She stands there—pesos in her left pocket, euros in her right. She was in a fake race. Well, she wasn’t in a fake race. She wasn’t in anything. There was no race. She took pictures of herself running in track shorts and Asics Gels along a rocky trail, above the beach. Both feet were stuck in the air. And her mouth was stuck in a Wheatie’s smile. Where was she going?
Numerous links on her numerous webbernet sites and they all led to a cornball page raising money for “a really good cause”. Lists of names and donations. The Wheatie’s air photo and “I’m running in a race!”
The day of the race. She waits in a line with a stuffed backpack. Pesos in her left pocket, euros in her right. An announcer from above says, “NOW BOARDING FLIGHT NUMBER 666…NON-STOP TO PUERTO VALLARTA…” The line she’s in starts to move.
“They’ll never find out…fuckers…”
"runner" illustration by John The Man Reeves yo! Thx again, JTMR!
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