2002-08-29 - 10:13 a.m.
Last night I ran a marathon. With my sister (who I have run with before). With Angela (who I plan to run with in the future). They were the same person, not at the same time, they alternated inhabitance of the same racing body. The great thing about the marathon is that it took place within a theme park ride. I'm not clear as to the theme of the theme park ride, it was a bit ambigious. Maybe it was future, maybe it was subway, maybe it was the West, maybe it was a Western subway of the future. I decided to try to pace my marathon more than I did in San Diego so I wouldn't be so spent at the end. All of a sudden, I realized that seven hours had passed and I was still running. I decided to pick up the pace a bit so I wouldn't be sweeped off the street by the marathon officials's street cleaning machine for not finishing in 7.5 hours. The last stride of the race was down a metallic stairway with different colored neon lining the walls. As I placed my foot on the third step from the top, a bearded man collapsed right in front of me. A dillemma presented itself: do I help the man or do I run down the stairs to find a medic (the last option would also allow me to finish the race with a faster time). I started down the stairs but then changed my mind and returned to the man. Two other people were already attending to him. I knew he was already dead. I told the others to help me carry him and I hoisted him up, at which point he vomited gallons all over me. We clumsily moved his body down to the bottom of the stairs. Seeing as how he was already dead, there was nothing else I could do so I walked away. My family greeted me and rushed me off to a congratulations dinner party. I really wanted to wipe the vomit off of me but they really wanted me to attend the party. After a little cocktail hour chatter, I screamed "All I want to do is clean this dead man vomit off of me!" As I stormed off to the bathroom, I heard a few of the party guests mutter, "Geez, you don't have to get all huffy about it. Its just death slime."
I made it to the bathroom and stripped off my clothes. Just as I was about to enter the shower, two of my friends, Mary Ellen and Shana, came in to congratulate me. At this point I'm more embarassed about them seeing me naked than the dead man vomit so I crawled under the sink. The tell me, "C'mon, don't take a shower, there's no time. We have to get to the concert!"
They slap the wet clothes back on me and we drove off to the stadium. I'm annoyed by my filthy state but more by the fact that I'm going to a concert for a singer I don't even know. When we get there, all of my friend abandon me as the show starts. The female singer goes on stage and sings a rockin' dirty song and does some rockin' dirty moves. I'm mesmorized by her. I'd live in dead man vomit for that performance any day.
