Sunday, 15 November 2009

Something about tortoises... I dunno, I need to use titles more.

"It's not working"
It wasn't, there was no point in denying it. I was in serious trouble here - debts up to my ears. This race was serious live or die stuff, and this was a serious problem.
Slowly, the first tortoise crossed the finish line. Serious expressions on their faces, another 4 crossed the line in due time. My tortoise however - overly optimistic named El Diablo rĂ¡pido, it transpired - lay dead at the starting post. Once again, my attempts to rig a race had gone wrong - my using of the old radish trick, steroids, and tranquilizers on the opposition had failed before. This time, however, I had tried mutation. In my mind, a super-mutant tortoise was the ultimate racing animal (and after, I could sell him to the military). Tragically, it transpired that when one dips a tortoise in stolen nuclear waste, it does not grow to huge proportions and become... muscly... (is that the word? You know, a ripped tortoise... Like condoms full of walnuts, in a shell)
In fact, it makes a tortoise die slowly, in a cruel and unnecessary manner. I'm going back to jail. Stealing nuclear waste and torturing animals - as well-intended as these acts may be - is illegal, you see.

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