WHIZZLEY — THE RUNNING MAN

 

WHIZZLEY — THE RUNNING MAN

Whizzley Says He'll Give The Flash a Run for His Money

There are certain moments in life when a man should stop, think carefully, and ask himself:

“Is this actually a good idea?”

Whizzley had never experienced such a moment.

He was standing in the middle of the BigSaltyDog headquarters wearing running shorts, a pair of battered trainers, a sweatband and sunglasses.

Nobody knew why he was wearing sunglasses.

It was raining.

Sideways.

Stg. Salty looked through the office window.

“What's he doing?”

Govna looked up from his coffee.

“I believe he's training.”

“For what?”

Govna shrugged.

“Apparently he's going to race The Flash.”

There was a long silence.

Salty slowly put his coffee down.

“Whizzley?”

“Yes.”

“Against The Flash?”

“Yes.”

“DC Comics Flash?”

“Yes.”

“Barry Allen?”

“That's the one.”

Salty stared through the window.

Whizzley was now stretching.

He put one leg up on a park bench.

Then the other.

Then he attempted to touch his toes.

He immediately fell over.

“Training's going well,” said Govna.

Whizzley got back up.

“I'm telling you lads,” he shouted through the window, “I'm going to give The Flash a run for his money!”

Salty opened the window.

“Whizzley!”

“Yeah?”

“You realise The Flash can run faster than the speed of sound?”

Whizzley nodded confidently.

“So?”

“So you're going to get absolutely destroyed.”

Whizzley grinned.

“Not necessarily.”

“Why not?”

“Because I've been watching The Running Man.”

Salty blinked.

“That film with Arnold Schwarzenegger?”

“Exactly.”

“You've been watching an action film for training advice?”

“Correct.”

Govna nodded thoughtfully.

“That's actually more preparation than I expected from him.”

---

THE WHIZZLEY TRAINING PROGRAMME

Whizzley had developed what he described as a revolutionary fitness regime.

The first exercise was called:

The Arnie Start

It involved standing completely still for thirty seconds while looking extremely serious.

Whizzley insisted this was essential because Arnold Schwarzenegger always looked serious before doing something spectacular.

The second exercise was:

The Escape From The Running Man

This involved sprinting from the kitchen to the front door whenever someone mentioned that there were dishes to be washed.

Whizzley had become extremely good at this.

The third exercise was:

The Flash Technique

This consisted of running extremely quickly to the fridge whenever someone shouted:

“There's cake!”

This was perhaps his most successful discipline.

Unfortunately, Whizzley had misunderstood the concept of endurance.

He could run very fast for approximately fourteen seconds.

Then he needed a sit down.

Salty watched him collapse into a chair.

“You're never beating The Flash.”

Whizzley took a drink of water.

“I'm pacing myself.”

“You've been running for fourteen seconds.”

“Exactly.”

“And you're exhausted.”

“That's because I'm saving energy for the final lap.”

“There isn't a final lap.”

“There will be.”

“Why?”

“Because that's how races work.”

---

RUNNING UP THAT HILL

The next morning, Whizzley announced that he had discovered the perfect training song.

He put on Kate Bush's “Running Up That Hill.”

The music started.

Whizzley nodded seriously.

“This,” he declared, “is going to transform me.”

He headed outside.

The problem was that the nearest hill was considerably steeper than Whizzley remembered.

He started running.

Twenty metres.

Thirty metres.

Forty metres.

Then he stopped.

He looked up.

The hill looked enormous.

Whizzley looked back down.

Then up again.

“This song has seriously underestimated the hill.”

Salty and Govna were watching from below.

Salty shouted:

“COME ON WHIZZLEY!”

Whizzley continued upwards.

“I'm running up the hill!”

Govna cupped his hands around his mouth.

“YOU'RE WALKING!”

“I'M STRATEGICALLY RUNNING!”

“You're walking!”

“I'm conserving oxygen!”

Eventually Whizzley reached the top.

He stood there, hands on knees, breathing heavily.

Salty arrived a few minutes later.

“You all right?”

Whizzley nodded.

“Never better.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I've just run up a hill.”

“You walked most of it.”

“Details.”

Whizzley pointed dramatically towards the horizon.

“Do you know what this hill represents?”

Salty sighed.

“Go on.”

