The Greatest Race of All Time! The 1993 Oneonta to Cooperstown Challenge Marathon!

“You know what happens when I totally win, you stupid shit-covered Botendaddy! I am the greatest Upstate New York runner of all time! You and your so-called race team of shit-covered, so-called minorities, stinky girlies, shit-covered cripples, freaks and retards will never beat my super-sexy, muscular team of annoying Hollywood straw-man rich-kid bad guys who are gonna win and then drill all of you in the anvs at the finish line, expect for the girlies who are icky, icky, stinky girlies, yuck!” Said Quentin Asszewieppe Richkidde.

I looked back at my team of weird foreigners, disabled, mentally challenged and hot female runners. It was five on five, pick your best runners, each with verified marathon times averaged out and then a total team handicap was to be calculated by a new computerized chip and camera system out of Cornell and Oneonta Universities called XtremeRaceCalc2000®™©


The Mighty Empire State: Excelsior!

“F___ You! Motherf_____! Said Willa, our token black female runner from Utica.”

“What she said!” Said the slightly mentally challenged runner guy, Dave. No-one knew his last name, because we all suck.

“You are to have been being f____ in your own shitty anvs!” Said our Ethiopian ringer runner guy Addisu.

“Hot, this is so hot!” Said the token gay guy from New Rochelle. “It’s f___ or be f____d! Ah the taste of it!”

Then the typical goofy constantly laughing bad guy spoke up. “You guys all look like, retardates..stupid..shitheads! Loooosers, like with an L!” Then he laughed hysterically and fell over.

The proctor stood there with his 1898 New Jersey Stopwatch.

“Listen you disgusting frothing-mouthed imbeciles, this race has been run every year since 1795 when Judge Cooper ran against an Indian Medicine man named Sassacus Deerus. I don’t even want to tell you what happened to the loser except that it was (shuddering)! The rules are, stay on the route, no physical contact among any of the runners. No alternative means of transportation. The winner is calculated by whoever is more minutes and seconds under their handicap. The prize is $10,000.00. Grunge theme music will mysteriously be broadcast during the race to add a background score. Good luck!”

The finish line was actually in Middlefield on the eastern shore of Lake Otsego. We were starting from 1 Normal Avenue, Oneonta.

It was always run 🏃 on the coldest day of the year. I wore the usual grey sweatsuit with long johns underneath. Only the shit-covered weaklings hate the cold. I love the cold. I love extreme cold. ‘Ooh 😲 Botendaddy I totally RonJon and Club Med and beachy 🌊 🌊 beachy hot humid place stuff.’ F@&$ that! Give me the Adirondacks in winter!”


“It must have been that REM what’s the frequency song. It always takes you back to ’93. I was born in ’93, did you know that? You’ll have to tell me the rest of the story. So you had a diverse, multicultural team of shit-covered misfits and freaks. I kind of like that. That means that you are also a misshapen, subhuman freak and a weirdo because normal people hate abnormal people like me. I showered this morning because you said I stink and my hair was filthy. I even cleaned my ears 👂 with Qtips (TM) . I really think when we are done with today’s run that we should go to your private airfield and f@&k in the hangar. I like airports dont you?”

Said the crazy 😜 nerd 🤓 girl.

She was still jabbering. My mile time was 8:40, we had a shot at the low 19’s for the two mile time and under 30 for three. Not bad. The nerd girl was actually kind of attractive. She had green eyes 👀 which I never noticed because of the weird coke bottle glasses 👓. I felt kind of bad for her. She seemed awfully lonely 😭. She needed a nice young man.


The Universities had a timing station set up every four miles to check 🏃‍♀️ run times and who was in the lead. At the four-mile mark we were ahead of our handicapped and in a statistical dead heat with the SRKCC team. They were called the sexy rich kid country club team. We were ‘RT2K’ or race 🏁 team 2000.

The runners were spread out six miles in but Quentin ran alongside me.

“I’m gonna stretch your anvs at the finish line and fill your 80w315 with red-hot spermatozoa. Ah the smell of it! You stupid Franken-c0ck. You shit-covered, so-called sexy Botendaddy.”

He was so insane I couldn’t even think of anything to say.

“Sure is cold out here, Quentin.  You’re  gonna freeze your mangina off. You pompous shit-head. You donkey-c0ck-5m0k3r, you psychiatric, sub-mental trust fund baby 👶 mental petri-dish.”

REM’s ‘What’s the Fequency Kenneth’ was blaring from unseen 📢 loudspeakers.

“There’s no way the dude said ‘goniff’ he wasn’t hebe’d out enough. You would have to be totally Yiddish to use that word. As a matter of fact, I don’t think any Jew in the history of the United States 🇺🇸 ever used the term ‘Goniff’ it’s a fake literary word from homey Jewish writers of the 1930’s who were trying to portray Jews as human. Not even when the evil Yog Sothoth-worshipping carbetbaggers were being evicted from the War Zone by the beloved Ulysses S. Grant under General Order No. 11. Did I mention that if if my team wins this race 🏁 I’m going to drill you in the anvs with my massive pulsating love ❤️ tool?” Said Quentin.

“I agree wholeheartedly. ‘Goniff’ is a totally contrived Hollywood fakery bullshit word. Like Golem. No Jew I ever met, even the old ones in NYC ever said Golem.”


Oh no! 🤦‍♂️ I was back in 2017 with the CNG. We hit a steep hill for the two mile mark effort. Thank god it was cool 😎 with low humidity.

“It’s the heat, hills and humidity. That makes me run slower.” I said.

“No, it’s because you are a shitty, shit-covered runner. You were never a good runner even when you were young and super-thin. Probably better than most, but not near qualifying for a cross country team. I tried out for cross country but everyone picked on me and said I was retarded and stinky. But I was like smarter than all of them but they hated me anyway. They said I was like ‘Carrie’ from that shitty Stephen King 👑 book 📚. What a stupid 📚 book, ooh a high school revenge story, it’s so original! There is no revenge, they just call you retarded and hide your glasses and pour syrup in your locker and put your ID card 💳 into the shit-covered toilet 🚽 and beat the shit out of you over and over again and the vice-principal blames you for being a shit-covered intellectual loser.” Bemoaned the CNG.

“I’m sorry 😐 you went through that.” I said reassuringly, while actually internally blaming her for her own misfortune for being a greasy, smelly, coke-bottle-glasses-wearing, sub-human, contemptuous, red-haired, socially retarded, shitty, bookworm nerd 🤓. We ran hard downhill trying to break 30 minutes for the three mile mark. We actually made it.

“Botendaddy, let’s go to your airfield and f&$k!”

So my dearly beloved readers, I f@&$@?d her. I introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh. My hideous, reeking, green, ancient, rotting macabre, unnecessary-adjective-inducing body, next to her firm, lithe, supple, young virtuous female form. I felt like the evil shiitaanic  Jüd Süß, devouring the pure young Germanic beauty like in the demonic UFA Göebbels epic. I literally filled her with spermatozoa in every imaginable location. She will never clean the shame and stink of my hideous being from her person. Ah the taste of it! She was sullied beyond comprehension, dear readers.

Wait, now you’re upset 😭? Because she was only 24, intelligent, sensitive, vulnerable and virginal? Liars! Prevaricators! You wanted me to f@&k her! You practically begged me to f@&k her and now you’re unhappy? I literally f@&ked the s@&$ out of her for hours. How disingenuous!”

“Cinammon Mocha?”


Peace be the Botendaddy



About Botendaddy

Three times voted extreme sexiest man acclamation. I run because I must...I must!
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