The Running Man.

I do appreciate that "The Running Man" is a rather enjoyable action movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger but that is not what this is about.

A few days have passed since I made the first entry in the blog, reason being that nothing out of the ordinary has happened. However I thought I'd tell you the story about the real "Running man"

A few months back in the midst of summer I get an invitation to a bbq party, I talk 2 friends into tagging along, my brother has agreed to drop us so the last thing to take care of is the booze. As usual I don't have a dime, however that rarely stops me.

We arrive at the party and luckily enough it turns out to be free booze, bootlegged vodka and beer, only thing that could top the cheap stuff is a bottle of rum, with ice. I start digging in and sooner rather than later I have turned, into the self-absorbant fiend that never shuts up. Still, people enjoy my company and wants me to tell them more of my stories. I happily continue, it's not as if anyone else would be allowed to say much anyways, I'd just humiliate them and have everyone turn against them, in a good way...

It was time to hit the pubs since there is some kind of festival in town, but they wouldn't let me in because I was too drunk. I started yelling at the bouncer hoping to improve my chances, I find myself being severly incorrect.. All of a sudden my brain wants to implode when I hear the sound of a moped. I am thinking to myself - These swine, endlessly hanging around outside the livingroom window of my God forsaken flat, running the engines of their stupid wannabe motorcycles, driving back and forth on the street like it was some racing course. Times are many when I wish I had a gun so I could gun em all down since screaming like a mong doesn't help that much anymore.

Back to the point, violent thoughts run through my intoxicated brain and I can only come up with one conclusion. I am gonna chase that punk down and beat the living shit out of him.

I am not the fittest guy, about 190 centimeters tall wheighing in at a little over 100 kilos and I hate running. But when I do it is always for what seems to me a very good reason, I gain what seems to be supernatural powers reaching unbelievably high velocities this however only happens once, perhaps twice a year. There is a catch though. At this point I am chasing the bloody moped down the street. It's some shit hot moped I tell you since I am totally convinced I am running at atleast 100mp/h and the moped is still getting away from me. I think to myself that I won't catch up with this monster of a machine and then it hits me. Here I am running like a freak down a street swarming with innocent people and at this speed I won't be able to turn and probably not stop either. I try to slow down but no, no chance. So I let nature have it's course and just let it go. Faceplant right down into the pavement, probably sliding a bit aswell. A smaller crowd is pointing at me while laughing, I am not amused the slightest... my chin, upper lip, nose and part of my forehead feels numb. Time to call it a night.

And what have we learnt from this story? Never run not even superpowers can help you if you do. Running is the devils work.

/Hoff