For someone like Vihaan, it wasn’t always easy being in an airport.
In a post-9/11 world, the sight of a brown man in an airport struck terror in the average American citizen, an irrational fear unfortunately engraved into the psyche of American culture after the terrible act of terrorism that day. In the twenty years since, the social climate had changed considerably in a lot of ways, but in other ways, the song remained the same.
Today, however, the concerned glances and feelings of impending doom from fearful white citizens in his surrounding area were like water off the brown duck’s back.
“Is that Mummy?” asked Vihaan as he craned his neck to get a better view in the sea of arrivals. Above his head he held a shoddy piece of cardboard with “MUMMY” written in black sharpie, the fumes so fresh that his cousin Vijaan was getting a contact high beside him. “IS THAT YOU, MUMMY?!”
“It is not her, cousin Vihaan,” hissed Vijaan. “You must not scream in the airport. Your fashion is like that of a man without home. You will be seen as a threat to national security.”
“I have a home, you bloody bastard,” Vihaan shot back, not daring to take his eyes off the deplaned passengers. “I am SCW World End of Year Battle Royal Invitational Champion. 250,000 dollars, cousin Vijaan. I do not shop at Goodwill anymore. I shop at Kmart. My clothes are Kmart brand, so do not lie before Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, saying I look as a man without home.”
“My apologies, cousin Vihaan,” Vijaan muttered bitterly. Since his cousin’s mentioned victory, Vijaan was having self-confidence issues, sometimes feeling lesser than when compared to his cousin. The truth was, his rich father had cut him off recently, which was fine, for the most part. Vijaan had his fingers in a few different pies, but while he had multiple sources of income, it was nothing compared to making $250,000 in one night in front of viewers all around the world. Not to mention his Mercedes-Benz C-Class wasn’t nearly as cool as Vihaan’s new Cadillac Escalade. Still, he had ways to remind his cousin of his standing. “Your mother, did she fly first class?”
Vihaan finally turned to his cousin, a sheepish look on his face. “No,” he mumbled softly, still holding the sign high in the air. “It was coach. Why?”
“Coach?” scoffed Vijaan, shaking his head as he released a dry laugh. “My, my. The slums are still part of you, cousin Vihaan?”
“Shut it, you,” Vihaan snapped. After a moment, he had to sigh. His mother deserved first class, but it wasn’t meant to be. “After buying the house, I do not have much money left. The tax man took many dollars from me, the bloody bastard. ‘The Man’ made it so I cannot give Mummy first class.”
“I only fly first class,” Vijaan declared arrogantly while adjusting his Ray-Ban sunglasses and straightening out his three-piece suit. “I could have lent you some money for the plane ride, cousin Vihaan.”
“I do not want your blood money, you son of a bitch. You double app – Lyft and Uber at the same time. You break the rules! Your dollars are tainted!”
“You are just jealous that I have 5.0 ratings on both apps while you have 4.7 on Uber.”
“I TOLD YOU THAT SOMEBODY BLOODY REVIEW BOMBED ME LIKE RISE OF SKYWALKER AND CAPTAIN MARVEL! IT IS NOT FAIR! YOU SHUT UP!”
“Is that your mummy?”
Both pairs of eyes were drawn back to the crowd, where Vihaan’s loving mother stood with a roller bag beside her.
“MUMMY!” screamed Vihaan, jumping up and down excitedly while continuing to hold his sign in the air.
Roller bag dragging behind her, Vihaan’s mother walked forward and embraced her son, the first time she’d had the pleasure of doing that in several years. She pulled back and rested a gentle hand upon Vihaan’s face.
“My son,” she said softly.
Before she could go any further, Vijaan inserted himself into the touching reunion. “Hello, Vihaan’s mummy,” he said with a creepy smirk.
“Oh, young Vijaan!” Mummy cheered, pulling away from Vihaan to give Vijaan a hug.
Vihaan scowled and violently ripped his mother off of his cousin. “Away, evil bastard, she’s my mummy,” Vihaan sneered at his cousin before looking at his mother with a sweet smile on his face. “I am so happy to see you, Mummy. We will go to Kmart on the way home to get you American clothing. You will be looking very litty.”
“Litty?”
“American slang, Mummy,” Vihaan explained. “It means off the hook.”
“Off the hook?”
Vijaan shook his head and let out a drawn out sigh. “It is not ‘litty,’ it is ‘lit.’ Do not trust cousin Vihaan for these things.”
“Bloody shut up! My mummy is litty!” cried Vihaan, turning around to look at everyone around him and pointing emphatically at his mother. “Mummy is the bomb! My mummy is the bomb and she is litty!”
Screams of terror filled the surrounding area, slowly spreading its way through the greater area of the airport as word of a lit bomb advanced from person to person, group to group. Before long, Vihaan was tackled to the ground by a security guard as well as a civilian bystander who always dreamt of being the American hero taking down the evil foreigners.
With guns drawn on Vihaan’s mother, Vijaan opted to push his Ray-Bans further up his nose and slowly back away until he was lost in the hysteric crowd.
After spending several hours detained at the airport and receiving a couple of cavity searches for the safety of the United States of America, the misunderstanding was cleared up for Vihaan and Mummy. Though much later than they had originally expected, Vihaan, Vijaan, and Mummy finally found themselves riding in Vihaan’s Cadillac Escalade, on their way to the half-built house for Mummy.
“Are you okay back there, Mummy?” asked Vihaan, taking a look in the rearview mirror to see his mother sitting in the backseat.
Of course, she was okay in the back. After all, thanks to the spacious 2021 Cadillac Escalade, they didn’t have to worry about trying desperately to squeeze her luggage into the car. It fit right in the back, leaving her the entire backseat to lounge in.
“Yes, very spacious, dear,” she said while rubbing her hands along the stunningly smooth leather seats. “Look at my son, driving his luxurious car. What a success!”
“I wanted you to sit in the front seat to help ease your sore anus after the TSA violated us, but cousin Vijaan—” Vihaan turned to Vijaan and started screaming at him while not keeping his eyes anywhere near the road, “YOU BASTARD, MAKING MUMMY SIT IN THE BACK!”
Vijaan shrugged. “I called shotgun,” he replied calmly. “It is simple, cousin.”
“You abandon your family to wait at Jamba Juice and then you make Mummy sit in the back?!”
“I had a gift card.”
“I do not bloody care about your gift card!”
“It was a Christmas gift from you, cousin Vihaan, I wanted to use it to let you know I appreciated it.”
“In the middle of our sexual assault?! I said I do not bloody care about your gift card!”
“It is okay, Vihaan, it is okay,” Mummy said softly while reaching forward and rubbing his arm. The attempt to calm him was successful and also had the benefit of making him look at the road in front of him after not having done so for the last several seconds. “I am just so excited to be in America with my son. My son, the big star in his big car! Delightful!”
“And your big house, Mummy,” Vihaan beamed with a proud smile.
“It is not that big, Vihaan’s mummy,” Vijaan butted in. “Do not get too excited.”
“I will drive us off the road, cousin Vijaan,” Vihaan growled, his rage starting to build back up. “I will kill us all and leave us rotting in a ditch if it means shutting you up!”
“I believe we are here anyway, cousin.”
Having been on auto-pilot since leaving the airport, Vihaan didn’t even notice that his cousin was correct. Turning a corner and driving down a block, they arrived at Casa de Vihaan, though obviously still under construction.
Vihaan excitedly pulled into the driveway and slammed onto the brakes, almost giving the airbags of his Cadillac Escalade a test run from the abrupt stop, but due to the four-star safety rating of the vehicle, the seatbelts kept everyone’s skulls from bashing into the dashboard despite the jolt of momentum.
