“How old again?”Jeremy quipped, sarcasm and mirth tipping his lips smartly.
“40,” Al replied, “and don’t get all smart with me; I’m as fit as anyone 10 years younger, believe me,”
“Uh, huh!” Jeremy chuckled, reaching into the fridge for a can of Bud, “Want one? May as well, the hill is down from here,”
Al’s eyes rolled, “Just gimme..” he snatched the can from his old friend, and smiled with him.
They drank in silence. But Al could not let it go,
“I’m serious, man, I’ll race ya and I’ll win,”
Jeremy loved a challenge, “Really, eh?” he said putting the beer down, “Fine, from your laneway to the corner. We’ll see if your old legs still have it!”
Al agreed to the terms.
The two gentlemen stood on the road looking towards the stop-sign as their finish line.
“I’m so kickin’ your ass, dude,” Al laughed confidently.
“Right, get ready,”
They stood poised to run, hunched at the ready.
Al put his hand up, ‘Wait,"
Jeremy stopped and turned, "What’s wrong?"
Al rubbed his calf, “Gotta fricken cramp!”
Jeremy laughed. “Ya”