The Runner

I don’t know who The Runner is, but I hate him.

I hate everything about him.

I hate his big, beefy frame packed into clothes one size too small. I hate his cheap, 10-dollar haircut. I hate his short-sleeved business casual work outfit. I hate the fact that there is never any doubt that it is he who is coming up behind me, thanks to the unmistakable clomping of his frenzied, lopsided pace and the HUUH, HUUH of his labored breathing as he races to get to the station.

And I hate the fact that this happens Every. Damn. Day.

Jesus Christ, man. The Japanese public transportation system is arguably the most efficient of its kind in the world. You can literally set your watch to it, because unless some inconsiderate asshole has decided to commit Chuocide and use it as a means of offing himself (which happens easily once a month — yeah, I hate you guys, too), the train will be there exactly when it’s supposed to be. The vehicle that is scheduled to pull out of the station at 7:36 am will fucking leave at 7:36 am. There is no surprise involved! If your dumb ass would simply wake up five minutes earlier, there would be no need for you to go tearing down the street, damn near bowling into people and generally making a twat out of yourself.

Every. Damn. Day.



2 Responses

  1. Has it occurred to you that you might be living a Groundhog Day-like existence? You could practice each day the precise moment when to stick your leg out as The Runner passes by and award yourself points on the aesthetic finesse of the resulting sprawl.

    By the way I too have a cheap, 10 dollar (OK, 1000 yen) haircut, will you hate me for that?

  2. 走れメロス, eh? That was one of the first books I read in Japanese. Still have it, I think. Good stuff.

    As far as the runner goes, I take the low road as often as I can and put an elbow or shoulder into the guy. That’s no shit.

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