After ripping his seatbelt off and jumping out of the car, Vihaan didn’t even give his mother a chance to grab her bags, practically throwing her out of the backseat and dragging her towards the front door, which was less of a door and more of a hole with a frame in its current state.
“Ladies first,” Vihaan said playfully while making way for his mother.
“Using wood instead of reinforced steel, I see,” Vijaan said as he brushed by them both and stepped through the vacant doorway. “I am telling you, cousin Vihaan, you will regret being cheap in the long run.”
“I am not having a steel house,” Vihaan shot back as he hooked his mother’s arm and walked her through the doorway, stepping into the house with no walls. “It is to be rustic, just like home.”
“It’s beautiful,” Mummy gasped softly, stepping forward and looking at the layout of the house while Vijaan walked off to find something else to criticise.
She could imagine it all. Upstairs, her room. With an ensuite, of course. Shining white tiles with a luxurious bath, but with carpet in the room so she could feel the soft plush against her fresh feet after a hot bubble bath to wrap up a long day. A queen bed with silk sheets. Maybe a nightlight just for comfort.
Waking up in the morning, she’d pass her son’s room, getting the chance to see his loving face every morning after spending too much time away from him after he left for America. Going downstairs, she’d make her way straight into the kitchen to make the day’s breakfast for both her and her not-so-little one. Together, they’d go out to the back deck and look out at their beautiful yard and enjoy breakfast together in the bright sun.
The perfect life.
“This is the living room, Mummy,” Vihaan cut through the vision and wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulder, shifting his free hand out in front of them in a spreading motion as if to display the future goods. “Giant wall mounted television, but still with an entertainment center to hold all of our technology, such as the expensive soundbar, all of my consoles, all of my BluRays – everything! Out the back, I may even have the man cave where you would not be allowed, Mummy, for you are not a man.”
Mummy laughed and looked up at her son. “We really have different ideas for this place, don’t we?”
“What do you mean, Mummy?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said with another laugh. She shook her head. “What matters is that we do it all together…as a family.” Pulling her hand up, she rested it on her son’s cheek and tried to stifle any oncoming tears. “I missed you so much.”
Vihaan smiled. “Mummy,” he began dramatically, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“Friendship? We are mother and son!”
Vihaan rolled his eyes and took his mother’s hand off of his face in frustration. “Casablanca, 1942, Mummy,” he explained. “You must learn these things if you are to be in America. If you do not know Casablanca or Humphrey Bogart, they will deport you!”
Mummy laughed and brought her son in for a hug. “Okay then,” she said into his chest, squeezing him tighter. “This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
MONTHS LATER
Mummy slid the plate of food onto the table. Vihaan’s tired eyes drifted from the yard of dry, brown grass to the day’s breakfast.
Roti, dosas, spiced potatoes, all with different dips and chutneys on the side, everything homemade. Same as every day.
“Wonderful,” Vihaan sighed with sarcasm. His bottle of Yoo-hoo on the side was at least a saving grace. “Dosas again.”
Mummy sat down beside him and looked out into the yard with a look on her face that was the complete opposite of her son’s. This was everything she ever wanted. It was all just like she envisioned and she was just as happy as she imagined that she would be.
Meanwhile, Vihaan wondered if this was all a mistake.
It turns out that – despite being the most money Vihaan had seen in his entire life – 250,000 dollars is not actually infinite. Upon finishing construction of the house, he had run out of the money that he won for his performance in SCW. Even worse, he had to take out some loans to finish it all, which meant that after everything, he was actually in debt.
As if his financial problems weren’t bad enough, he had a series of personal issues to deal with as well.
After Vijaan began to struggle with being cut off from his father along with some problems with his multiple investments, he had fallen on hard times. The image of the perfect cousin was shattered as he now made residence on Vihaan’s couch, surviving day-to-day with payments from Uber and Lyft.
Beyond that, both Jordan Majors and Cookie Dreams were not the huge part of his life like they once were. Jordan seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown while Cookie had mostly disappeared to take care of her father. Life with not-quite-as-much Jordan was tolerable, but life without Cookie? Not good.
Everything seemed to be falling apart. He felt like the central character of a tragedy.
To make things worse, Vihaan returned from spacing out and saw that a chunk of his roti was gone, leaving behind a jagged edge that closely resembled the bite mark of Vijaan. Vihaan looked up and saw his cousin standing next to him in his Ray-Bans and three-piece suit, chewing away.
“Why did you take my roti?! Damn you!” Vihaan snapped at his cousin before giving him a lookover. “And why are you dressed sharply again? What happened to your oversized shirt and Nike sweatpants?”
“Those days are over, cousin Vihaan,” Vijaan said with a puffed out chest. “Soon, I will be out of your desolate shack and back to a place of my own.”
“Our home is not a desolate shack, you bastard!”
“Vihaan’s mummy, I will be sad to leave you behind in this man’s care, but it must be done,” Vijaan said while resting a hand on Mummy’s shoulder.
She looked up at him with a confused look on her face. “Vijaan, where are you going? What has happened?”
“Daddy has called,” Vijaan revealed while turning to Vihaan to smirk that familiar smirk. “He is starting a new business and has invited me to be part of it.”
“Good,” Vihaan barked angrily. “Now you can stop mooching off us and go back to mooching off your daddy! We spit on your presence! You leave hair gel all over the sink, bastard!”
“Vihaan,” Mummy whispered harshly, “be kind!”
“Do not be so hostile, cousin,” Vijaan said as he went around Vihaan and took a seat beside him at the table. “Daddy has insisted that you be part of this. We want you to join us.”
“Me?” he questioned. Vijaan nodded. “Is this like the time you signed me up for experimental medicine trials when I was short on rent?”
“No, cousin, this is legitimate. I have told Daddy of our Uber escapades and about how much experience we have as drivers. I did have to tell him of your 4.7 star rating and let him know that you are not nearly as good as me at rideshare.”
“Fuck you! I will put you out!”
“But he wants this to be a family business, so he accepts your flaws, as do I.”
Vihaan rolled his eyes and shook his head “What is it?! What is the business?!”
“We Come 2 U.”
“I beg your pardon?! You what?!”
“That’s the name of the business, cousin Vihaan,” Vijaan clarified. “We Come 2 U, with the number two and the letter U. The U in the logo has a little arrow, like a U-turn!”
“What does this even mean, cousin Vijaan?!”
“You see, it is rideshare,” Vijaan explained before pausing dramatically, “but we come to you.”
The silence that fell over the table was palpable.
“What the bloody hell are you on about?!” Vihaan cried, angrily slamming the table. “That is the same as Uber!”
“And Lyft.”
“Yes, Lyft! You even say yourself, Lyft! The demon to the angel that is Uber! This is the same thing, damn you!”
“The difference is that this business has Daddy,” Vijaan rebuked with great confidence. Vihaan simply shook his head. “We run this as a small family business. Never before has a rideshare business been represented by a family.”
“You are talking about bloody cabs now! The taxi drivers that nearly killed us in a darkened alley were probably a family!”
“It was not that dark, it was daytime.”
“You sicken me, cousin,” Vihaan spat. “You and your daddy disgrace not only our entire family, but even worse, you disgrace Uber! I would never betray Uber for nothing!”
“It is not nothing, cousin, it is not.”
“Shut up, you!”
“Vihaan,” Mummy cut in, “listen to your cousin!”
“The devil has got his tongue, Mummy!”
“Cousin Vihaan, Daddy has given me a modest loan of five million United States dollars to begin We Come 2 U,” Vijaan revealed nonchalantly. Vihaan’s eyes almost bulged out of the sockets. “He will run the business from afar, but he is relying on us to be soldiers on the ground.”
“Five million?! You said it was a small family business!”
“The business is small, but our family is very large.”
“Five million!” Vihaan continued. He couldn’t believe this. He would have to win so many battle royals to earn that much money.
