I was going to wait until the original story was off the front page, but it's been two days, I'm tired of waiting.

Anyway, because some of you guys asked me to write another one of these, and because I feel that the story isn't finished, I'm going to write Part Two of what I probably ought to call 64DET (Sixty-Four Digits En Text). But that's lame, so I won't call it that. For now it shall remain nameless, much like our mysterious protagonist.

The skater's defiant grin slowly became an angry frown as he realized that nobody cared about what he had just done. A man crawled over to him, completely drunk, and patted him on the shoulder, show his appreciation. The man then threw up, recolouring the skater's shirt.

Our hero couldn't help but snigger at the skater's misfortune. Unfortunately for him, the skater's hearing aid was turned up.

The skater came up to him and started swearing at him. He didn't respond. This further enraged the skater, who was going red in the face by this time. The skater picked up a nearby wrench, and, with a cry of warning, brought it down on our hero's head.

However, it didn't go all the way down. At the last minute, it had been grabbed. Our hero looked up at his saviour.

The wrench-grabber was a man in blue, whose clothes looked as if they had been red at one stage, but got dyed. More attention-attracting than that, however, was that he was mounted on a dirtbike.

The skater had been taken by surprise by the man on the dirtbike. But he soon regained his composure, and let go of the wrench. He then calmly challenged the dirtbike rider to a race. Skateboard versus dirtbike.

As soon as this challenge was uttered, the surrounding crowds stopped what they had been doing and gathered around the skater and the dirtbike rider. Every frequent Sausagefest customer loves a good sporting event.

A man made out of fire, a man with a blue mask over his head, the large fox who killed the three-headed man, and a knight in reflective, flashing armour came out from behind the crowd, and stood a few metres away from the skater and the dirtbiker.

The knight walked up to the two challengers. Being some sort of authority figure to the people of the crowd, he decreed that this race would go ahead. The loser would be banned from ever coming back to Sausagefest, and the winner would get a slave, who would do his bidding. The skater and the dirtbike rider agreed to this, but wanted to know who the slave would be.

The knight looked around for a time. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and, with a swift slicing motion, he pointed his index finger in our hero's direction.

This time, the cigarette fell out of his mouth completely.

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Guess this means I'm going to have to make another one. I certainly can't leave things like this.

Anyway, I hope no-one minds that I didn't make a lot of references this time, but I couldn't. I'll try harder next time.

F1ak3r