The only thing that’s for sale are my morals

October 3, 2013 § 11 Comments

The phone’s been ringing off the hook, or rather, out of my pants since it’s not actually on a hook.

“Hey, Wanky, ol’ pal!” It was Darb Esuoh, a guy who I know, but try not to publicly acknowledge.

“Oh, hi Darb.”

“Pretty excited about those ol’ South Bay awards coming up tomorrow, heh, heh.”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be fun.”

“So, ah, like, who’s deciding these awards anyway? Is it a committee?”

“Committee? No. It’s me. Why?”

“Well, ol’ buddy, that’s great! Hey, great riding at nationals by the way!”

“38th place? Thanks, man.”

“Yeah, super stuff, there. So, like, is that 2013 Wanker Award for real or is it a joke?”

“Oh, you know me, Darb. It’s pretty much both.”

“So you’re really gonna name someone, you know, Wanker of the Year?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“It’s a fantastic idea, hilarious. So many fuggin’ wankers out here, y’know?”

“Yeah. All over the place.”

“Wankers, sheesh. I wish I had a nickel for every time I saw a wanker, har!”

“You’d be rich, dude.”

“Yeah, I know. Even when I was green I didn’t ride like these wankers nowadays, you know?”

“Right. Hey, you all healed up from that crash where you took out Tink and a couple other people in Portuguese Bend?”

“Aw, hell yeah. Good as gold. Thanks for asking, bro. Hey, by the way, I loved your blog post yesterday. Really touching. You’ve got a lot of talent, man. You’re our hidden gem. Just a matter of time before you hit the big time, you know?”

“You really think so? That’s an awfully nice thing to say.”

“Hell, everyone says it. You’re like Hemingway, only you don’t go around shooting elephants or yourself, which is awesome. Keeping it real, homie!”

“What?”

“Oh, just, you know, keeping it real. Love the way you keep it real, bro.”

“So, like, what’s up? I mean, you’ve never called me before.”

“Up? Nothing’s ‘up.’ Hashtag ‘justpals.’ You see that Justin Timberlake hashtag video? Raucous! Hashtag ‘funnyasshit.’ But that wanker award thing is hilarious as shit. I feel sorry for the poor schmo who gets that. I bet you had a hard time choosing. Hashtag ‘wankersbythesmillions.’ Har!”

“In fact, I did.”

“Fuggin’ wankers are everywhere. Did you, like, nominate people? Are there gonna be nominees and you choose from them, Oscars-type thing?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Ha, ha, ha! That’s awesome! You’re awesome! Ha, ha, ha! Awesome! Hilarious!”

“Thanks.”

“Who are they?”

“You know, just the folks you’d expect.”

“Fuggin’ wankers. Hey, bro, just wanted you to know that if I’m nominated for Cyclist of the Year I probably will have to decline the award if, you know, I get picked.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Oh, hell, I been doing this for thirty years. Seven state titles, you know, that’s enough for me. I don’t have any more room in the trophy case! Har!”

“I bet. I didn’t know you had seven state titles. That’s cool.”

“It’s a record. No one has more. Real deal, bro.”

“Dang. Still, I don’t remember ever seeing your name as a state road champ.”

“Road? Oh, no, not road.”

“Or the TT? Or the TTT? Just drawing a blank. But maybe it was back in the day, you know, when you were racing against a young Thurlow Rogers, schooling that dude, eh?”

“My titles are all pretty recent. But they’re solid. Rock fuggin’ solid.┬áThe one my stoker and I won five years in a row is called the 90+ category and that’s because they add the ages of the captain and stoker averaging out to be 45+ years old each.”

“Five-time mixed tandem champ, huh? That’s badass. Was that the category that, like in 2011, had two entrants?”

“Yeah, but it was hard. Just you and the bike and your stoker and the clock.”

“Good stuff, Darb.”

“Oh, HELL yes. For tandem there’s also a 70+ and a 110+ category. My teammate and I also won that championship twice in the 140+.”

“Two or three other entrants, eh?”

“Oh yeah, but they were fast. The race of truth, man, the race of truth. Ya gotta go deep in to the pain cave to get all those state titles. Deep.”

“Well, hey, Darb, great talking with you. I gotta run now.”

“Yeah, of course you do, for sure. Say, don’t embarrass me with a Cyclist of the Year award, okay? I know seven state titles is more than most people can even dream of, but still … I gotta live with these folks. Especially the wankers! Har!”

“Yeah, Darb. Har. Catch you later, pal.”

§ 11 Responses to The only thing that’s for sale are my morals

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