“Much of it is going to our high-class cars, of which there will be many.”
“Many?! Why many?!”
“As I said, our family is very large,” Vijaan repeated with a smug smirk. “Now, we are still in the building stages, but with me in charge of the tech, it should not be much longer. We will be placed in shifts and we will be paid by the hour. We will have a receptionist in our office that fields the calls and they will relay the customer information back to us in the vehicles. And then? We Come 2 U.”
“Cousin Vijaan, you are describing a taxi cab company! You have literally described a taxi service, word-for-word! You are talking about starting a business that has been slowly dying for decades!”
“Cousin Vihaan, you will be paid well. This, I promise you,” Vijaan vowed before standing up from his chair and straightening out his suit. “You cannot dawdle. Training will begin soon and Daddy and I expect you to be there.”
“Training?!” Vihaan scoffed. He was shaken with anger down to his very core. If not for the breakfast that laid on the table, he would have tossed the useless piece of furniture across the derelict lawn out of rage. “You are taking away our freedoms as rideshare drivers! Hours?! Salaries?! Training?! What happened to a simple background check?! A simple background check and then we are sent on our way, ready to drive strangers around with no training needed!”
“Times are changing, cousin,” Vijaan quietly warned. He relayed an added warning as he turned to leave. “Do not be left behind.”
“We changed the times!” cried Vihaan as Vijaan walked back inside the house. “We killed the taxi service which you are currently trying to revive! The blood of millions of taxi drivers will forever stain our hands and you want to try and bring it back?! What the bloody hell is wrong with you, taking away our American freedoms?!”
“Let it go, Vihaan,” his mother requested calmly, laying a hand on top of his. “Let it go. He has gone now.”
“Let it go?! I am not a bloody Disney Princess, Mummy!” Vihaan roared. The look on his mother’s face caused him to take a moment. Her poor heart probably couldn’t take the strife within the family. Unlike Vihaan, she was always very accepting of the richer side of her family. It was her brother, after all. Vihaan recited “Goosfraba,” a calming technique taught to him by Jack Nicholson in the 2003 American comedy Anger Management. “Mummy, he is going against everything we stand for. Taxi cabs, Mummy?! And he is holding our family values over my head in an attempt to coax me into this injustice!”
“But what if this makes you happy, Vihaan?” his mother questioned. Vihaan looked out at his patchy brown grass and tried to imagine a scenario where he’d actually enjoy this. “Remember how happy you were when you won the wrestling championship?”
“Of course I remember, Mummy,” Vihaan barked somewhat angrily before quickly calming down upon reflection of the great memory. “Miss Jordan and Miss Cookie were so proud of me.”
“Hey, maybe you talk to them,” she suggested with a motherly smile. “You tell them these things Vijaan has told you and see what they think.”
“I would not be able to drop everything I am doing at a moment’s notice for Miss Jordan anymore if I did this,” Vihaan said mournfully. She was pathetic, needy, and wasn’t nearly as shapely as Cookie, but she was still his friend. Maybe even his best friend. He wanted to be there for her whenever she needed it. Cookie, too, even though she didn’t call upon him nearly as much anymore. “I would have no freedom in the land of the free.”
“Maybe you would not get to see your friends as much, but we know how well Vijaan and his family have run things before. You would be paid very well and you would be able to be part of a business started by our family. Sometimes we must give up some things we want in order to live a better life.”
Mummy knew that better than anyone. She’d made sacrifices to give her family a comfortable living, which included letting Vihaan fly from the nest to go to the United States. The hardest thing she ever did was not even for herself, but for her son. Vihaan considered this while taking in his mother’s advice.
“Thank you for your words, Mummy. Now, leave me be with my spiced potatoes,” Vihaan instructed with a dismissive wave. “I must FaceTime with Miss Jordan and ask for her advice even though her life is laughable.”
“Tell her I said hello,” Mummy said as she took her plate of food and made her way back towards the house.
“I will not because I think she has mummy issues,” Vihaan whispered to himself as he took his phone out and brought up Jordan to FaceTime her. After a few moments, she answered. She looked a bit worse for wear. An undeniably pretty girl, but she looked like she’d been put through the ringer, emotionally speaking. “Miss Jordan? You look as Linday Lohan. After Mean Girls, I mean.”
“V, I’m sorry, but…not today,” Jordan croaked softly. “I just can’t with you today.”
Vihaan looked in the corner of the screen and noticed his video feed was just a block of blackness. “Hey, what the bloody hell is wrong with my camera? Have you given me a virus, Miss Jordan?!”
Jordan drew a heavy sigh. “Your thumb is on the camera,” she droned.
His thumb slid off the camera, revealing the unflattering angle towards his face after the camera successfully adjusted to the light. “Oh, I see,” he muttered sheepishly. “Damn these thumbs of mine!”
“Listen, I gotta go, I—”
“No, Miss Jordan, wait! I need your life advice!”
“Life advice?” Jordan scoffed. Vihaan looked on expectantly as she wiped something from her eye and ran her hand through her hair. “That’s the last thing I can offer anyone.”
“Yes, yes, I know, you are not as successful as me in your wrestling career, nor is your life as good as mine, but I do not care about that, I need advice for my career and my life. Listen, that damn dirty rat Vijaan, he came to me with a business proposal. It is big money, like you. Miss Jordan is money, as they say! Well, as you say. I do not think anyone else says that.”
Jordan rolled her eyes in response. “Awesome,” she replied sarcastically before shaking her head. “I’m gonna go, so—”
“Just listen, damn you! If I take this job, I cannot hang out with you as much! But Mummy said that sometimes you must be miserable to be happy! I do not know what to do. It is a real Sophie’s Choice, but perhaps not as filled with sorrow and death.”
“You want some advice?”
“Yes, Miss Jordan, yes! I have been bloody asking for nearly two minutes! Open your ears!”
“My advice is to figure it out yourself,” she said coldly.
Vihaan was caught off guard by her bluntness. He recalled the day he met her. There she was, standing at the corner, sticking her middle finger up in the air towards a building. He never did find out why she was doing that, but as she got into the backseat, he saw the mascara running down her face and knew that this white woman was extremely volatile, but he also knew that she needed a friend. Both of those things held true to this day.
“Are you okay, Miss Jordan?” asked Vihaan. “Why do you hate me? Why have you said such things in such manners?”
“Because, V, it’s the truth,” she told him, sounding as harsh as she looked. For a moment, she was suddenly lost in thought. She finally drifted out of it, but continued just staring out in space. “I nearly killed a student today. Her name’s Valen.”
She took a breath and closed her eyes, looking to be on the verge of tears, which Vihaan didn’t notice.
“A student? Miss Jordan, have you decided to become a teacher after your wrestling career has stalled significantly? What are you teaching?”
“They said they think it’s just a stinger, but…” Jordan stopped again. It was like the scenarios of everything that could’ve happened were running through her head. Despite getting out of the situation unscathed, she couldn’t help but to wallow in the anxiety of what could have been. She opened her eyes and shook her head. “Literally, less than an inch of a difference, and she could’ve died, or—or—…or been…paralyzed…and it would have been because of me.”
“I do not understand,” Vihaan said as he watched Jordan try to hold it all together. “You are a good teacher. You have taught me many things. Your student has not died, so this is a great success. Why can you not help me when it may decide our future?”
“You need to learn like everyone else. Because right now, no one’s here to help me, and that’s life.”
“But I am here,” Vihaan cried softly.
“Cookie’s gone,” Jordan continued, paying no mind to Vihaan’s protest, “David’s pissed at me, people keep expecting me – of all people – to defend Peyton Rice – of all people – and it’s just—” She stopped again and just shook her head. “I just need some time, okay?”
“But Miss Jordan, if I take this job—”
“Just leave me alone.”
