Asamee Blog

The master of ceremonies for the championship track meet was none other than Kent Brockster. You might remember him from such low-budget documentaries such as Cheese, Why We Need It and Getting Obscenely Rich With Needlepoint. Kent never had any goals when he was growing up other than to be popular. He fell into his career simply because he had that perfect voice for narration. He just went along where ever his voice led him and now after 36 years of doing news, narrating documentaries, doing commercials, and hosting countless stupid events, Kent no longer had the patience to wait for the two track stars who were late.

The event was supposed to have started thirty seconds ago. As though to make sure it was still working--or to hurry things us--Kent tapped on his watch with his fingernail. There was no response and he put his arm down to his side, expelling a deep sigh. If only people realized how much waiting I had to do, thought Kent. If I added up all the time I've spent waiting for everything to be in place before I began speaking, I'd....I'd....well, I'd have a whole extra lifetime!

Just then, Gloria and Amber, the two track stars, appeared at the gate to the field. The crowd, numbering about four thousand, erupted in cheers. Gloria and Amber were the two top-seeded track stars and were now facing each other off for the crown.

Today's race would not be a typical race. For one thing, there were only two girls running around the track. But the run would also contain many hurdles--hurdles which the girls themselves placed on their paths. Each girl was allowed to place as many hurdles in their lanes as they wanted and they could set them as high as they wanted. Gloria placed 17 hurdles on her path around the track and Amber placed 14 hurdles. Gloria set her hurdles as high as she had ever jumped before while Amber set hers at the lowest setting.

As the two girls walked ever-so-slowly to their starting points, waving to the crowd the whole way, Kent Brockster let his mind wander as he stared across the crowd. He thought about the only goal he had left, and that was retirement. Then he wouldn't have to do this anymore....but then he would no longer be in the public eye. He dreaded retirement as much as he longed for it.

As the girls did their final stretching, Kent tapped the microphone to make sure it was still on--much like he had tapped on his watch before. Clearing his throat, Kent Brockster addressed the crowd:

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the ultimate sporting matchup this state has ever seen. Hello, I'm Kent Brokster. You might remember me from the Channel 7 News or last year's All-State Tractor Pull. I'm here to introduce you to the two greatest athletes to grace the tracks of our fair region. These two women have worked their way through every obstacle imaginable to get to the top and now they only have each other standing in the way. Today it will be decided which of the two is the best....the one who gets to wear the crown."

At the mention of the crown, the crowd went crazy. Waiting--once again--for the noise to subside, Kent then continued, "Ladies and gentleman, in the left lane we have Gloria." Once again, the crowd erupted in cheering. "And...and in the right lane we have Amber." And once again with the cheering. The two track stars were waving and bowing to the audience enciting them into further noise.

"As you know!" said Kent rather loudly, "Each star has placed their hurdles in their lanes. The girls will each run around the track one time and I'll be here at the finish line with the crown to place on the winner's head."

As both Gloria and Amber got in their set positions, Kent raised the starting pistol into the air. Shooting that pistol, for Kent, was an extra added bonus. It felt good for him to fire it although sometime he wanted to fire it horizontally intead of vertically.

"Ready! Set!" As the crowd fell into silence, Kent pulled the trigger and the race began.

It was no surprise that Gloria jumped out to an early lead. She had built up a bit of a reputation for that; being fast out of the gate. The crowd was not expecting to see how Amber got started, however. To everyone's surprise, when the pistol was fired Amber merely stood erect slowly and began walking--and walking rather slowly. A hush fell across the bleachers.

But then Gloria cleared her first hurdle as though flying right over it and the crowd broke into cheers again. Kent Brockster's eyes were fixed on Gloria leaping over the hurdle like a graceful gazelle. He had seen his share of sporting events and recognized talent when he saw it. Kent gasped, though, when he turned his attention to Amber. He covered his opened mouth with his hand.

Many in the crowd were also watching with jaw dropped as Amber put her hands in her pockets and began whistling as she ambled ever so slowly around the track. Was she sleepwalking? She didn't even seem to be paying attention. It was as though she were taking a leisurely stroll through a park. It was as though she were utterly enjoying her self. Each step was short and slow as Amber looked around as though she were seeing scenery she had never seen before. A gasp went through the crowd when Amber stopped walking to watch the flight of a cabbage butterfly flitting across the field.

