It’s been five unBEARable years since the brutish traitor Bolgar cheated his way to a faux WILDCARD championship. But today he was spotted at grungy Lubabub hangout, Arden Roast, still wearing the same pants! That’s all you need to know about this rivalry, my Glitterbugs. Our heartthrob hero Locke spent those years perfecting his tech and honing his strategy. Yet Bolgar couldn’t be bothered to go shopping!

Speaking of our filthy feral foes, FrostHaven Lodge staff are complaining about constant calls from team Bolgar’s rooms. They say the players shed so much fur, moss, and gooey vegetable goop that it’s impossible to keep the shower drains clear! (I know, my Sparkles—Lubabubians actually shower?)

Speaking of the Arena, technicians are quietly promising tamper-proof cannons this time—and we should hope so! My Sparkles will recall that Locke only lost to the Hairy Beary last time because that mendacious mushroom, Spord, clogged his cannon with plops of gloopy glop. A fair game this time? Let’s hope so!

Everyone’s asking “Where’s the King?” Well, I can confirm he’s a no-show!

My Sparkles might wonder why Valla would skip the chance to see Bolgar, his bitter enemy, humiliated at last.

The answer could lie in the would-be humiliator. As you surely recall, Locke the Jock won the Chronos Champion’s mantle fair and square six years ago at the King’s tryouts. Well, that’s the problem! All of Chronos expected former Champion Crown Prince Boone to mop up the commoners! When unknown engineer Locke beat the Special Scion, the King nearly tossed our new champ in the Heat Sink Dungeons! Luckily (Lockily?), an unprecedented wave of Lockemania that swept Chronos stayed the king’s hand.

I hear the only fan of Locke in the whole palace is Princess Neva, who was forbidden by her protective Papa from joining the tryouts, despite her own WILDCARD wherewithal. I guess she didn’t mind seeing her bossy big bro brought low!

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The odd man out in the contremps is, of course, would-be champ Boone! Denizens of the Downspout dive bar report their lager-loving Heir to the Throne has lately told any elbow-bender in earshot that he’s done with the game forever! “If it doesn’t come in a glass, or have a big ___, I got no interest!” he reportedly proclaimed, dropping a less-than-regal word to complete the rhyme.

Having watched that boy positively grow up in the WILDCARD arena, I’m tempted to say our Dashing Dauphin is lying. But that would be treason! And I like my head attached right where it is, merci beaucoup.

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There’s never a dull moment. At least, not when I’m around.

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