“—I may not be able to see you—”
The call ended abruptly. Vihaan stammed a bit, at a loss of words. For the second time in just the last hour, he wanted to throw another object across his sad, pathetic lawn – a spitting image of how he felt. This time it was his phone, which was also his livelihood. This stopped him from doing something he’d regret. Instead, he let his frustrations out at the now blank screen.
“Fuck you, Miss Jordan! I will go to someone who truly cares!”
“MISS COOKIE!”
The screams of a jacked Indian man were something of a concern for this suburban neighborhood, especially considering it was now after midnight. However, Vihaan would not be deterred as the lights of surrounding houses began to flicker on, not even as silhouettes approached windows and doors. He continued to pound away at the door.
“MISTRESS COOKIE, IT IS VIHAAN! OPEN THIS DOOR OR I SHALL KARATE CHOP IT OPEN!”
It had been awhile since Vihaan and Cookie had met up. After her father had a health scare, Cookie had decided to take some time off from SCW to take care of him. Not just from SCW, but from Jordan, too, which meant she was also taking some time off from Vihaan by extension.
In an attempt to stay close to Daddy Dreams, Cookie had moved from Jordan’s ranch and got a place of her own to share with Daddy. With Derek Adonis splitting away from Cookie and finding God, things weren’t exactly going easy for Cookie. It was like she was now a single mom taking care of her child, despite being the daughter of said “child” in this particular situation.
Vihaan was now making it so she wondered if giving him her new address was a bad move.
“MISTRESS COOKIE, I WILL PUNCH THE DOOR—”
Before Vihaan could plow his fist into the door, it finally swung open, revealing Cookie in a somewhat revealing nightie.
“Oh, my,” Vihaan moaned as his eyes were glued about half a foot down from Cookie’s face. “Very good evening.”
“V, what are you doing here?” she asked through a yawn. “It’s, like, two in the morning.”
Vihaan returned to the hell of Earth and cleared his throat, now looking Cookie in the eyes. “Sorry, Miss Cookie, but I have no time to be personal with you despite missing you every single day of my waking life because of never getting to spend time with you anymore,” he said sternly and professionally. “I am here strictly on business. Please, join me in my Cadillac Escalade.” He began to walk back to his car, but turned when he didn’t hear the delicate footsteps of the woman he hoped he would marry one day. “Miss Cookie? Join me!”
“Why don’t you just come in?”
“Because I talk business in my office,” he responded with a dramatic wave towards the Escalade. “This is where we will discuss your future as my client.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Cookie said with a shrug while stepping out and closing the door behind her. Before long, they had found themselves in the Escalade, Cookie taking the backseat just out of habit. “I can’t believe you drove all the way out here at this time of the night!”
“Driving is my specialty,” Vihaan remarked stoically while looking at her in the rearview mirror. “But I am not here to talk about that. No, wait. I am. I am here to talk about that!”
“What’s going on?”
Vihaan continued to look at Cookie in the rearview mirror with his hands on the wheel. He narrowed his eyes towards her. “What is the matter with you?”
“What d’ya mean?”
“You are not as lively as usual,” he noticed. “You have lost your smile. My beautiful sunflower has lost its glow. Your sun has darkened.”
“You did just wake me up at two o’clock in the morning,” she said, trying to force out a small laugh. “Sorry, it’s just—well, I’ve been busy here. Daddy has needed looking after, which means that I—…I guess I just don’t always have the time to be me. Y’know what I mean?”
“No, I do not,” Vihaan replied somewhat brusquely. “I always have time to be me. I am me. Who else would I be?”
“You always did have a way with words,” Cookie quipped back.
“Listen, I do not have time for the indigestion of Daddy Dreams,” Vihaan said dismissively as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, still staring straight ahead through the windshield. “I do not.”
Cookie reached a hand out and placed it on Vihaan’s shoulder. An instant sense of relief washed over him. “You okay?”
His eyes drifted back to the rearview mirror, but he couldn’t bear to look her in the reflection of her eyes. Not just because of her distracting cleavage, but because the emotions bubbling to the surface made it difficult to maintain eye contact. Back to the road his eyes went.
“Miss Cookie, I have received a job offer.”
“Oh, that’s awesome! I’m happy for you, V!”
“It is not good news,” he shot back, the disappointment clear in his voice. “It is bad news. It is the most horrible news!”
“Oh. That’s not awesome! I’m not happy for you, V!”
“Thank you for your thoughts and prayers, Miss Cookie,” Vihaan said through a deep sigh. He released his white knuckle grip on the wheel and leaned back in his chair. Cookie kept a caring hand on his shoulder. “I am wondering what to do. I asked Miss Jordan for help, but she told me to go away and figure everything out myself.”
“Kylie said that?”
“Who is Kylie?!” Vihaan yelped in a sudden state of panic. Quickly, he calmed down. “Oh, yes, Miss Jordan, you mean.”
“That doesn’t sound like her,” said Cookie while she bit down on her lip, sliding her hand off of Vihaan’s shoulder and onto her lap.
“She also said that she hates me and then wished a curse upon both me and my mummy.”
“Whoa, really?!”
“Okay, maybe not,” Vihaan quickly confessed. He shook his head. “But it felt that way.”
Cookie sighed. “You know how she can get. That girl can be a hot mess, but she’s our hot mess. Plus…she’s been going through a tough time. She’ll find her way, she’s got a good heart,” Cookie said, almost hopeful in nature. “Don’t worry about her.”
“How can I not? She is my friend.”
A smile returned to Cookie’s face, as did her hand to Vihaan’s shoulder. “You know I really miss you, right?”
“I miss you as well, Miss Cookie.”
“So, what’s the problem?” she asked, suddenly looking more like her chirpy self. “Cookie’s here to help!”
“Right,” Vihaan mumbled before clearing his throat, sitting up straight and going into business mode…though, it was clear that this was mostly personal. “That weasel motherfuck Vijaan, he has offered me a job to work in a taxi business.”
“Like Uber?”
“No, like taxi, and yes, I know it is a dying industry, but please, let me continue,” Vihaan requested after putting a hand up. “It would mean I no longer have the freedom of schedule that Uber provides me. This means that I would no longer able to be at your or Miss Jordan’s beck and call, which—”
“Oh, my God,” Cookie suddenly exclaimed. Vihaan felt her hand slide off his shoulder once again.
“Yes, I know, it is terrible, but—”
“Daddy?!”
“If it pleases you, yes—”
“Daddy!”
Vihaan turned to see Cookie shuffling across the backseat to peer out of her window. They both looked out towards her doorway to see a fully nude Daddy Dreams standing in the doorway, looking completely lost despite being in the doorway of his own home.
“What the—” Vihaan stopped and squinted. The only sign of definition on the amorphous hunk of mass in the doorway were the ripples of fat down its entire body. It was an incredible sight. “Did you guys get a pet blobfish? It is so ugly out of water.”
“No, that’s Daddy! Aw, no, I think he’s sleepwalking,” Cookie stated, clearly worried. “He does that sometimes.”
“He looks as a grey Fat Derek,” Vihaan commented, referring to his former arch-nemesis Derek Adonis. He couldn’t look away. “Has he gained weight since I last saw him?”
“V, just stay here for a minute, I have to go get him back to bed before he hurts himself,” she said as she scrambled out of the car, slamming the door behind her. “Be right back!”
Vihaan looked on as Cookie rushed to her father’s aid. For such a small girl, she held tremendous power and was able to get her father out of the doorway and back into the house. Both Cookie and Daddy disappeared out of view, presumably with Cookie plowing him inch-by-inch until he was back in his bed.
Watching Cookie leave to take care of her father made Vihaan realize something that he didn’t want to realize, but maybe he needed to.
Jordan was right.
