“All right, everybody!” Mr. Blockbuster announced to the crowd. “I’m very proud to present this glorious faux-bronze popcorn-box trophy to the champion of the one-time-only Blockbuster Video Game—”

“NO!” I screamed. “THERE’S ONE MORE ROUND! I WANT SAVAGE!”

These would be the real finals. My own private finals.

Mr. B and Fred Savage just kinda looked at each other. My parents, who were sitting in the fifth row, sighed audibly—like, I could actually hear them over the deafening music.

“But, uh…,” Mr. B said nervously. “You already won. You’re the champion. There is no other round.”

“NO!” I yelled. “ME AGAINST SAVAGE! RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!”

“But-but I’m just the honorary master of ceremonies,” Fred Savage stammered. “I’m horrible at video games!”

“NO! I SAW THE WIZARD! YOU CAN’T TRICK ME!”

“But I’m not even the character who was good at video games in The Wizard—he was played by my costar, Luke Edwards. And he’s horrible at video games in real life too!”

“I DON’T CARE! I WANT TO BATTLE YOU NOWWWWWWWW!”

They all covered their ears because they couldn’t handle my volcanic anger. My parents looked absolutely humiliated. Even war correspondent Wolf Blitzer looked uncomfortable. So what? I was on a mission!

“Look, son,” Mr. B said. “Can we please just give you your trophy so we can all go home and make it a Blockbuster night?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Can you?”

And at that moment I reached into my bag and pulled out my ace in the hole. I held up my overdue copy of The Wizard.

“And the name isn’t ‘son,’ ” I said, “it’s Doctor-octor-octor Disrespect-ect-ect-ect.”

Mr. B gasped and whipped out the scanning gun he carried at all times. He read the bar code and his face went pale.

“I’m sorry, Fred,” he said. “This is a problem. This overdue charge is higher than the value of Blockbuster LLC. This puts everything on the line!”

I laughed long and loud, the greatest diabolical-evil-villain laugh ever produced by an eleven-year-old boy. Then I stopped suddenly and looked at them both, dead serious.

“We settle this with trial by combat. Me against Savage. If I win, I get the video for keeps—and I get Fred Savage’s Lamborghini. If I lose, I’ll return the video that is now worth more than your whole company.”

Fred Savage crinkled his nose like a precocious child actor. “What? How do you even know I have a Lambo? Who did you say you are?”

“Trust me,” I said with a smirk. “After I’m done kicking your ass, you’ll never forget.”