I could be
the finest ever in Olympic competition, I could bring home the gold every
single time for the home team. And the best part is I could probably compete
well into my 70’s. I can see it now, a low hush falls over the crowd, a crisp
British accent crackles to life over the public address system, the competitor
from China steps up to the table as they announce his name, “representing
China, here’s Hoo Flung Dung.. and his opponent representing The United States
of America that Scratch guy from Blogger!" A few scattered boo’s here and there,
but hey I’m an American, over the years I‘ve gotten used to being ridiculed
from time to time.
So there we
are, me and Hoo, sitting across the table from each other, I stare him square in the eyes, his jaw
clenches, he bares his teeth with grit and determination, but as the first
beads of perspiration roll down his forehead and into his eyes we both know; he
doesn’t stand a chance.. I take him down with ease I beat him ten to one easy,
he’ll be lucky to get the silver medal, that’s it cupcake! Game over, its
podium time give me my god damn medal! But alas it’s only a fantasy, and as I
return to the world of the here and now I slowly look down in front of me at my
sanity’s only salvation, alas, it was only a dream, if only there really WERE
an Olympic event for coffee drinking..