He had to figure this out himself. All alone. Cookie and Jordan had moved on. They had their own issues. At that moment, everything was answered. He had to leave them behind. It was selfish of him to try and weigh them down with his problems. To think, he was complaining about moving up in a career that is typically dead-end. He had to move on, just like they had.
“I’m just being silly,” his voice cracked. “A silly fool.”
He pulled out his phone and called Jordan. No FaceTime this time. This was to be short and sweet.
Jordan answered after a few rings. “V? I’m glad you called, look—”
“Can I talk to you? I will not keep you long,” Vihaan began, suddenly sounding like he was reading from a script.
“I just wanna say—”
“I have to go somewhere and I do not think I can come back,” he continued, just blowing through Jordan’s attempt at talking. “But I just wanted you to know that getting to be around you and Cookie was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
There was a brief silence on the other end. “Have you been watching Drive again?” asked Jordan. “That sounds like Ryan Gosling, for sure.”
“Goodbye, Miss Jordan.”
Vihaan tossed the phone onto the passenger’s seat and looked at the still-closed door of Cookie’s home. She wasn’t coming back…but even if she was, this is something he had to do. He couldn’t bother these people anymore. It was time to become his own man.
“And goodbye, Miss Cookie,” Vihaan said while looking tearfully at the door. “Our hopes and dreams travel with you.”
As Vihaan’s lip began to quiver, Jordan’s quiet, muffled voice came from the phone, which hadn’t been hung up. “Man of Steel,” she said. “That’s Russell Crowe in Man of Steel. Why are you quoting movies?! Talk to me!”
Vihaan quickly reached over and ended the call before returning to his sombre gazing at Cookie’s house. With the push of a button (because the 2021 Cadillac Escalade does not require a key because the future has arrived in vehicle technology), his car started. He ended his final glance at Cookie’s house before he drove off and away towards a new life.
ONE MONTH LATER
“Hello and welcome, Mister Jacob,” Vihaan greeted lifelessly as a man named Jacob and his pregnant wife made their way in the backseat of the 2022 Ferrari Purosangue.
The Purosangue was the first SUV ever produced by Ferrari and it wasn’t actually released to the public yet. Thanks to the connections of Vijaan’s father, they were able to get a small fleet of them before anyone else. Not for free, of course. In fact, most of the money put into the business was spent on the cars, just as Vijaan had predicted a month prior. Yet, they didn’t spring for the extra comfort cotton when buying the uniforms. Assholes.
“And who is this woman with the belly?” he asked.
“My wife. Donna,” Jacob answered as he helped his wife sit down next to him.
“Hello and welcome, Miss Donna. Thank you both for letting us Come 2 U.”
Jacob clenched his fist in pure rage. “What the hell did you say, pervert?!”
“It is the name of the app, sir,” Vihaan replied, a phrase he’d said hundreds of times over this short period of beta testing.
“Oh, right. I forgot,” Jacob responded while unclenching his fist. “Damn, this car is smooth as hell, but it’s kinda small.”
“It is Ferrari’s first SUV, Mister Jacob. Please buckle up,” Vihaan requested as he suddenly zoomed off. The ride was underway.
“Ferrari, huh?” came the voice of Jacob from the back. “I heard with them that you’re basically paying for the name, not so much the quality.”
“Yes, well, my cousin Vijaan also spent close to a thousand dollars on his Ray-Ban sunglasses and he was in charge of acquiring our vehicles,” Vihaan sneered. “So I will let you do the mathematics on that one.”
“Shit, though, I wouldn’t mind rocking a Ferrari! No more of that for me, though,” Jacob said as he gently patted his wife’s belly. “Upgrading to the ol’ family van with the little one on the way. It’s actually a funny story. You’re driving us to the dealer where we’re picking up the new car!”
“This is not a funny story, Mister Jacob,” Vihaan said while turning up the volume of the business mandated soft-rock radio station. Today, “All Out of Love” by Air Supply was blessing the airwaves.
It had been almost two weeks since the We Come 2 U experience had begun. As far as the business side went, Vihaan had no idea how it was going. But speaking as a “ground soldier,” as Vijaan’s had referred to him as, the experience was terrible. The main upside was that he no longer had to worry about getting a five star rating, so he didn’t have to worry about being polite and could crank Air Supply any time he wanted, but especially when someone was being boring.
Though…the roots of his Uber experience often showed themselves. Or maybe it was just he couldn’t help but be friendly.
Vihaan sighed and turned the radio back down. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Girl,” Donna answered with a kind smile.
“I had a girl once,” Vihaan started dramatically. “Two, actually. One looked as a small boy and was lesbian, but she was still a good girl.”
Jacob blinked confusedly. “Oh. What happened to them?”
“Oh, my God, Jacob,” Donna whispered pretty loudly. “You can’t just ask foreigners about their children like that. They might be prisoners of war or something.”
“No, Miss Donna, they are fine,” Vihaan reassured her. “I just had to leave them behind. Mummy told me that in order to be happy, you must hate your life.”
“That’s grim, bud,” Jacob said flatly. “How long have you been in America?”
“For a very long time, yes. I came to be a Hollywood movie star, but that is currently on hold while I drive. I am working on some screenplays during my free time.”
“Oh, yeah? What stories have you got going on?”
“Imagine this,” Vihaan began theatrically. “An action-comedy where the main character – me – is a rideshare driver. He picks up a dangerous individual who is on a mission involving much death and gunfire. In order to survive, this driver – me – must adapt and learn to be a murderous killer!”
“Oh, okay,” Jacob muttered awkwardly. “Kinda sounds like Collateral with Tom Cruise, but hey, it sounds awesome still.”
“No, no, not Collateral. Mine is Uber. Also I am a foreign lead, something much needed in mainstream film.”
“In that case, it kinda sounds like Stuber.”
“Fuck you, Mister Jacob, what is this Stuber you speak to me about?”
Donna leaned over to whisper, “Did he just say fuck you?”
“It’s a movie with Kumail Nanjiani,” Jacob explained, taking his phone out to look it up quickly. “It’s a movie about—…well, honestly, it’s pretty much what you just told me. Like, eerily so.”
“Oh,” Vihaan mumbled dejectedly. Any aspiring screenwriter – or any storyteller, really – knows that sometimes your best ideas will have already happened, but still, it always hurts to see that someone got to it first. Vihaan persevered, though. “Well I am also working on a romantic-comedy.”
“Ooh, I love rom-coms,” Donna chirped excitedly.
“What’s it about?”
“Well, it is about an Uber driver – me – who has sex with a beautiful white woman.”
“Solid start, solid start. What happens next?”
“The girl the driver – me – has sex with is stricken with a rare disease,” Vihaan continued with a grin on his face. Jacob, meanwhile, looked concerned as he began looking up something on his phone. “It is very sad, but very, very funny! There is much talk of differing cultures and also Uber and diseases and such as. Oh, so funny.”
“This sounds like The Big Sick,” Jacob realized.
“The Big what?”
“Yeah, check it out, dude,” Jacob said as he leaned forward and stuck his phone towards Vihaan, showing him the poster for The Big Sick.
“What the—…Mister Jacob, how have you found my doppelgänger?”
“That’s Kumail Nanjiani. He’s a Pakistani comedian,” Jacob explained. Vihaan looked in shock. He couldn’t even keep his eyes on the road. “He’s been in a few movies.”
“He looks like me when I was a small boy. Where did you find this man?!”
Jacob shrugged. “Movies.”
Vihaan tried to keep his world from completely falling apart while Jacob slowly pulled his phone back. All of Vihaan’s ideas were already done, apparently. This was a real gut punch. “Well, it is fine. That man is not Indian like me. We are very different.”
“I’d say you guys really look alike, but I don’t want to be seen as racist. Is it racist to say you think alike?”
“FUCKING SHIT!” roared Vihaan, slamming the steering wheel and scaring everyone inside the car, including himself as he had to quickly correct the car.
