The King of the Castle

Reader Logo by Joshua Rapp Learn

The contestants lined up at their starting places.  There had been some initial concern over the fact that some of them would begin with clear advantages but there seemed no way around it – disqualification could hardly apply in this contest.  The competitors stood tottering in bleary-eyed regard of the goal ahead of them.

Before the game had even begun, one player dropped a glove and followed it with a crashing body.  He flailed around on the street in a drunken mess, grasping for air that resisted his barehanded clutch.  He was a write-off – if there were a bookie present he would have offered vast percentages for the unlikely event of victory.

Another contestant – a tall, bowlegged blond cowboy with a drawstring tie and fat chops dusting either side of his face – tossed an empty beer bottle over his shoulder.  The resounding shatter replaced a whistle as the official announcement of the game’s commencement.

A spindly, middle-aged redhead with matching denim shirt and jeans divided by an insolent belt buckle lurched off with teetering acceleration.  As he tumbled face first into the rising snow pile it occurred to him that the buckle hadn’t been built with a great degree of aerodynamic consideration.

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