Entry on the Stack

I cruised over to the community hall steps just as the evening lights flickered on, holding that folded tournament flier tight under my arm. Knuckles was parked right by the check-in table near the entrance, leaning over a wooden sign-in clipboard like a brick wall. When I slid my miniature fingerboard up to the desk edge and slapped my registration slip down right atop the growing stack of entrant forms, he gave a gruff nod and pinned it down with a heavy red paperweight. My name is locked in. Time to see who really brings the heat tomorrow.