“Whoa, dude, what is it?!”
“How am I going to be a famous movie star if everyone steals my ideas?! Damn you, Mister Jacob!”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Damn you!”
“I think my water just broke,” Donna said suddenly.
Vihaan suddenly calmed down. “That’s okay, Miss Donna, there are more bottles for your pleasure in the back of my seat. Just please do not spill too much on the floors.”
“No, no, I mean—”
“What is that smell?” Vihaan wondered as a smile slowly crept onto his face. “Smells slightly sweet. Do one of you naughties have some lollies for Vihaan?!”
“Holy shit, she’s having a baby!”
“Baby? What is this?”
Vihaan looked back and saw that both Donna’s seat and the floor beneath her were absolutely soaked, along with her dress. He suddenly screamed. Donna screamed back out of surprise. Jacob also screamed, but just because everyone screaming freaked him out. Without anyone watching the road, everyone screamed for several moments.
“Man, get us to a hospital!” Jacob yelled in a panic. “Quick! Pedal to the metal!”
“I—…I ca—…Mister Jacob, they have not added extra stops to the app yet,” Vihaan said as he finally turned back to the road, thankfully and perhaps miraculously having not killed anyone while he was screaming his head off. “We must finish the trip and then I can take you to the hospital.”
“What?! Are you fucking kidding me, dude?! Take us to the hospital, now!”
“Jake,” Donna said pleadingly through increasingly hastened breaths, “I’m starting to panic! I don’t wanna have this baby in the back of this car!”
Vihaan imagined the miracle of birth happening in the back seat. So much mess. So much baby. So much money. “No, please, do not! We have not added the cleaning fee feature either, Miss Donna! Please do not soil in the Ferrari!”
Jake grabbed Vihaan by his shoulder and spoke through gritted teeth. “Drive us to the fucking hospital!”
Suddenly, Vihaan’s ringer went off through the speakers. He looked down at the hands-free display to see Jordan’s name and number pop up. He gasped.
“Mister Jacob, please hold on, Miss Jordan is calling me.”
“Who the fuck is Miss Jordan?!”
“We have not spoken in one month, I must answer, she may need me!” He pressed a button on the wheel to answer the call. In an attempt to make Jordan think everything was okay in his life specifically without her, he answered in a tone to indicate that he was not terribly interested in talking to her. “Oh. Hello, Miss Jordan. What are you wanting from me?”
“Hey, V, it’s been awhile,” her voice rang throughout the Ferrari. She sounded melancholy. She sounded like she missed him. “How’ve ya been?”
“Oh, you know how it is, Miss Jordan. I—”
“Oh, God, please hold this baby in!” Donna cried out.
“Please, just take us to the hospital, man,” Jacob begged. “Please!”
Vihaan shushed the two.
“Umm…everything okay, V?”
“Yes, of course, I am just very busy at my new job that I took without you,” Vihaan said not-very-confidently. “What do you need?”
“TAKE US TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL!”
“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to come to Breakdown with me this week,” Jordan said. “We’re leading into Taking Hold of the Flame, and—”
“Yes, I know this,” Vihaan interrupted as Jacob tried his best to calm his wife in the backseat. “There are many internet rumors that I am entering to defend my battle royal championship.”
“Rumors?”
“Dirty sheets.”
“Dirt sheets?”
“But the truth is that I cannot come since I am so busy with my new job, so whoever is reporting this is a damn liar!”
“I’M HAVING A PANIC ATTACK!” Donna shouted at the top of her lungs. “I’M HAVING A PANIC ATTACK WHILE I’M HAVING MY BABY!”
“V, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” Jordan said, a little bit louder than usual to try and make sure she was heard over the blood curdling screams. “I’ve been having a rough go of it as of late, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You’ve been there for me when I needed it, I should have been there for you.”
“Yes, Miss Jordan…remember when you gave me two thousand dollars to be your friend?” Vihaan recalled wistfully. “That is what friends are for. To be there to take your money to hang out. That is what I wish from you.”
“I know, I know…”
“HOLY SHIT, IS THAT A HEAD?!” Jacob yelped, flinging himself against his door in an attempt to get away. He darted his head around to get a better look. “OH, NO, I DON’T THINK IT IS! FUCK! I THOUGHT YOU WERE CROWNING! OH, MY GOD!”
“Well, it sounds like you’re busy,” Jordan said in what was a gross understatement.
“Yes…”
“And I guess that since you aren’t coming to Breakdown, I’ll just have to find a different ride.”
“A different ride…?”
“Well, yeah, I gotta get to the arena,” she said. Vihaan’s hands gripped the wheel tighter. She was cheating on him. “I just hope that he drives as fast and as…uh…safely?…as you…”
“Miss Jordan, I—…you must be careful.”
“It’s okay, I heard that Lyft just settled a lawsuit. Something about how they were endangering their customers, so…I’ll have to assume that they’re safer than ever before.”
“Lyft?! You are using bloody Lyft?! The devil uses Lyft!”
“Anyway, I gotta go, so—”
“No, Miss Jordan! No,” Vihaan growled while shaking his head furiously. “If you are going to SCW Breakdown, then you will need the best driver! A driver who will risk his life to protect you in such dangerous environments!”
“Oh, no, I totally agree, it’s just that if you won’t take me…then I’ll have to find someone—”
“I will take you!”
“Huh?”
“I will bloody take you to SCW Breakdown! I will take you to SCW Take The Flame! And I will put my body on the line to help you win the flame! If Miss Jordan needs Vihaan, then Vihaan is bloody there!”
“But your new job—”
“Fuck my job! Fuck cousin Vijaan! Fuck his daddy! Fuck We Come 2 U!”
“What?”
“PLEASE, LADY, TELL THIS MAN TO TAKE US TO THE FUCKING EMERGENCY ROOM, MY WIFE IS LITERALLY ABOUT TO PLOP OUR FIRST BORN ONTO THE FLOOR OF THIS FERRARI!”
Vihaan looked back at the scene in the back. It was unpleasant. He looked into Jacob’s eyes with determination. “I will take care of you,” he whispered heroically before turning back towards the road. “Miss Jordan, I will contact you later. For now, I must do what I do best…”
“Oh, by the way, Cookie will be there because she’s getting ready to host the pay-per-view or something,” Jordan quickly added. “Okay, see ya later!”
The call disconnected and a smile appeared on Vihaan’s face. “Miss Cookie,” he whispered quietly to himself. A single tear of joy fell from his eye.
“CAN YOU PLEASE STOP CALLING YOUR FRIENDS AND JUST TAKE US TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL?! HOLY SHIT! I AM GOING TO SUE THE SHIT OUT OF THIS COMPANY!”
“I don’t have friends,” Vihaan began, once again sounding like he was at a table reading. “I have family. The most important thing in life will always be the people in this room. Right here, right now.”
“MOTHERFUCKER, ARE YOU QUOTING VIN DIESEL RIGHT NOW?! PLEASE, JUST DRIVE US TO THE HOSPITAL!”
“I live my life a quarter-mile at a time. Nothing else matters, not the mortgage, not the—”
“FUCKING DRIVE!”
Closing the app, Vihaan did as he was instructed. He did what he always did. He did what he did best. He drove.
While the paramedics took Donna away, Jacob repeatedly cursed Vihaan’s existence as he stood with a stupid smile on his face in the emergency room waiting bay. The paramedics had to restrain Jacob, but Vihaan paid it no mind as he watched Donna and Jacob be taken away under very different circumstances. He was just pleased to have helped another set of customers, not as an employed driver of We Come 2 U, but as a man. As Vihaan.
The smile stayed on his face as he went to the trunk of the car and pulled out a tire iron. With the smile still on his face, he began ruthlessly thrashing the car with the tire iron. Even the horrified screams of innocent bystanders and paramedics were not enough to wipe that damn smile from his face.
