If you’re not expecting the Crazy-Ball game to run over you, your reflexes probably aren’t going to save you.
You just circle the wagons (or, in this case, the Judges booths) and wait for the arrival.
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2374 comics.
You guys remember Mr. Mud Pie, right? He was waaaaay out in front during the first of the race, and by golly, it looks like he stayed there.
I think Mrs. Mud Pie was expecting to hear something more entertaining than, “I was so good that no bad stuff could catch up.” Maybe she enjoys the excitement of a little cannon fire now and again.
I don’t know if you realized… these two don’t have any other competitors around them. There are a few different reasons that could be.
They’re way out ahead and the others haven’t caught up yet.
They’re way out behind and the others have left them.
I’m sick of drawing bikes.
Discuss.
You ever try to ride a bike in a creekbed? It’s not a good idea.
If you have tried it, or expect to soon, you let us hear the story, okay?
But don’t talk about the sound that your ankle made during the worst part of the tale. I get the newbie-jeebies.
I don’t race.
I mean, I HAVE raced. I really don’t enjoy it. I like bike rides with friends but I don’t typically ride for speed, I’d rather ride for the sharp turns and little jumps and balanced edges. My favorite kind of bike is usually a trials bike with a couple of extra gears.
I sympathize with our racer who’s decided to quit pedaling and put down roots.
Admit it, if you had to train for a canoe race, there’d be certain things you’d focus on. And, if the instructions to the race were in a language that you have not been seen using in this particular comic strip, you might not work out that there was more to the canoe race than, say, racing canoes. So, if you were, let’s suppose, in the middle of said canoe race, and making your way toward the big red banner on the other side of the lake and going well, you might not have any reason to suppose that anyone would suddenly reveal that you would shortly be loading a bike in your boat, donning a blindfold, and trying to make your way BACK across the lake on verbal commands.
In fact, you might be stunned at the information.
And you’d want people to cut you a little slack about it, probably.
Time. I worry about it during workouts. I mean, they’re only 45 minutes long. An entire thin-crust supreme pizza wouldn’t last 45 minutes in front of me. 45 minutes is only half the length of a decent movie. I can piddle away 45 minutes looking for a word in a puzzle. But put me in a boat with a cramp, or on a bike at the far end of a turnaround ride, or in a car flying down the interstate after I drank a diet mountain dew? 45 minutes is nearly as long as that insane workout I mentioned earlier. Seriously. Do 20 pushups. That should eat up at least six minutes, don’t you think? I gotta start working out with people older than me. They have a better sense of time.
I’ve heard it said that nobody likes a whistler. Usually on TV sitcoms, I admit, but I have heard it and that’s where.
I whistle sometimes, and I like doing it, though I imagine it sounds pretty rotten to anyone around me. Good thing I’m cooped up in a studio sixteen hours a day most days of the year, right?
One of my kids has been trying to learn to whistle. I’m trying to be understanding and supportive. He’ll return to college soon enough and people his own age can lose their temper and tell him to quit it.
Where do you want to be in a crowd? Are you the Alpha, in the middle of the main conversation? The Beta, supporting several other players in the game? The Joker, propping up other egos with your own? The Wallflower, standing off to one side waiting for your moment? Cinderella, coming alive when the chance presents itself?
Or maybe you’re like Peter Wang, and you’re a raging Narcissist. I figure he assumes that anyone who appears not to be paying attention to him is just pretending because they’re extra jealous and can’t stand themselves for it.
Sorry to keep you guys from the Crazyball game, but you know that David and Wilma had to chat about where Paste is going next (Other than across the lake in a canoe full of raccoons. Come to think of it, why would any other destination matter? We should have gone straight to the raccoon canoe bit.)
