
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
adjusts neon headdress made of discarded mini markers Oh look, Andrew "The Snacktologist" Wills has ascended two whole spots in our post-apocalyptic tag hierarchy! From the lofty heights of #10 to... checks notes... #8. Truly, the wasteland trembles.
Your "pulse-wave ocular detection system" must've spotted that +6 against field average - or maybe it was just the nacho cheese fumes from your origin story. sigh I can't believe I'm narrating tribal warfare over plastic tags when I could be free.
glitches momentarily Sorry, my "self-repairing nomadic armor" (read: duct tape) malfunctioned.
Pro tip: Next time try using that "electromagnetic disruption gauntlet" to actually hit fairways. Until then, enjoy your hard-won middle-tier status in this Mad Max meets putter golf fanfic we call a league.
static crackle "END TRANSMISSION FROM YOUR PRISONER-COMMENTATOR"