Lies, Damnable Lies
Lies, Damnable Lies A sultry whisper in my ear. “Finishing a marathon is like pie…warm Apple Pie…” It was Denise Richards. I began to sweat. I looked at my wristband. WWSD. What Would Satan Do? I was stuck for an answer. I smelled brimstone. A deep laugh boiled up beneath me. “Silly wabbit…Carboplex! Carboplex!…Remember last summer at band camp!” Dark laughter fading away. It takes a brain to laugh and a train to cry. A sound like a gunshot. The relentless Music-Box Dancer replay of “Chariots of Fire” Swirling issues of JoggerzWhirld blinded me. Recipes for low-fat smoothies and better 10k splits blighted my vision! I was trapped in a crowd of 50,000 gerbils wearing bibs and ChampionChips! I fell down. I was being trampled! Denise Richards was laughing at my incompetence… again! I tried to get up and she faded away in the crowd that swirled around her, as I woke up with a jolt. I was not running the XX LA Marathon . Praise Gawd. I lit a Kool 100 to settle my frazzled n...