By this time, Gloria was already halfway around the track and she had flawlessly cleared nine more hurdles and was coming upon her eleventh hurdle. The sound of the crowd gasping and oohing and aahing did not sound right to Gloria but she tried to block it out and focus on her next hurdle. This was the same hurdle that she had failed to clear in one of her State competitions--a competition which coincidentally was also mastered by Kent Brockster. Failing to clear the hurdle only encouraged Gloria to set the hurdle even higher. She pushed herself hard and the hurdles, to her, were never set high enough. Her brother, a one-time All-State high school football player, joked, "What she really wants to do is fly."

With Amber walking around in a somnambulant state, the crowd turned their attention to Gloria--seemingly simultaneously. At least, that's what Gloria felt was happening. It was enough to divert her focus and she went crashing into the eleventh hurdle. Gloria, along with pieces of the hurdle, went flying. But it wasn't a take off so much as a crash landing. Gloria went skidding across the track and an entire childhood of skinned knee and elbow memories flooded to the surface. The crowd went bonkers.

Gloria's only thought, however, was to get up and keep running. Surely she would be overtaken by Amber at any second. She didn't even bother looking at her skinned elbows and knees; she just got right back up to start running. It was then that she turned her head around to see that Amber wasn't right behind her. Looking back near the starting line, Gloria could see Amber walking! This momentarily confused Gloria but she shook it off and began running again. She still had six more hurdles to go.

By this time, Amber finally reached her first hurdle and to everyone's further shock she merely walked around it! But the crowd was barely finished gasping when four thousand heads turned simultaneously to the other side of the track to see Gloria clear two more hurdles. The hurdles didn't even seem to slow Gloria down. With some space before Gloria's next hurdle the crowd again turned its collective head towards Amber who was now skipping merrily like a school child. "At least she's making better time," thought Kent Brockster.

Kent then turned his head with the crowd to see Gloria crash into another hurdle. The crowd let out a screaming and a wailing that could be heard all the way to the Shangri-La Trailer Park. This time, Gloria didn't get up right away. Perhaps she wasn't so quick to rise on account of Amber being so hopelessly far behind her or perhaps it just hurts a lot more when you skin knees and elbows that were just skinned less than a minute before. Whatever the case, Gloria just laid there, her chin resting on the hot asphalt.

Gloria let the pain run its slow course and then she very slowly started to get up. By this time, Amber had meandered past her third obstacle. She was no longer skipping but rather walking very slowly again. Looking back and forth between the two seemingly forlorn track stars, the crowd was suddenly gasped out. Kent was beside himself.

"Good God almighty! This is going to take forever," murmured Kent under his breath. It was a good thing the microphone wasn't near his mouth. He continued with his murmuring, "I could grow a beard in the time it's going to take to finish this race." With this thought, Kent's hand automatically raised to his face and he rubbed it across his face. "Still smooth," he whispered.

Over the past five or six years Kent had been thinking a lot about growing a beard. Since he had never been seen with a beard in his life perhaps no one would recognize him with one. Heck, he probably wouldn't even recognize himself. With a beard, a hat, and some sunglasses perhaps Kent would be able to stroll down the street of Anywhere, USA and not be recognized. "Everything is backwards," he murmured to himself. At the beginning of his career, Kent tried as hard as he could to get everyone to recognize him and now he was scheming ways to hide from everyone. Turning his attention back to the race, Kent continued his mumbling, "This race is certainly backwards."

Amber was still lolligagging around the track like some blissed out junkie. She continued walking around her hurdles and with one of them she got down on her knees and crawled under it. At one point, she stopped to pick some dandelion flowers alongside the track. She was finally nearing the mid-point in her trip around the track.

Meanwhile Gloria had gotten up and resumed her running but now she was limping and her pace had slowed considerably. She was too hurt to clear her remaining hurdles but she tried anyway, knocking them down in the process. With blood running down her arms and legs, Gloria pushed onward to the finish line. After knocking over her last hurdle, she looked across the track at Amber who was in the process of doing a cartwheel. What? Gloria was confused but she managed to put all of her focus back into running. She kicked it into overdrive, as they say, and, despite the searing pain, she picked up speed for the final leg of the race. In a flash she was crossing the finish line.

