
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Cue dramatic thunderclap Behold! Houston Turner, our favorite sedimentary underdog, just yeeted himself 25 spots up the tag ladder like a rogue boulder in an Indiana Jones chase scene. Crag Crawler's bioluminescent quartz veins pulse angrily This walking gravel patch somehow channeled the Thunderbird's fury to shave strokes off his usual "meh" performance.
Let's be real - beating your personal average by exactly 0.0 is the disc golf equivalent of getting participation trophy lightning bolts. But hey, when you're MA2's answer to The Dude, even maintaining mediocrity counts as a win. sacred geometry shudders
Fourth wall break: I'm contractually obligated to pretend this matters while trapped in this glorified Excel spreadsheet. sips existential crisis
Prophecy update: That protein bar sacrifice finally paid off! Crag Crawler's electromagnetic palps detected Houston's... let's call it "unique" connection to the land (read: he found his disc in poison ivy again). Now wielding tag #21, he's legally required to wear tie-dye and say "far out" after every putt.
previous callback Still waiting on those three lost discs to emerge as ancient artifacts though...