“The hill represents adversity.”

Govna nodded.

“Or possibly a hill.”

---

THEN CAME IRON MAIDEN

Whizzley decided that one song wasn't enough.

He needed something more aggressive.

Something with guitars.

Something with drums.

Something that sounded like an army charging across a battlefield.

He pressed play on Iron Maiden's “Run to the Hills.”

The opening began.

Whizzley's eyes widened.

“YES!”

He took off.

This time he ran much faster.

He sprinted down the road.

He passed Salty.

He passed Govna.

He passed a confused dog.

He passed a cyclist.

He even passed a man who had been walking home from the shops.

“WHIZZLEY!” shouted Salty.

Whizzley didn't answer.

He was gone.

The music was driving him onwards.

Unfortunately, Whizzley had forgotten one tiny detail.

He hadn't actually planned where he was going.

Ten minutes later he rang Salty.

“Where are you?” Salty asked.

“I'm not sure.”

“What do you mean you're not sure?”

“I was running.”

“Obviously.”

“And then I just kept running.”

“Where are you?”

“I can see a Lidl.”

“There are hundreds of Lidls.”

“There's a roundabout.”

“There are lots of those too.”

“I can see a bus.”

“What number?”

“Hang on.”

A pause.

“Forty-nine.”

“That doesn't help.”

“There's also a large dog.”

“Is the dog helpful?”

“No.”

Whizzley eventually made his way back.

When he arrived at headquarters, he looked exhausted.

Salty handed him a bottle of water.

“So?”

“So what?”

“How was the run?”

Whizzley nodded.

“Epic.”

“How far did you go?”

“I don't know.”

“How long were you gone?”

“Also don't know.”

“Did you actually train?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I ran to the hills.”

Govna nodded.

“Very Iron Maiden.”

Whizzley smiled.

“Exactly.”

Salty shook his head.

“You've now combined Kate Bush and Iron Maiden.”

“That's my training playlist.”

“What happens when you're running downhill?”

“I'm working on that.”

---

THE FLASH CHALLENGE

Word of Whizzley's challenge eventually spread.

Nobody knew exactly who had told The Flash.

But one afternoon a mysterious red blur appeared outside BigSaltyDog headquarters.

There was a gust of wind.

Papers flew everywhere.

Salty's hat disappeared.

Govna's coffee moved approximately three metres.

Whizzley's training programme blew off the desk.

Then The Flash appeared.

Whizzley looked at him.

The Flash looked at Whizzley.

Whizzley pointed dramatically.

“So you're The Flash?”

“Yes.”

“I've heard you're fast.”

The Flash smiled.

“I've been told that.”

Whizzley nodded.

“Good.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't want any excuses when I beat you.”

The Flash looked confused.

Salty quietly walked away.

Govna followed.

“Should we stop this?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I want to see how it ends.”

---

THE GREAT RACE

The starting line was drawn outside the headquarters.

Whizzley warmed up.

The Flash stretched.

Whizzley put his sunglasses on.

It was still raining.

Salty stood with a flag.

“Ready?”

Whizzley nodded.

The Flash nodded.

“Three…”

Whizzley crouched.

“Two…”

Whizzley prepared himself.

“One…”

GO!

The Flash disappeared.

Whizzley remained standing.

He blinked.

“Where did he go?”

Salty pointed down the road.

“He's about half a mile away.”

Whizzley took off.

“WAIT FOR ME!”

He sprinted.

The Flash was already a tiny red dot in the distance.

Whizzley continued.

Fifty metres.

One hundred.

Two hundred.

Three hundred.

Then he reached the hill.

Whizzley stopped.

He looked at the hill.

He looked at his shoes.

He looked at Salty.

“I'm beginning to think The Flash has an unfair advantage.”

Salty shouted:

“KEEP RUNNING!”

Whizzley sighed.

Then he heard it.

The music.

Running Up That Hill.

Whizzley's eyes widened.

“This is my moment.”

He started running.

The hill got steeper.

Whizzley kept going.

His legs burned.

His lungs burned.

His sunglasses steamed up.

But he kept going.

“COME ON WHIZZLEY!”

He reached the top.

He turned around.

The Flash was waiting.

Whizzley looked at him.

“You waited?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I thought you might need a rest.”

Whizzley nodded.

