Tuesday Showdown: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

Gelsenkirchen, Germany: Adele Fruehauf rose early that Tuesday and marched directly to her breakfast nook where she'd left her iBook. She swept the expense reports aside and logged on to a travel website, where she booked tickets on the next available flight to Toronto. She packed little aside from an umbrella and her credit cards. She'd withdraw Canadian currency later, just enough to purchase clean underwear and a fire axe. 

Mollendo, Peru: The girl had just begun running through the litany of venial sins she'd committed since her last confession when Father Jerome let his rosary slip to the tiles. The girl had borrowed a classmates pencil with no intention of returning it and she'd had questionable thoughts about a cousin, but the priest had long since stopped listening. "Return the pencil and say four Glory Be's, Pilar. God is merciful. Please tell the others to come back next week. I must go and kill a bassist in Canada." 

Warrnambool, Victoria, Australia: It was already Wednesday when Terry Whitehead inadvertently turned off of the Princes Highway, sloshing a day-old iced coffee over his lap. His wife cried out from the back seat. Her water had broken moments earlier, and she flailed about, clutching Terry's headrest. "I'm sorry, Judy," Terry sighed, stepping out of the vehicle. The door stood ajar as he stared down at her stomach. The car began singing that unsettling song it did when the door was left that way.  "I really wanted to be there and cut the cord and all, but I simply must kill Scott Pilgrim today." He jogged along the highway toward the ocean. 

Cape Coast, Ghana: The fish were not biting. Efie had finally coaxed the boy from C-Poly from his studies and out on her father's skiff, and nothing was hungry. Girl and boy smiled at each other under a roiling sun. It was a postcard to all but these two, so awkward, so desperate to graze their fingers against the other's cheek. Or for something to pull at the lines. Something to break the stillness. Efie whistled nervously then. "A song for the fish?" asked the boy. "What shall we do if nothing wants our bait?" She smiled. "We will paddle all the way to Toronto and we will crush Scott Pilgrim together." 

Gangneung, South Korea: An old man kicked a football to his grandson. Really more of a nudge. The boy hurled himself at the thing, blocking the upturned basket. "This is what we shall do with the bassist's head," the boy giggled. The old man unfastened the top of his cane, let slide the thin blade concealed within. "This is what we shall do." 

Brooklyn, New York: A man clutches his chest with mittened hands and drops to his knees. He tries to regain his footing, but a pair of masked strangers stomp him to the ground, one of them reaching into his pocket for any wallet or fistful of cash. "Can we….surely…." Jeff Golfblum mutters, stepping over the crumpled victim. The director hurries over, arms outstretched to stop him from wandering out of the production area. "It's sort of prudent that," Goldblum continues, handing the script supervisor his badge and gun, "that we should possibly get in something like a van or perhaps a trolley, some form of, perhaps a horse…" He's pulling off his jacket now, stepping out of his jeans. A group of students beging raising their iPhones to snap pictures for Gawker. "How do they make a clydesdale?" Goldblum wonders aloud. "With such ankles. It behooves us to…ah, but see what I've done now?" He's wrestling with security, the director sitting on the curb, head in hands. Goldblum leaps as if to fly up and away from the set. "Join me, will you to the north. To, ah, pilgrim to kill Scott Pilgrim. The sex bombs all heaving…heave…"

Toronto, Canada: Scott Pilgrim was running Wallace's laces through his own shoes. Wallace wouldn't mind. Wouldn't notice probably. There was a knock at the door. It didn't open by itself, so he got to his feet and turned the knob. It wasn't Wallace and it wasn't the band. It wasn't Ramona or a delivery guy. It was a German woman with a large axe. And a few billion other people he'd never met. 

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

Who wins?

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