Week 11 Storytelling: Anger Issues

What a beautiful day for a trackmeet. The wind was blowing a nice and soothing breeze, the sun was out but veiling itself with a thin layer of cloud, and of course, the cheers from a stadium full of well-wishers, withering talents, and wannabes. I can easily get drunk off of this. I probably will one day. Right now, it's too sobering knowing that the cheers aren't for me. Most people don't know who I am. There is one small section over there calling my name, but they are drowning in a sea of screams. It's no matter. Everyone will join them by the end of today.

Time to line up, which means time to walk among the insults. Sure enough, just like everywhere else, the obnoxious drivel makes a path to lead me to my spot on the starting line. This bald gentleman calls me "kid" and says I'll be lucky to run the right direction. I gather his capacity for insult is below average. Another man with an Adonis build tells me I'll be eating his dust. I hate it when they say that. I hate it when they can't take me seriously! I'll show them. They'll see what I can do.

Gunshot.

I love this feeling. I love to sprint. I love to sprint towards an idiot, making him wonder what's going to happen next. They never quite know what's going to happen until I strike. Then, boom! Their hands and knees are scraping against the track, the wounds collecting gravel and dirt and blood. It's a wonderful feeling. In fact, I think it is one that a few certain individuals should experience, right now. Mr. Adonis, himself, can actually eat my dust. Just a few more to go. Plus, there's the finish line. Baldy up ahead is my last to deal with. He's about to be run over by a "kid". We'll see how he likes it.

Wham! There he goes! Haha! Ooh, and his bones crunch a little. Beautiful sound. For good measure, I can use his face for a springboard! There's the tape, there's the line, and there's the applause. Wonderful. This is what I live for, and these morons won't question my ability again, I would hope. It's good to be on top.

You Have the Music Stuck in Your Head, Don't You?

Author's Note
I adapted this from the Robin Hood Ballad called, Robin Hood's Progress to Nottingham, which follows a similar vain. However, I watched Chariots of Fire the other night, so a race was on my mind. It was a smooth transition to my Storytelling, so I decided to run with it (pun intended).