“I hate Judge Judy. I don’t want some loudmouth, obnoxious New York broad shrieking at me and bossing me around. I grew up with that, my Mom and Grandmother are from the South Bronx for Khufu’s sake.”
I was running with the Park Ranger.
“I am madly, passionately, romantically in love with you in the ickiest, most sickenky sweet, syrupy ‘make you uncomfortable’ sort of way, Yon Botendaddy.”
I tried to distract the Park Ranger by pointing at birds and the budding of the trees in Springtime. Our first mile was under 9:00 by a hair, so we had a chance to pace under 10 minutes the entire way. It was cool when we started and it warmed up dramatically seemingly every minute. I tried to stay on the flat.
“Everyone at the Writer’s Workshop blames you for Hiroyuki’s breakdown even though you only see her like twice a month. She never loved you. None of them ever loved you except me, my del.ic.io.us Botendaddy.”
The second mile ended on a steep uphill into a cul de sac which is French for ‘filthy faeces-encrusted anus of the dangling, hairy, sweaty, tasty, shit-covered testicles.’ Or it means ‘circular terminus of a street.’ We made it on time to pass the Army Two Mile Run standard for old people. Although the Park Ranger is twenty years younger than I and a magnificent bodybuilder, albeit quietly insane.
“Well, they all do hate me to varying degrees. But it’s their own fault. No one has to hang around with me if they don’t want to. They hang around with me because I am totally non-judgmental, Park Ranger.”
We sped up in a desperate attempt to break a 30 minute 5k time.
“Yes you are nonjudgmental and you will engage in any depraved, disgusting 53x act that they can possibly think of. You remember that one time in Sausalito on the boat with me, Ramon the Penguin, the Harlequin, the 95 year old silent movie actress and the dwarf?”
“I was afraid you would bring that up. Look my readers think I’m perfectly normal, within two standard deviations, so let’s keep that hush hush. By the way, trying to keep my weight down is insane. I basically can never eat again. That reverse plateau is tougher when you are ping-ponging around a certain weight. The body doesn’t know whether to gain or lose, so it slows the metabolism.”
We hit the three mile mark in the low 29’s but we couldn’t quite break a 30 minute 5k so we took a shot at a sub 40:00 four mile. The country road was like Frogger and Crossy Road.
The fourth mile was almost entirely uphill, so we ran (RACISM ALERT FROM THE PA DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE pursuant to Pa Cons Stat No. 25-2076 of 1947 by per Curiam order of the Court of Quarter Sessions, 3 October 1959) Indian file (redacted to revolutionary liberated undocumented gender-neutral LGBTQ+A Native American of color – file).
We made it in 39:59. Not bad.
“I lift three hours at a time, three times a week, I run twice a week and I do nude all-male hot yoga and I can barely stay cut. At any rate, let’s go to your in-ground stone hot tub, so I can make mad passionate love to you for hours and read creepy sonnets, and Vogon-like poetry dear Botendaddy.
Peace be the Botendaddy