my face.

“Well, don’t stop now,” I said, cheering her on with a pat on the shoulder. “Keep that sword swinging, Ash. We’re in the ring for another six minutes.”

“Understood, Master!”

Unlike before, there was a strength to her voice, a boldness, that finally matched well with her affirmation and a confidence that surfaced past her apprehension.

Don’t know how, don’t know why, but that sword metaphor actually worked, and I’m not going to question it one bit at all. Maybe I should start comparing everything to a sword if I wanted her to excel at something. Seems to be going great so far.

By the seconds, Ash’s drifting skills were being honed to even greater levels, dodging and evading all without even a single glance backward, each turn she made getting tighter, much more refined, than the last.

And I wasn’t the only one to have noticed her sudden improvement. One by one, the many among us had slowly come to realize that the little bumper car that could have gone and done it.

We weren’t seen as bumbling amateurs, now we stood among them down at the bottom of the food chain as fresh meat… and everybody was itching for a piece.

And to that, all I have to say was – Good luck to you all.

Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines.