he ran

He ran. Three rounds left. It was harder today. It felt harder today. The sun was bearing down on him, drowsy still. He thought about the lassi he had waiting in the car. It would have thawed by now and would be a comfortable cold. He almost salivated. Three rounds. He turned and stared at the man who was inside one of the cages, a rusty can probably filled with food. The ducks and ducklings were cawing and honking around him. His arms swung, and with every rotation, every step, his scapulae rotated. One turning inwards, one outwards, they hit the sweat drenched shirt. The shirt had been thick, but light, like clouds, earlier. Now, the front of it was heavy, the sweat a veritable weighted vest. The back was cool as it smacked his retracting and contracting shoulder and back muscles.

He wondered what would happen if they kept a big cat in one of those cages. It was a ludicrous idea because the criss crossed wires surrounding them were flimsy. It would get out.

Everyone would scream. That “illiterate degenerate” as he liked to think of the old man who walked in the opposite direction, in direct violation of the park rules, would probably have a heart attack and die on the spot. The fat woman who just shuffled around the park breaking leaves, and mind you, these were the educated elite, mind you, these people paid money to enter a park where most other parks in the city and the country, were free. The fat woman who shuffled around breaking leaves and flowers off of plants would probably piss her shalwaar and try to run. Finding it difficult, seeing as her daily exercise was tearing up nature, not walking or running, or anything of that sort. The lion would roar, and swipe a paw, breaking a back, a satisfying crunch. It would leap, as people would be screaming and running. He wondered what the idiot from today would do? In a time of global pandemic, the idiot walking in without a mask, being stopped by the guards at the gate, somehow threatening them, he hadn’t heard the whole thing, he’d run out of earshot by that time, and walking the rounds mask free. He wondered what that man would do. Probably drop all pride in a screaming, frantic attempt to save his life. He too, would probably have a dark splotch forming around his crotch. Pissing in fear. Let them see who they were then? He would love just walking calmly towards the exit as they all screaming and died. He wondered if that would happen? Would he be calm? Or would he scream like these imbeciles. He didn’t think he was better than them. No, to think such a think would make him arrogant. He didn’t think he was. He hoped he wasn’t. But would he scream, he thought, coming back to the question. Would he scream? Two rounds left. He thought about his lassi. He was so excited.