Monday, April 27, 2009


So I am strolling through the park on a beautiful warm lunch break and come across a young man, drawing with sidewalk chalk on the pavement.

Shortest Race Ever

it says. About six feet apart, two lines are drawn and labeled “Start" and “Finish.”

Oooo can I do it? I ask him.

Of course. That is what it is for! I position myself at the start. Ready. Set. GO!

I take off and two steps later cross the finish line.

You won! he says. Yessssss what an accomplishment. Why does the world love me so much? Sometimes I just do not know.

This post is part of the Blue-Beta Blog Coordination, a continuing series of content coordinated by theme or motif with posts from Confuzzled of I Keep Wondering, Gromit of The Dancing Newt, Redoubt of Redoubt Redux, Third Mango of Funkadelic Freestylings of Another Sort, Yarjka of Sour Mayonnaise, and Xanthippe of Let’s Save Our Hallmark Moment. This week's theme: 'finished'.


Logan said...

"Why does the world love me so much?"Mmmaybe because you are a young woman? That is just a hypothesis

Newt said...

If by "the world" you mean "that young man" then yes, the answer is obvious. But what I probably meant to ask is, how did the universe manage to arrange itself in such a way that I would stumble upon, and win the shortest race ever?

Confuzzled said...

Because the universe is obviously set up to conspire for your good :) Periodically, anyway...