Found this piece in the Fleet Feet newsletter and thought I would share:
I was on the treadmill. For reasons I can’t for the life of me remember, I decided to knock out my eleven-mile run in the basement accompanied by the cheery milieu of a vestal Total Gym and a Cuisinart box boasting not only the original Cuisinart, but also a stockpile of old receipts and a vagabond Sharper Image catalog.
“We’re in his jet wash… This is not good!”
[insert chaotic dogfight scene]
“Engine one is out... and your two is out!”
“Goose, I’m losing control! I’m losing control! I can’t… I can’t control it!”
“Mayday, mayday. Mav’s in trouble. He’s in a flat spin heading out to sea!”