[Editor’s note: This won’t make any sense unless you read Part 1 first.]
‘Wait, young lady. You can’t leave until we, the people of Ohmyhooha, have properly thanked you for this wonderous gift.’ He indicated the wreckage that was
‘Oh, uh, no need to thank me.’
‘No, no. We must!’ insisted the mayor.
The mayor beamed. ‘By sending you off with a song, of course!’
At that moment, all the
midgets townspeople began to sing, ‘You’re off to the see the Wizards...’
The crowd fell silent and the mayor stepped forward. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I can’t take the singing. I hate musicals. They drive me bonkers.’
‘But we must thank you.’
‘Can’t you all just silently wave at me as I leave?’
The townspeople conferred with one another and decided this was an acceptable alternative. The entire crowd waved at
About a mile into her run,
‘Oooo cool! Going for the sales?’
‘Nope. I’m going to see the Wizards of Blogland.’
‘Whadya need to see them for?’
‘I need a dissertation.’
‘A long-winded piece of writing that will buy me my freedom.’
‘Oh, like divorce papers?’
‘Yeah, something like that.’
‘Well, can I come with you?’
‘Sure. You need to see the wizards too?’
‘Yeah. I need a new crotch.’
‘I was running in a race and 500 meters from the finish, I get passed by this...thing and all of a sudden I had a stabbing pain in my groin area.’ The woman’s eyes began to fill up with tears. ‘I had to crawl to the finish. I was on pace to finish first in my age group too.’ She sniffed.
‘Couldn’t hurt,’ added
The woman nodded in agreement. ‘So, what’s your name, chica?’
‘The name’s Marcy. So, are you ready to go?’
As they walked back onto the road, Marcy began to sing, ‘We’re off to see the W...’
Marcy stopped singing and stared at
‘No singing. This is a Non-Singing trip. Got it?’
‘Okay, chica. Whatever you say,’ placated Marcy.
The two women started down the yellow track road towards
The women stopped and approached the figure.
‘It’s the Thinker,’ said Marcy.
‘No, this is the Drunk I-don’t-want-to-thinker,’ quipped
Slowly coming nearer, the women began to hear the man’s mumblings were a repetition of two words.
‘Wish keys, wish keys...’
‘You’re wishing for keys?’ asked Marcy, perplexed.
‘WISH KEYS!!!,’ yelled the man, his rocking speeding up.
The women scanned the area and quickly spotted a half full bottle of whiskey lying on the ground ten feet from the man. Realizing what he was asking for,
At the sight of his chest, both women gasped in horror.
‘Homeboy, what happened to your nipples?!’
The man looked down sadly at the places where his nipples once resided but now were just ugly red divots. ‘I was racing in a 5K. I PR’d and came in first in my age group. That night I went to the pub to celebrate and saw this hot girl who was also in the race. I chatted her up, thought I had an ‘in’ if you know what a mean. But then this friend of hers shows up. I can’t remember what she looked like, I was too drunk by then, but I end up taking the friend home and the next morning I wake up, she’s gone and I have no nipples.’
‘Dude must have gotten into some kinky shit,’ muttered Marcy.
The man shot her a dirty look.
‘Hey, just saying,’ said Marcy.
‘Who are you two anyway?’
‘Name’s Viper. So, where you guys going?’
‘We’re headed to
‘Huh. Think those guys could help me score some new nipples?’
The women shrugged. ‘Anything’s possible, I guess.’
‘Mind if I join you guys then?’
‘No problem. Just one thing.’
‘Homie, you gotta cover up those craters formerly-known-as-nips. That shit’s just unsightly.’
Viper agreed and begrudgingly used the two My Little Pony band-aids Marcy had in her fuel belt to do the job.
Just as they started to run, Viper began to sing, ‘We’re off to..’
‘What’d I do?’
Marcy looked at him pityingly. ‘Homegirl doesn’t like the singing.’
Viper shrugged indifferently. ‘Whatever.’
With a hard anti-singing glare directed at her travel companions,
(TO BE CONTINUED)
This thing is taking me a lot longer to write than I thought it would. There will end up being multiple parts and it will likely go into next week. I so didn’t plan this well. But at least it gives me the opportunity to entertain some of you and take some well-deserved pot-shots at others.
Most of you are smart cookies, so I’d put money on you guys knowing who I’ve chosen to be the fourth and final member of the disfunctional quartet making its way to Nike Town. Guess away in the comments. It’ll give me something to read as I procrastinate from writing the rest of this story.
On an actual running-related note, I finally got off my lazy arse last night to do my hill repeats. I was supposed to do seven of them. I got in two. Well, not really even them since by the time I had run up most of the hill a bunch of freaking French middle schoolers were swarming the path. They ruined my time on those two repeats (I had to walk for f*ck's sake!) and made me run into the nettle bushes. I hate preteens. Especially French ones. Petits salauds.