We should be training for our first marathon but don’t feel like going full athletic mode yet so we opted to just casually walk on the far and rather remote side of our subdivision. We did roughly 45 minutes only pausing once in a while to take pictures of oddly fascinating things along the way like countless frogs ran over by countless vehicles, an incredibly fat goat, and some turkeys. It was not within anybody’s definition of eventful as expected but it was refreshing.
We were never sporty. We do play badminton and some volleyball but we never really got serious to encourage a fantasy of joining competitions or clubs. Hell, we don’t even watch games on TV. Okay, we won bronze in badminton in an intramurals once. But who would not if you played with somebody who seemed like he was just dragged, maybe literally, into the court to represent their level? We were a freshman then. And oh, we won gold in another intramurals when we were a junior. It was volleyball. We were that creepy new guy who just transferred that year. Looking back, it’s rather odd that a piteously skinny person like us actually experienced winning in two different sports.
The thing is, we always thought we’re never meant to be sporty. And right now we still think we are. We were probably born with a pair of lungs that was a loaner until the owner forgot about it. At the age of eight, the doctor said we got a weak pair. That sucked. We are naturally agile (maybe being borderline underweight has something to do about it) and can run like the wind. But with a stamina that can only last for a minute or two, we’re practically useless in the court. Also, our mom prohibited us from joining any contact sport. And so our talent (there’s no way it can count as skill, also, read A Spell for Chameleon) was simply added in our list of survival capabilities. If we cannot stop a raging bull, we can probably outrun it and get to safety.
And so we walked. We are planning to run in the same area in the coming weeks so we better get it surveyed we thought. We should know where the good dogs are and where the Cujo-hostile ones lurk. We should know whether a stick would suffice to ward them off or a shotgun and buckshot are necessary. We found out that we could silence some of them with a stare though. They probably saw an image of Pinhead in us saying “We’ll tear your soul apaaart.” We wish we could do the same magic with humans.
After roaming for quite some time we already established our ideal path. We probably looked suspicious while doing it for we were in our usual I’m-just-gonna-sit-outside attire. Note to self, if you’re going to do something like this again, just wear your running shoes even though you’re not going to run. At least the impression would be there. Or perhaps grab a cane or a walker so they will think you either got terrible genes or just got out of the hospital. The latter would be exciting.
On our way home we passed a group playing basketball. One guy probably felt the need to show he was alpha and challenged us by letting the ball go our way when he was perfectly capable of grabbing it. We waved the dirty thing off and chose not to bother ourself. When we get disturbed from a calm state we tend to get fearless and gain the strength to shred a basketball and break someone’s neck. But that’s not how the game is played. Also, it was a silly thing to awaken a dormant monster that lives in this seemingly harmless frame. -aB