Pedal, Pedal, Pedal
MY LEGS HAD always been strong, but I was starting to fear that they were not going to be strong enough this time.
I was pedaling harder than I’d ever pedaled before, but the angry snout of that vicious pooch kept getting closer and closer to my ankle. I had seen that dirty old mutt sitting on his porch all summer long, while I would cautiously ride my BMX bike down Maple Street to meet up with my best friend Peter so we could go to the movies. Usually, the dog would just perk up his head and wiggle his ears around a little bit when I would ride by. A few times, though, I had sensed a deep growl rumbling in his throat. But he had never left his porch before. Until today.
He was coming after me hard and fast now. He was skinny and scruffy and brown, with giant ugly whiskers that looked like the mustache of a doggy villain. I gripped my handlebars with all my might, and I was pushing down so hard on my pedals that I was afraid that the soles of my Vans were going to rip to shreds. But I just kept on pedaling, because it was the only thing that I could do.
Then he started barking. A horrific, evil little bark that must have been born deep in the pits of hell. I could feel the hot breath from his dirty black snout shooting onto my bare ankles. He was getting closer now, and I needed to prepare myself for the awfulness of his disgusting white fangs tearing through my flesh. But I just kept pedaling, because it was all that I could do.
I quickly turned right onto Mulberry Street, and the dog continued his ridiculous chase, in hot pursuit. But I could tell that he was getting a little bit tired, because he was taking deep breaths, and his little doggy ribs were going in and out, in and out. His dirty pink tongue was sticking out of his mouth too, flapping around every which way and smacking himself on the nose and muzzle.
That mean little pooch was finally running out of steam, but I wasn’t, even though my legs were tired and my lungs felt like they were on fire.
He was getting farther and farther behind me, and with each pedal, I was slowly pulling away from him. His barks were getting quieter, and I no longer felt his hot breath upon my legs. He had been beaten real bad, and he knew it. I was finally able to sit down on my seat and just coast, resting my legs, my lungs, and the rest of my exhausted body.
I looked back over my shoulder and saw him sitting there on the sidewalk, with his tongue hanging out, panting harder than a broken accordion. His head was tilted to the left side, with a curious look spread across his doggy face. He seemed confused as to why I did not want to play with him. The pooch then stood up and slowly walked back to his porch.
I turned left onto Rockfield Boulevard, and met up with Peter just in time to get to the movie theater before Robocop started.
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