A shattered windshield. A detached side mirror. A dented rim. A ripped off handle. A busted grill. And baby juices all over the backseat.
It was all so beautiful.
The smile remained embedded on his face even when he grabbed a jerry can from the trunk. With full force, he fired the tire iron into the back window, shattering it on impact. Opening the can, he began to pour the remaining gasoline into the back window and then all over the car, making sure to get it on the interior as well.
After tossing the jerry can to the side after completely soaking the entire car, he ripped a piece of his uniform off and shoved it in the open fuel tank, making sure a good bit of it was hanging out. As he reached into the glove box, someone finally decided to step up to him to stop him, but immediately backed off when Vihaan came out of the car with a demented smile on his face while wielding a zippo lighter.
Vihaan flicked the lighter and took a moment to stare in the emerging flame. It held such power. He held it towards the scrap of uniform hanging from the fuel tank until it was lit. After getting a good flame going, he tossed the lit zippo inside the car, quickly engulfing the inside in flames.
He backed up far away from the lit car. He could feel the heat of the building flames while he pulled his phone out and began to FaceTime Vijaan. It only took a single ring until Vijaan’s smug face appeared on his phone.
“Cousin Vihaan? Is that you? I cannot see your face, only blackness.”
Vihaan slid his thumb off of the camera, revealing his smiling face to his cousin. “Sorry, cousin, I have large thumbs,” he said, still grinning. “It is who I am. Just like an Uber driver is what I am.”
“What? Cousin, dispatch is saying you have not finished your ride. What is going on over there?”
“Let me show you,” Vihaan said as he turned the phone towards the flaming Ferrari. Without being able to see his cousin’s face, the only reaction he got was the pained cries of Vijaan from the speakers of the phone. “Look at it, cousin! Look at it and smile!”
“What the bloody hell is the matter with you?!” Vijaan yelled right into the receiver. “You know how much these cars cost us!”
“You are right, cousin Vijaan,” Vihaan said as he turned the phone back towards himself. He could now physically see how much emotional pain Vijaan was in. “I do know how much it has cost us. It has cost us our freedom!”
“What?! Cousin, what is happening?!”
“I quit! I quit We Come 2 U! I will no longer be ruled by your bloody taxi knockoff! This is America, cousin!”
“The cops will shoot you, cousin Vihaan! You are being an anarchist!”
“No,” Vihaan said calmly, still smiling. It hadn’t left his face since Jordan called. “I am being free.”
“Free?! You have cost us hundreds of thousands of dollars!”
“When we moved to America, we did it to live a better life,” Vihaan continued. “We were no longer to be held down by India. We were to live in the land of the free. Cousin Vijaan, I love you. You are my family and I love you.”
“I…thank you, cousin,” Vijaan mumbled, not really sure how to feel. “I love you as well.”
“I love you, despite how much I hate you. Miss Jordan, she called me for help. She always needs help. She is a silly girl, but she reminded me that it makes me happy to be there for her. This is why I have set the car on fire. It is a symbol. We cannot be held down by these cars or this company. We must live free. We must work for Uber!”
“But cousin, Uber is still a corporation! What you are saying makes no sense!”
“And I must work for Miss Jordan! And Miss Cookie, too, if she needs it! If she needs a co-host for Take The Flame, then I will be there! If Miss Jordan needs someone to help her, then I will be there! Because I am a free man once again! God bless America, cousin! God bless—”
The car exploded abruptly. Vihaan jolted back and fell on his backside, looking into the fiery explosion that he had caused. Finally, the smile fell off of his face. It was much more startling than he expected.
However, the smile slowly came back as he looked into the flames and saw a vision. A vision of the future.
There he was, holding a championship belt for winning Taking Hold of the Flame, even though they don’t actually give you a belt for winning that. It was draped over his shoulder as he drove his Cadillac Escalade. At his side was Mummy. Behind him in the backseat were Jordan and Cookie. Even Vijaan was there, squeezed in between the two ladies. Vihaan’s sister wasn’t there because screw her.
In the fire, he saw his future. He saw what he wanted. What he always wanted. He didn’t want more money or a fancier car, at least not at the cost of his freedom.
He just wanted to be with the people that he cared for so he could be there to help them whenever they needed.
Unless what they needed was help starting a business that took away his free time, because fuck that.
Vihaan slowly stood up and looked away from the fire. “Cousin Vijaan, I am sending you a request on the app for a ride,” he said while he began to bring up the app. “I have torched my way home. I did not think ahead.”
Vijaan sighed. “Okay, cousin,” he said with a shake of his head. “I shall see you soon.”
VIHAAN VIDEO PROMOTION FOR SUPREME CHAMPIONSHIP OF WRESTLING TAKE THE FLAME
“For many, many years, Hollywood has struggled with sequels,” Vihaan’s voice spoke over a black screen, though not totally black because he was actually just holding his thumb over the lens because he didn’t know how to make a still black frame on his video editing program. “The Matrix Reloaded. Big Momma’s House 2. Son of The Mask. Speed 2. Meet the Fuckers with Ben Stiller. The list goes on.”
Vihaan pauses dramatically. We can clearly hear him flipping a page over, likely the script he’s reading from. There was no effort to mute the sound of the pages, nor his heavy breathing into the microphone as he leaned over to read his next set of lines.
“But sometimes, the world is gifted with a sequel that is even better than the first. Terminator 2. The Dark Knight. Spider-Man 2. Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. Toy Story 2. Little Fuckers with Ben Stiller. The list goes on.”
Again, the shuffling of papers. Again, the heavy breathing of Vihaan.
“But what creates a great sequel? It is a set of circumstances. A series of events that lead to an unmatched passion that can defeat the curse of a sophomore slump. Sometimes all it takes is one…bad…day.”
Vihaan’s finger whips off of the lens to reveal him standing in front of the camera. He is shirtless and angrily flexing his muscles.
“Let me show you my bad day,” he says menacingly as he can, which really isn’t that menacing despite how angry his muscles scream through the screen.
We cut to black and white footage. In the frame is Vihaan’s Cadillac Escalade. It’s clear that this is backstage at the latest episode of Breakdown. Clint Mansell’s “Lux Aeterna” begins to play as the footage rolls, setting an eerie sort of mood to everything. The haunting strings of the piece slowly begin to build. Vihaan walks into frame with a devastated look on his face.
The two lead strings begin playing as Vihaan’s voice comes over the footage. The volume on his voice is so loud that it’s really ruining the ambience of the score.
“This was the darkest day of my life,” he recites over the footage with great sorrow. “This is the day when I learned that my place of work, my home, and the inanimate love of my life was taken from me.”
The score begins to build as Vihaan opens the back door. He sticks his head in, but immediately recoils. He literally gags.
“Oh, goodness,” he cries through continued gags. The voice in the footage itself is actually too quiet, so the music mostly overpowers it, an interesting contrast to the voice over. “It smells like Tommy Christmastime and Miss Kandis made sex in here!” The score gets to a quiet part as Vihaan dares to shove his head back in. It builds right back up as he once again recoils. “The smells, they are unfortunate! It smells like the time I did Uber Eats and left the MacDonald’s in the hot bag for too long! It smells like—” He stops to gag loudly. Whoever is filming can also be heard gagging, just because Vihaan’s aggressive and excessive gagging is kind of just as disgusting as the scene he was setting. “It smells like two hookers have had sex in a den of crack!” Vihaan reaches in and pulls out a whip. “What the bloody hell is this?!”
“But this is not only about me,” the voice over continues. “My baby was used for evil. A vehicle that has brought me and my clients much joy over the last year was used as a tool of evil!”
