Eat My Shit

EAT MY SHIT

Tim closed the work shop door and locked it with several different bolts. It was only now that he turned on the light. None of his alarms had been tripped, so he dialed in the combination that lifted the security cloak from his prized racer.

This year was going to be different. “I’ll be damned if anybody is going to steal my ideas this year!”

Last year, his idea to use the tank bolt holes for extra thrust had been copied. Even now he regretted his stupidity. His only excuse was that he was very young. That was the whole point though. He wanted to be the first person to ever win on their first race. Unfortunately however, he had gotten into a drinking match with some other racers, and then he let his mouth get loose.

“I swear those sons-o-bitches put something in my drink! I’ll teach them though. This year I’ll tip the winner’s cup while grinning right at them!” He suddenly laughed out loud, to a point that might scare anybody watching. “All they’re going to see, will be my exhaust and the bottoms of my racing boots!”

He picked up the boots and checked them again before putting them in his pack. Written clearly on the soles, were two words in high viz ink.

The proximity alarm sounded to tell him that he had a visitor, so he checked the outside cam. This one was expected, so Tim wasn’t worried. The transport had come to take his pride and joy to the spaceport.  He set all the new traps, and opened the big outside door.

He called to the first man out of the vehicle. “Hey you. What’s your name?”

The man shook his head and mumbled just loud enough to be heard. “Another bleeding newbie! Just call me Bob, and yes, I’m the man in charge.” It seemed that he’d been through this kind of thing before. “Just give me your security tests and codes would you please? I have another eight racers to pick-up tonight! If every one of them is as ‘security’ crazy as you, it won’t make any difference at all. By the time we get to the space-port, the race will have been run and you’ll be one of the last!”

Tim started out embarrassed, but soon got mad. “Listen to me you arrogant asshole! It only took those thieves minutes to copy my entry last year! I’m stuck doing this all by myself, while they have massive sponsors. You will be the only person who will remain fully intact if you enter this security screen. If you want me to rush this procedure I will, but it could be detrimental to your health. If your DNA sample isn’t inputted just right, one of my lasers just might blow-off your balls. While you might consider this to be severe, future generations might be happy to have had someone with your minor intelligence removed from the gene pool!”

Bob walked over and stood directly in front of Tim. The difference was hard not to laugh about. Tim was 5’2” tall, and could probably use a wet paper towel for a hammock, while Bob looked like he could eat an entire farm and still be hungry.

“I have to give it to you racers. It makes perfect sense though. You either have more guts than brains, or you were dropped several times as a baby.” He shook his head and laughed, but never-the-less, he held his hand out. “I’ve heard some great threats, but yours is definitely one of the best. Unless this is some kind of a weird test, maybe I should be insulted. You and I both know that weapons are not allowed aboard a shuttle. Now as I said, I have another eight racers to collect tonight. I also have a super-model laying in her bed awaiting the best night of her life. Unless you also have a cloaking field hiding your incredibly seductive body, I would suggest that we complete our business very soon!”

Tim knew when he was beaten. This man knew his business. “Ok Bob. Put your hand in here.”

Bob was already doing that. “Listen Mister. I’ve run into a lot of you suicidal idiots in my time, but you take the cake. I’ve never taken sides before, but I want to wish you good luck! I really hope you survive!” With that said, he loaded the racer and left.

Tim stood for a moment looking out the big door, and then he almost cried. Maybe Bob was right. Maybe Tim had gone crazy. Even if he won the race, the prize money would just barely pay the expenses. It would mean that he’d be one of those people with a team and expense account like those sponsored jerks who had screwed him over last year. Is that the life he wanted, or did he want a good woman to help him live a whole and purposeful life? It didn’t matter very much right now. He needed to get to the port now too. Lift-off was in two hours, and the race would start eight hours later after the raceships arrived.

That eight hours passed quickly of course. Here aboard the pit ship, there was always something to be done. The tank lids were removed and a measured amount of fuel was added. There was absolutely no chance of Tim’s designs being stolen now. The only chance of screwing with the race now, was to sabotage the competition. Armed security guards saw to that possibility, and they would make Bob look small.

The time to reconsider your choices and designs came and went just as fast, and soon the race began.

There was no stopping now! Once you pushed that flush lever, all hell broke loose and you had just better hold on. One of Tim’s new changes was to counter-spring his arms so that he could adjust course when he needed, and the other was at the thruster core at the bottom of the best commode ever built.

Many of you have heard of bathtub races, and so had our inventor. Maybe he had a strange sense of humor, or maybe he should have been drowned in a sack at birth. His trillion-dollar prize for anyone completing the race in 10 hours was still impossible, but not forgotten.

Many people had died while trying to complete the race, and the governments had tried to stop it, but it proved a big money maker. An entirely new business grew out of building a fast scooter resembling a toilet and racing from Earth orbit to the moon. Once there, the pilot would abandon the creation he or she had worked so hard on, and be captured by a tensor field. Of course, that all depended on how close the pilot had calculated his trajectory.

There was a kind of graveyard of dead frozen bodies of those who had missed, and now Tim was one of them. Even with all his advancements, he was moving too fast as he went past the moon. He was the clear winner, and everybody agreed on the message written on those boots. It was very simple, but it told the story in a way that only those behind him could see.

All it said, was:

EAT MY SHIT!