“C’mon guys; just don’t stand there! Help me!”
Tom frantically pleaded as he struggled to fix the flat tire. We just stood around and laughed.
A mile or two back on the bike trail to the lake, we’d come up behind a large, tan, extremely muscular bleach-blonde beefcake rollerblading down the trail. He was wearing nothing but his skates, a black leather thong, and a tiny black leather fanny pack that barely covered his butt crack. Even though it was a sunny autumn day with temperatures in the 60s, the guy undoubtedly was overexposed. Tom had shouted a homosexual slur over his shoulder as we sped past him on our bicycles.
Now fate had turned the tables on Tom. We watched with delight and amusement as ironic justice was served.
Tom had dragged his disabled bicycle 25 yards or so back into the surrounding woods, so he wouldn’t be seen from the trail. Still, he was sweating profusely as he fumbled unsuccessfully to change his tire.
“It’s not funny,” he said. “If that guy catches up, he’s gonna KILL us!”
We just looked around at each other, grinned, and shook our heads.
“No, Tom. He’s going to kill YOU.”
(c)2011 Thom Burns
No comments:
Post a Comment