The footage cuts. We see a dark stain on the inside of one of the back doors. Vihaan leans down to inspect it. He wipes the stain with his finger before running his finger across his tongue. A few lip smacks are thankfully muted underneath the powerful score.
“The blood of Mister David,” he says. “Hm. Very sweet.” He pinches the edge of the door and peels something off. It looks to be a stringy piece of flesh. “The skin of Mister David.” Again, he tastes it for some reason. “Yes, definitely,” he says as he flicks it away.
He stands up and sees a much lighter shade of a stain on the back seat. He touches it and goes to bring it to his tongue to investigate, but a hand reaches out from behind the camera and stops him.
“Um, maybe don’t do that for that one,” the voice of Cookie suggests. “I think that belongs to…well, not one of us.”
Vihaan dusts his hands off and gags again. Cookie gags in response. In the distance, someone’s gag reflex is also triggered.
“But that was not enough,” the voice over came back. “They needed to add insult to literal injury.”
Cookie gets a good shot of the front area on the interior. Vihaan climbs in the driver’s seat and inspects everything. He gasps when he notices something missing. The score has now reached its climax after some shoddy cutting of about three minutes of the song.
“Those sick bloody bastards! They stole my radio!”
Cookie cautiously climbs in and shows that the radio has been taken out of the car. She pans up to see an air freshener. “Hey, at least they left this,” she says as she leans in to smell it. “Oh. That stinks like gimp. Nevermind.”
“Why is the gear stick sticky?!” Cookie moves the camera to the gear stick as Vihaan grips it. “What has happened here, Miss Cookie?!”
The footage cuts abruptly. The score begins to settle down and fade out all at once. We see that the tires are missing their rims. A circling shot seems to show that one rim was left – the back right tire.
“Why the bloody hell did they leave one rim on?! What kind of sick mind games are these monsters playing?! Why, Miss Cookie?! Why?!”
Vihaan’s voice echoes repeatedly as the footage cuts to black.
We return to the present, where Vihaan stands shirtless still.
“Hello. My name is Vihaan.” A name bar that he spent about seven hours on in Photoshop pops up underneath him. It is poorly done. It flickers in and out before suddenly disappearing. “You may recognize me from SCW End of the Year Special, where I won the championship of battle royals. You may also recognize me from Jordan Majors.” An unflattering picture of Jordan Majors pops up briefly. It looks to be taken by Vihaan without Jordan’s knowledge. “Or perhaps Miss Cookie.” Cookie’s cleavage suddenly takes up the entire screen. It stays this way for several seconds. Finally, Vihaan returns.
“But forget about what you have learned about me. Last time I was here, I told everyone who I was. I was a happy Uber driver trying to get my mummy to America while also trying to embarrass my evil cousin Vijaan by getting a car that was better than his. I will tell you good news. Mummy has arrived.” A selfie of Vihaan and his mother pops up. It’s actually quite sweet. “And Vijaan is still evil because he is jealous of my SCW success.” An artist’s rendition of Vijaan as Satan takes up half of the screen. There are some embarrassing flame effects surrounding the photo, which was made by a fan on Twitter as evidenced by their handle being visible on the art. A stock evil laugh sound is played over the footage. Not all at once, all the art disappears.
“But much has changed!” he continues, a bit angrier now. His veins become more prominent. “My car has been legally totaled! All because I chose to come support Miss Cookie in her hosting of SCW Take The Flame and Miss Jordan in her sad life! Well, guess what, Miss Minerva and friends?! You have awoken the beast!”
Vihaan stands there with his mouth open, looking like he’s roaring to the gods, but he’s not making any sound or anything. This goes on for several moments until finally the effects work and he suddenly breathes blue fire. A low quality sound clip of Godzilla’s roar also plays. Vihaan finally stops silently roaring like an idiot.
“I know what you are all thinking. Sequels suck. You are thinking this because I told you this, you see. But I also told you that sometimes they do not suck! I am here to tell you that Vihaan is coming back to SCW! But this will not be a Big Momma’s House 2, oh no! Like Arnold says in Terminator 2, I will be back! Yes, I will! I will be The Dark Knight of SCW! Like Peter Parker in Spider-Man 2, I will find my true self and become stronger for it! Because the sequel to Vihaan will be a great success! Godfather Part II!”
The footage cuts to an illegally acquired rip of the End of the Year Special. The video is flipped in order to fool the copyright algorithm. It’s also muted. We see Vihaan doing decently enough in the battle royal at the event. After Ricky James clobbers Asher Hayes with a kendo stick, Vihaan hits him with a splash for the win. The footage of his celebration continues as Vihaan’s voice comes back over.
“As you see there, I have defeated current co-Mega Champion Mister Asher. However, I was disappointed to learn that this does not make me Mega Champion. In order to become that, I must first defeat 39 other people to earn the right to face the Mega Champion once again, as well as his fat, hairy friend, Mister Cidney. Unless he loses to Miss Elsa, in which case she will ask me, ‘do you wish to build a snowman, Mister Vihaan?’ To which I will say, ‘no, but I wish to destroy one,’ followed by a magnificent attack on her to defeat her.
I did not want to do this. I was living a happy life with my Cadillac Escalade. I am simply a man pushed to the edge. They have destroyed my livelihood! Mummy says I will need to go back to my Honda Civic! This is humiliation, my friends!
I will not allow it. I will win SCW Take The Flame. Miss Cookie has told me that there is no large cash bonus for winning such things. There are also no vehicles given to the winner. All the winner gets is a once in a lifetime opportunity to win the Mega Championship in front of one hundred thousand people to prove to their parents that becoming a wrestler was a good career choice.
When she told me this, I spat near her foot. Why would I want this? I am proud to drive Uber. I am proud to drive Miss Jordan and Miss Cookie. Miss Minerva had convinced me to fight her inside the ring when she made the mistake of destroying my Cadillac Escalade, but after learning that I get next to nothing, I began to question whether or not it was even worth it!
Then I realized. Yes. It is worth it, Vihaan. Because what happens when a fellow Uber driver suddenly loses his vehicle to a band of freaks in latex? What if they lose their car, like I did? They see me on TV. They see me not fight back because I think it is not worth it unless I get much money.
No.
I shall prove that you cannot simply destroy a man’s vehicle and get away with it! I will use my fury to thrust myself into the spotlight and destroy everything laid before me! I will kill Miss Jordan! I will kill Miss Cookie! I will—”
The footage abruptly cuts. After a moment of darkness, we return to see Vihaan standing back in front of the camera. He is still shirtless.
“Okay, take two, let us not threaten Miss Jordan and Miss Cookie with death,” he whispers to himself way too loudly.
“I will destroy everything laid before me! Whether it be a very small blonde woman or whether it be Fat Derek, I will end them! And when it comes to Miss Minerva or Mister Konrad, I will show them what it is like to have something taken from you! Miss Kandis and Tommy Christmastime…I do not wish to touch them. Well, maybe I will touch Miss Kandis. But that bloody Mister Tommy better back off!
The last time I achieved victory, I did it for my family and friends. I did it for myself as well. But at SCW Take The Flame, I do not do it for anyone except the audience watching at home. Because this bloody Sunday, I prove that you cannot just take a man’s vehicle and make sex in it and steal the radio! Not in America, you cannot! I also prove that not all sequels are bad! Go see A Quiet Place Part II, now in cinemas, but only after you watch Vihaan Part II, only on pay-per-view! I shall take the flame for you, America!”
Vihaan roars and flexes. This time, the effects show up rather quickly, but they disappear about as quickly as they appeared and Vihaan is left standing there like a moron again. The scene slowly fades to black.
In the darkness, a picture of Vihaan and his Cadillac Escalade appears with the subtext:
RIP 2021 CADILLAC ESCALADE
MAY THEY HAVE PETROL IN HEAVEN
VIHAAN 