Golberg just absoluletly LOVED runnning. There was nothing in the world he would rather do, than run. And when he wasn’t running he was sleeping. Or eating. And when he was sleeping he dreamt of running and when he was eating... well, he just ate. No one could really understand (or even tried to understand, for that matter) how much he actually loved running.
If destiny exists… this was his. To run.
One day however, as the sun was beginning to come up behind some mountains, Goldberg woke up and noticed something weird. He couldn’t run. He simply couldn’t.
See, his running ability had for some inexplicable reason decided to go in a fishing trip to the deep rivers of the Amazon rainforest for a week or two, leaving Goldberg with nothing left but his walking ability (which wasn’t really Golberg’s favorite means of transportation).
What was Golberg to do now? He tried playing Nintendo for a while, but soon gave up after being eaten ten times by the horrible monsters just outside level two.
He decided to take up painting. But that didn’t work because, as it turned out, Golberg’s painting ability was about as big as a seagull’s chances of telling you the exact address and phone number of that pub in Islington where they serve stuffed seagull in shrimp juice. Which, in case you are wondering, are not very good.
Golberg was devastated. He went around town picturing himself running along the boulevard, running to the movies, running and having a maltshake... he pictured himself and his runnning ability having fun like in the old days.
That’s when it happened. He realized what he had to do. He had come to the conclusion that he and his running ability had to spend some time apart in order for Goldberg to find other things to do. What took him so long to get to this conclusion is beyond me and any of the sociologists who have investigated Goldberg’s life.
He decided he was going to call up his other abilities – the one’s he’d lost a bit of touch with since he began running – to see what they had been up to. He tried his jumping ability first, but he realized in order to jump he had to run, so he dropped that. Then he tried his ‘walking with his hands’ ability, but soon enough realized it was a pretty silly thing to do. Especially on a Thursday, which that day just happened to be. That’s when he decided he would try his reading ability. So he took up an old dusty book he had lying around somewhere and began reading it. This was it, he finally found something he enjoyed almost as much as running. The book was actually very, very good. Or so it seemed at least, until he got to the second sentence and after being completely bored by it, decided to quit reading too.
He couldn’t do anything. He was missing his running too much. The seconds seemed longer, the minutes seemed longer, the hours seemed longer, the... well, you get the idea.
Nothing he did seemed to get his mind off the idea that he missed running.
He tried pretending he could run, but that only made him miss it more. He tried calling it on the phone, but abilities can’t really use a phone – they don’t really have the opposing thumb, you see. So now, Goldberg had two problems. Well, no, not really, just the one actually – but I’m told that line is commonly used, and I thought it might fit in nicely here.
What Goldberg now decided to do, was sleep. And so, he hid himself under the sheets of his italian bed and slept, and slept, and slept. About six or ten days later, he woke up and right there next to him, standing in a Dolce & Gabana sweater, smiling the kind of smile you only get out of dumb teeenagers after they get your order at McDonald’s right, was his running ability!! And so, he ran and ran happily ever after.
The moral of this story:
Sometimes inspiration ALSO takes trips to exotic lands... even if it happens very close to the end of a story.
Up next: And thus, tables are round (you'll see how much shorter than this one it is), but first, a picture of a moose:
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