She showed up at the writer’s workshop on Tuesday night. Blonde, curly, unkempt hair, kind of a big chunky girl, but she looked athletic at the same time.
“Eng Fro, Léif Monsieur. Ech sinn e freaky Luxembourg Meedchen. Sidd Dir de berühmten Botendaddy? Ech schonn verléift mat Iech Madly.”
Ah, a Luxembourgeoise girly, I thought.
“Jo ech, Kand, wat ass Är Numm?”
I am Helene. I am here to study English Writing.
“Awesome. But I must warn you, most of the people in the Workshop are insane.”
“That is why I am here. I read your stories on the wonderful Botendaddy site. It was voted the number one obscure site in Europa. It won the ‘Slim Whitman’ award for best personnage no-one ever heard of before.”
THE TRAIL: TODAY HIGH NOON
It was a solid run. All uphill for 2.25 miles.A little over 9 minutes for the first mile, not great. A little under 20 for the second mile so-so. A little under 31 for the third mile. It was hot, 81 degrees. In late October. I hate the heat, it ‘slown’ me down again.
I felt someone’s presence behind me at about the 5k mark. It was downhill since the turnaround point. It was Helene.
“I’ve been following you the entire way. You are too sexy in real life. Do ya want this bodee? Léif Botendaddy, Sir? I want to serve you in every manner possible, EVERY MANNER POSSIBLE, do you get it? Do you get it?”
We ran past people pushing baby carriages and elderly walkers.
“Have some decorum, weird Luxemburgeoise. This ain’t Europa (Pronounced Oy-Row-Pah) You know I’m having trouble staying on the diet. It’s like a drug addiction. It’s almost impossible to stop eating.”
She followed me to my car. She wasn’t a bad runner. Very strong. I finished under 42 minutes. I tried to get rid of her… alright, you know what happened. I f&^%ed her, alright?
Peace be the Botendaddy