The Race

I stepped out of the station and grimaced at the violent wind that pummeled me harder than a Thai masseuse.

Damn, this weather was wild. At least it wasn't raining, yet.

I hitched up my collar and leaned forward into the wind for the dull five-minute walk to the office.

At a crossing, I stopped and waited with a few other desperate looking souls trying to stay upright in the insane wind.

I vaguely recognised some random dude standing to my right as a Project Manager from my office, Chalky.

I gave him the Man-Nod and made to ignore him.

To my abject horror, he smiled and started opening his mouth as if to initiate a conversation.

What the fuck? It was first thing in the morning. I hadn't had a coffee yet and I barely knew him, surely he wasn't going to subject me to polite small talk all the way to the office?

No chance.

The lights turned to red and before the traffic could come to a complete halt, I was off, zipping ahead to make sure there was no way that Chalky would catch me up and start chatting about his fucking dog or some other twoddle.

Phew, that was a close one.

Suddenly, I sensed movement on my right.

It was Chalky.

He had a face on as if he was trying to shit out a whole lobster and was struggling with the tail.

Worse yet, he was catching up.

I poured some more juice into my legs and increased my speed to stay in front.

Chalky did likewise, his legs flailing furiously as he began closing in on me.

Holy fucking cowshit? Was he trying to race me? He must be at least fifty years old? How dare he pit his might against a young and bucksome stallion such as myself?

I let out a muffled neigh and dialled up the speed.

So did Chalky.

The scenery started to blur as we hurtled along the path to the office, my breath coming in great snorts like a Welshman making love to his overweight wife.

The crazy wind whipped at us as we flew along, bystanders gawking at the sight as we blitzed along the street.

My ever-splendid thighs, whipped back and forth like meaty sex-pistons as my pace increased to terrible speeds never witnessed before in the realms of man.

And yet the fibrous old fool Chalky still gained on me.

He was almost at my shoulder and the entrance to the office was closing in rapidly. I was running out of time and my energy levels were depleting rapidly.

Shit?! Was he going to win?

Almost as if he could hear my thoughts he snarled and put some more welly into it. Drawing level and then, horrifyingly beginning to inch ahead.

NOOOOO?! This could not be?! An old man? Beating the Boom? This was not possible.

This was NOT acceptable.

I poured everything into my fury-walk. Every last ounce of strength I had.

We were neck and neck again.

As the office doors approached ever closer, a mighty rain began to fall, the wind lashing it into my face as if it were contemptuous jizzum from the Old Gods.

The office doors were less than fifty feet away now.

Chalky showed no signs of flagging. It was as if the rain had energised his old bones. He flashed a look my way, it was a sneering look of victory. Once more he began to edge out in front.

I didn't have anything left to give.

He was unstoppable.

He was going to win.

There was no way I could beat him. Was there..?

Quickly, I stabbed a hand into my bag and in one deft motion pulled out my cheap PoundLand umbrella. It was a disgrace to umbrellas, a cheap plastic flimsy thing. There was no way you could raise something like it in this wind.

To my right I saw Chalky's eyes widen in shock. I could see what he was thinking as plain as day.

Only a MADMAN would open an umbrella in this wind!

I set my mouth in a grim line and jabbed the release button.

The umbrella shot forward and almost in the same instant exploded backward as the wind turned it inside out, I flinched as it flew to my right.

Chalky squawked like an old loser who had been bested by a spunky young flibbertigibbet and fell behind me entangled in the wreckage of my flimsy brolly.

I slapped a hand on the entrance to the office and shoved it open, flinging a look over my shoulder to Chalky now some distance behind.

Maybe next time, punk.