martinsmithstories

Image by cromaconceptovisual from Pixabay

History records the race as the fifth greatest of all time. The classic between the Hare and the Tortoise tops the list, followed by Bannister breaking the four-minute mile. Rounding out the top three races is Pheidippides’ run from a battlefield in Marathon to the citadel in Athens to deliver news of a victorious battle. And after number four—the race for the White House in 2016—comes Race 5: The Battle for Bragging Rights.

The race may never have occurred had five friends not sat around a campfire on a beach on a late afternoon, let alone if one of them had not reached into an icebox, pulled out the last beer and skolled it.

‘Geez, you sure are quick, Badge,’ Tortoise said.

Badger crushed his empty beer can and released a long, pronounced belch to acknowledge Tortoise’s compliment.

‘He’s not as quick as I am,’ Cheetah said. ‘I’m the fastest creature ever to run on God’s Earth.’

‘You’re a mere sloth when it comes to speed,’ Sailfish said. ‘If we’re talking fast, look no further than me. I’m the fastest creature ever to swim the Seven Seas.’

‘Pfft!’ Peregrine Falcon said. ‘If either of you was any slower, you’d be moss gatherers. Take note: the science is in. Whether it be land, sea or sky, I’m the fastest creature God created. Full stop. End of sentence. End of paragraph. End of discussion.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Tortoise said, ‘but you lot are all talk. Can you walk the walk? Survive and thrive under the pressure of competition? At least I’ve run in a race. And I won. I’m undefeated. I’m one and zero.’

Badger concurred with Tortoise’s comment with another belch, longer and more pronounced than its predecessor.

‘Why not a race?’ a voice said.

‘Who said that?’ Cheetah said.

‘Me.’ And there at the feet of the five sat a snail.

‘Who are you?’

‘I am Gonzales of Gastropoda.’

‘You seem more like a common garden snail to me. So, Snail, a race, you say?’

‘Yes. A race to determine who is the fastest. But let it be a challenge. A test of body and mind. How about once the sun sets, the race be the first one to catch its golden rays on their face, and let the winner be declared the fastest of all God’s creatures?’

While Badger gave the empty icebox a glum look, the other four looked towards the setting sun and then glared at each other.

‘Agreed?’ Snail said.

‘Agreed,’ Cheetah said. ‘I’ll whip your arses.’

‘I’m in,’ Sailfish said. ‘You’ll all flounder in my wake.’

‘Sure,’ Peregrine Falcon said. ‘I’ll leave the lot of you in my slipstream.’

‘You bet,’ Tortoise said. ‘What you blowhards don’t realise is you’re just sprinters. Weak-minded, highly strung twitchers. You’ve no endurance, no patience. You’ll not stay the longer distance. I’ll win. Again. I’ll be undefeated. Two and zero.’

‘And you, Badger?’ Snail said. ‘Are you in? I’ll throw a six-pack of Budweiser into the winner’s purse.’

Badger belched and nodded.

‘Look,’ Snail said. ‘The top of the sun is quivering on the horizon.’ The five friends turned, and their faces glowed in the sun’s last rays. ‘Right, gentlemen, let us take our marks.’

‘Us?’ Sailfish said.

‘Yes. I wish to race.’

‘You?’ the five said in unison. And they fell amongst themselves, laughing and weeping and holding their sides.

‘You?’ Cheetah said. ‘The fastest? In your dreams, buddy. Why would you wish to compete against us?’

Snail cast a steely gaze towards each of the five and said, ‘Bragging rights.’ And he took his place on the starting line, and the race between five now numbered six.

‘On your marks,’ Snail said, and the competitors crouched in their starting positions.

Tortoise looked left and then right and stretched his neck out beyond the starting line.

‘Hey, Torts,’ Peregrine Falcon said. ‘Pull your head in!’

‘Sorry.’

‘Set.’

The competitors rose as one to the set position and froze in the chilly evening air.

Suddenly, Cheetah burst from the starting line.

‘Cheater!’ Peregrine Falcon called out after him.

‘Flock off, Falc,’ Cheetah shouted back. And he surged towards the twilight.

‘Go!’

And the race for bragging rights was on.

Sailfish leapt in the air and dived into the sea and, with a swish of his mighty tail, surged through the black waters towards the red horizon.

Peregrine Falcon beat his wings and rose above the ground and set off towards the west.

‘Slow and steady, champ,’ Tortoise said to himself, and he ambled forward.

Snail looked at Badger and said, ‘You’d best get moving, my friend.’

Badger tutted. ‘Fools,’ he said. ‘While those braggarts waste their time rounding the bend, I shall go straight to the point. Based on my calculations of the soil’s moisture and friability, and applying an angle of depression of 90 degrees, I intend to dig my way to victory by greeting the sun’s rays in the sunny antipodes.’ And with a dozen rapid scoops with his claws, he disappeared down a hole soon surrounded by a mounting pile of sand.

Snail looked to the grey sky, at the red horizon, over the sable sea and down the black hole. He smiled and said, ‘Best give them a head start.’ And he surrendered himself to his shell and curled up and closed his eyes and fell asleep.

***

On and on Cheetah ran as the horizon changed to orange. On and on Sailfish swam as the horizon faded to yellow. On and on Peregrine Falcon flew as the horizon waned to pink. On and on Tortoise plodded as the horizon dimmed to violet. On and on Badger dug in darkness as the horizon dulled to blue.

Then the black of night consumed dusk’s last light, and Snail, beneath a cloudy, moonless, starless sky, slept on.