"Finally," murmured Kent Brockster. "Now if only the other one would hurry up." As Gloria slowed her running after passing the finish line, Kent turned his eyes to Amber who was still walking slowly and still only a little past halfway around the track. Kent rubbed his hand over his face again but it was still smooth.

The crowd had fallen silent. It was hard to cheer someone who didn't even seem to be trying. In muted astonishment, the crowd watched Amber very slowly walk around the track.

Kent looked over at Gloria to see that she was now on the ground, her arms and legs being treated by trainers. He then looked at the crowd who seemed in a state of confused suspended animation. Then he looked at Amber who was now kicking an empty soda can down the track. "I wish someone would kick her down the track," he murmured. The waiting was killing him.

Amber forgot about the can when a pair of geese flew by overhead. She stopped walking and looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. When the geese honked, Amber, to everyone's further amusement, honked back. The crowd never looked up at the geese. Everyone's gazes remained fixed on Amber who had now resumed her painfully slow walk towards the finish line.

Kent found himself wondering what it would be like to be smoking a cigarette right now. Kent didn't smoke but he figured if he did, right now, would be a very perfect time for a smoke. Kent looked at the stupified crowd and wondered how many people in the crowd were jonesing for a cigarette right about now. Under his breath, Kent laughed a little sinister laugh.

Then he looked back at Amber who was doing yet another cartwheel. "Hotdog!" Kent said with a scowl. Some in the crowd actually applauded the cartwheel. "Idiots!" Kent said with a scowl.

Kent then started thinking about hotdogs and as he did so a little ping went off in his stomach. Like a trained monkey, he lifted his microphone-holding left hand up in order to look at his watch. "It looks like it's going to be a late lunch today," he said under his breath. He tapped the watch with his fingernail even though that didn't help make lunch come earlier. With another deep sigh, Kent dropped his arm and continued to wait. Looking at Amber, who was now twirling in circles, he let out another sigh.

To have something to do, Kent looked over at Gloria to see that she was now sitting up while her trainers continued to dress her wounds. That didn't take long. Kent looked back at Amber and she was now moonwalking. "That damn Michael Jackson!" Kent said under his breath.

Looking at Amber, then at Gloria, and then at the crowd, Kent let out another sigh and turned his attention to the sky above. Oh, how wonderful it must be like to be a cloud, he thought. As a cloud you can go where ever you want whenever you want. And since you'd be constantly changing no one would ever recognize you. Kent imagined himself a cloud being blown through the sky, morphing constantly, swimming through the air. Now that would be grand!

As Kent continued staring into the sky he began noticing that a certain cloud suddenly looked a lot like a boat; his boat to be exact. That boat cost a pretty penny and he only used it maybe two weeks out of the year. Kent wondered what it would be like to get in his boat and never come back. He could grow a beard and get a pipe and be a sea captain. As long as he didn't talk in his "professional voice" no one would recognize him and he could just be a happy sea captain for the rest of his life. On his boat he could be like that cloud.

"Aye, matie," Kent said under his breath in his best sea captain voice. This was followed by a little snicker and then he looked back down to earth and saw that Amber had not progressed very much at all. She was only a little over three-quarters of the way around the track. Looking over at the crowd, Kent noticed that there were many who were taking bathroom breaks. There was also a small bunch now actively cheering every one of Amber's molasses slow steps.

Kent wiggled his toes inside his shoes to help bring back the circulation. He felt that he was very close to breaking into pacing. Pacing had been a problem for Kent in the early years but he had managed to train himself not to do it in public. But he could only take so much.

With each minute becoming more agonizing than the next, Kent stood there and waited. And waited. And waited. And as he waited his life began to flash before his eyes. Was this the end? Would this be the straw that broke the commentator's back? Would he be able to make it until Amber crossed the finish line? Or would he go postal?

Amber was all smiles as she neared the finish line. She was waving; to the crowd, to the birds and butterflies, and to unseen benevolent phantoms. She was exuding happiness and the crowd was now starting to cheer her as she approached the waiting Kent Brockster. Helped by her trainers, Gloria was now limping back to the finish line. The crowd slowly rose to its feet when Amber got to about twenty paces from the finish line and the cheering intensified tremendously.

