Ploughing into the hurdles

He was an athletic machine. His legs pumped like pistons as he sprinted and he was miles ahead of the competition by the time he came to the first hurdle. His legs scissored over each hurdle flawlessly, it looked like he was going to break his own personal best and all around the stadium the crowd started cheering and screaming wildly as they stood up, fists pumping in the air.

Tension was high as he deftly reached into his gay little running shorts and pulled the hip flask out. The spectators all saw it and a hushed silence fell over the stadium as they stared at him, their mouths still hanging open, frowning in confusion.

He turned to his loving audience, winked and tipped the hip flash to his lips, gulping its contents greedily as he leaped over the last few hurdles, already starting to get a little wobbly on his feet.

He sucked the hip flask dry and threw it over his shoulder in a long, slow arc that ended abruptly as it struck one of the other runners in the face.

The crowd gasped in horror. What the hell was he doing?

He turned his head back and focussed his attention on the last two hurdles, but already the booze was taking effect.

He ran straight into the first hurdle without any attempt to jump it whatsoever and came crashing to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs and splintered wood. The crowd gasped a second time and started shouting and booing loudly.

He picked himself up shakily, laughing all the while, limped over to the last hurdle, kicked it flat as the other runners passed him by, and went to lie down on the grass by the side of the track for a bit.

He’d never seen a sky so blue before…

I didn’t post on Saturday or Sunday, the guilt of which is making me feel a little lousy. But in my defence, the party on Saturday was INSANE! One minute everyone’s all cool, all chilled out, next minute everyone’s in the pool going wild!



But more about that later, watch this space 😉


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