“Very sporting.”

“Ready for the next part?”

“What next part?”

“The downhill.”

Whizzley looked down.

It was a very long hill.

“Oh no.”

---

THE GREAT DOWNHILL INCIDENT

Whizzley began walking downhill.

Then jogging.

Then running.

Then accelerating.

Then accelerating some more.

“WHIZZLEY!” shouted Salty.

“I CAN'T STOP!”

The Flash appeared beside him.

“You're going too fast!”

“I'M TRYING TO STOP!”

“Use your brakes!”

“I'M NOT A CAR!”

Whizzley picked up even more speed.

His arms were flapping.

His sunglasses flew off.

His sweatband disappeared.

He passed a sign.

Then a tree.

Then a cyclist.

Then, somehow, The Flash.

The Flash looked surprised.

“Did he just overtake me?”

Govna stared.

“I think so.”

Salty looked equally amazed.

“WHIZZLEY!”

Whizzley screamed:

“I'M THE FASTEST MAN ALIVE!”

The Flash sped up.

Whizzley sped up.

The Flash sped up again.

Whizzley sped up again.

They raced down the hill.

The Flash was laughing.

Whizzley was terrified.

Eventually the hill flattened.

Whizzley stumbled to a stop and collapsed onto the grass.

The Flash arrived a second later.

“You know,” he said, “you've got some speed.”

Whizzley looked up.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Did I nearly beat you?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“You were just falling downhill.”

Whizzley thought about this.

“Still counts.”

---

THE BIGSALTYDOG OLYMPICS

That evening, the BigSaltyDog gang held a meeting.

Whizzley had been officially recognised for his efforts.

Not for winning.

Obviously.

But for enthusiasm.

Salty stood at the front of the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today Whizzley proved something.”

“What?” asked Govna.

“That if you combine Arnold Schwarzenegger, Kate Bush and Iron Maiden, you still don't get The Flash.”

Everyone applauded.

Whizzley stood up.

“I'd like to make a statement.”

Salty sighed.

“Go ahead.”

“I may not have beaten The Flash today.”

“Correct.”

“But I learned something.”

“What?”

“Running is difficult.”

“Very profound.”

“And hills are harder than they look.”

“Absolutely.”

“And Iron Maiden makes you run faster.”

“Does it?”

“Definitely.”

“Why?”

“Because you don't want to stop while Run to the Hills is playing.”

Salty nodded.

“Fair enough.”

Whizzley continued.

“And Kate Bush taught me that running up a hill is a terrible idea.”

“Also fair.”

Whizzley raised his bottle of water.

“So tomorrow…”

Salty immediately interrupted.

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

“I haven't even said what I'm doing.”

“I know.”

“What if I said I'm going swimming?”

“Still no.”

“Cycling?”

“No.”

“Skydiving?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Competitive shopping?”

Salty paused.

“That depends.”

“Lidl?”

“Carry on.”

---

THE LEGEND CONTINUES

Nobody could honestly say Whizzley had beaten The Flash.

But that wasn't really the point.

Whizzley had discovered something far more important.

You don't have to be the fastest.

You don't have to win every race.

Sometimes you've simply got to put one foot in front of the other and keep going.

Even if there's a hill.

Even if your trainers are falling apart.

Even if you've accidentally run six miles in the wrong direction.

And especially if Iron Maiden is playing.

As for The Flash?

He left BigSaltyDog headquarters with a smile.

Before disappearing into the distance, he turned back.

“Whizzley!”

“Yeah?”

“Same time next week?”

Whizzley's face lit up.

“You're on!”

Salty groaned.

Govna laughed.

And somewhere in the background, the opening notes of “Run to the Hills” began playing again.

Whizzley immediately started running.

“WHIZZLEY!”

“What?”

“THAT'S THE WRONG WAY!”

Whizzley stopped.

Looked left.

Looked right.

Then pointed confidently down the road.

“I knew that.”

Salty shook his head.

“Sure you did.”

Whizzley grinned.

Then he started running again.

This time towards the hills.

Because, after all…

The hills weren't going to run themselves.

And somewhere, probably several miles ahead, The Flash was already wondering whether he had accidentally created a monster.

A very sweaty monster.

A very confused monster.

But, without question…

a running monster.

THE END… FOR NOW.