FUCK IT, LET’S STEEPLECHASE RIGHT NOW
By Davis Most
I see you’ve been running your mouth to every camera from every country you can find like you’re on a goddamn scavenger hunt. You’re like the fucking Rosetta Stone of steeplechase shit talk. Well, I’ve had enough of your swaggering bullshit. I don’t want to wait another second to wipe that smirk off your face. Fuck it, let’s steeplechase right now.
No roaring crowds, no other racers, none of that fancy Olympic shit. Just you, me, and three thousand meters of water pits and IAAF- approved 914-centimeter obstacles and a silver tray for your ass that I’m going to hand to you between the first and second kilometer.
It’ll be like the old days: those illegal midnight steeplechases under the street lights. The spectators bunched up almost on the the course, laying down their bets and keeping track of them by yelling and shaking money. Every second tense because the cops could come screaming in at any moment and we’d all have to scatter, leaping over obstacles and through streams to safety, except for my brother who you damn well knew could never clear that hedge and you left him there to rot, for the prosecutor to take him down because that piece of shit was up for reelection and all his commercials were about street steeplechase.
There’s no excuse now. No federation that’ll let you pull out because of some bullshit injury. Your agent isn’t here to butt in and tell me you’ve got to go because you’ve got a photoshoot for your steeplechase apparel line or have to do re-shoots for your cereal commercial. The mansions and the fancy cars with the STPLKNG vanity license plates don’t scare me. When I’m done with you, you’ll be glad you can blame your wet shorts on the water holes.
Let’s go, turkey. Right now. Just after we meticulously set up the course and get those hoses out, I think the Moldovan fencing team might help us out with that if I show ’em where to spray it. And we need to get ahold of some obstacles that are close to regulation height and then measure everything out. And find some sort of silenced starter pistol. Then, I’ll beat your ass so badly that you’ll want to stay in the water pit, just get yourself a snorkel and live in there for the rest of your life.
Right now, asshole. I can’t wait until Thursday.