It was enough to break Kent out of his stupor. He turned to face the approaching Amber. The tiresome waiting would soon be over. He was about to raise the microphone to his mouth but, after all, she had twenty more paces, so there was still time.

With each step towards the finish line taken by Amber the crowd got louder. The excitement level was tremendous. Despite the fact that he was wearing a jacket, Kent could feel the hairs on his arms stand up. Finally, Amber walked over the finish line and Kent stepped up to her and grabbed her hand, holding it up into the air. With his other hand he brought the microphone up to his mouth and shouted, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!"

The crowd went crazy with applause. Kent continued holing Amber's hand up into the air. Amber seemed confused and was no longer smiling.

Finally, Kent let Amber's hand go and he reached behind him where a man was waiting with a crown. Kent took the crown and, turning back around, placed it on Amber's head. He then addressed the crowd again, "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the new queen of the track, Amber!" The crowd, once again, went crazy. Gloria was cussing up a storm but because of the crowd you couldn't hear a word she was saying.

The applause lasted a long time--but in comparison to Amber's stroll around the track it really wasn't that long. When it finally subsided Kent spoke into the microphone again but this time he addressed Amber, "Amber, how do you feel and what do you have to say to the crowd?" He moved the microphone near her mouth.

"Well, Mr. Brockster, this crown really makes me feel funny. It's way too heavy and it affects my center of gravity and therefore hampers my natural movement as I walk." To everyone's horror, Amber took off the crown and handed it back to Kent. "I can't do cartwheels with a crown on. Thanks, but no thanks. All I want to do is walk."

His jaw dropped open and his microphone limp at his side, Kent took back the crown from Gloria and watched in amazement as she proceeded to continue walking. It looked like she was going to walk around the track again. With the crown in hand, Kent didn't know what to say or do. He watched Amber walk off and, to his further amazement, he watched several people from the crowd jump out of the stands and follow Amber in her walking. At least two dozen people joined Amber. The rest of the crowd fell silent and their collective attention was now on Kent Brockster. What happens now?

Kent was utterly beside himself. None of his experience over his 36 year career prepared him to deal with this situation. He was utterly clueless as to what to do. He just stood there wishing he was a cloud.

Slowly, Kent realized that the entire crowd, as well as Gloria and her trainers, were staring at him waiting for something to happen; waiting for him to say something to allay their confusion. Hee hee! You people have made me wait all these years and now you get to see what it's like! thought Kent. You don't like it, do you; waiting and waiting and waiting?

And then Kent got an idea. He walked toward Gloria and placed the crown on her head. Turning to the audience, he brought the microphone to his mouth and proclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new winner!" The crowd, as can be expected, went nuts.

Kent proclaimed Gloria the new queen and, all smiles, she then walked the width of the stands as she was showered with roses and emotional exclamations. She walked slowly back and forth in front of the crowd blowing kisses and waving. Kent, meanwhile, looked over at Amber and the people following her. They had now veered off the track and were headed for the forest.

Kent shook his head. This sure was a backwards day. His job was now finally over and all he wanted to do was go to his boat. Looking around him, he noticed that no one was paying any attention to him any longer. All the attention was now on the new queen Gloria. Kent sighed a sigh of relief. And then he went into action.

He gave the microphone to the guy who was holding the crown and then he started walking away. And he was walking much like Amber did; without a care in the world. As he walked across the field he took off his tie and flung it on the grass. After a life of never ever littering it now felt good to just throw that tie. Next, Kent took off his watch and flung it, too. Some homeless person will probably find that and take it to the pawn shop and get enough money for it to feed themselves for a few weeks, thought Kent. Ah, it felt good to be charitable.

Feeling invigorated, Kent just walked. There was no looking back. He was just going to keep walking until he got to his boat. Oh, man it felt good to just walk and thrill in the movement. Moving free of restrictions, he was like a cloud--a cloud in a business suit. Taking off his jacket, he flung that, too. He waved his arms through the air and did his first cartwheel in over twenty-five years. Continuing his walk, Kent felt his face and chuckled as he felt the first stubble coming in.