I am the Walrus

I hated Track and Field Day at St. Gregory’s. I was good at shot put, but only if all the farmers’ daughters from Pike Creek were ill. Yet I stood a chance against Stacey in the 200-metre dash. She was an absolute manatee of a girl, with skin like a bag of milk. Out of the gate, I was metres ahead when I slowed, urging her to catch up. “Just Go, Laurie!” she puffed. As pacing was a foreign concept to me I could only pant and hold my side as she waddled around the goal post to claim victory.