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Coming of Age Funny Friendship

Harris and I have been trampling the tarmac for decades now.

We know we’re a couple of fatties at heart, there’s no denying it. 

But if I cease my regular run, I’ll lose the bet and return to Fatsville.

I have a recurring nightmare about my wager with Harris. 

There’s tsunami of wobbling belly flab, thighs and bingo wings. 

It chases me across fields, down a high street and all the way back home.

Breathless, I slam the door behind me and it charges down my road.

I’m sure if I stop running, it’ll catch me.

God forbid that happens.

*  *  *

I don’t recall talking to Harris during my first week at junior school. It was a fortnight later that we got to know each other better. I remember being invited to his birthday party, along with everybody else. His mother hosted the event at a local church hall and went to town with the decorations. There were balloons, crisps and countless party games, all with edible gifts. We played tape-the-tail-on-the-donkey, musical chairs and pass the parcel; until everyone had won a prize. 

   Harris’ mother was a whirlwind of joyful energy and circulated bowls of salted nuts and sugary snacks. In between the contests, she swooped round the room, topping up our empty glasses with fizzy orange. It’s surprising any of us got any sleep during the next fortnight, considering all the sugar we consumed. 

   I remember feeling full when I returned home, going straight to bed and throwing up during the night. But what a party. Anyhow, restraint isn’t a concept that appeals to impressionable minds on encountering an endless river of sweets. To be fair, my parents never indulged my desire to consume sugary snacks, and I was blessed with strong teeth, unlike some of my peers; burdened by mouths full of lead before they were eight. The local dentist must have made his fortune with all the countless fillings.

*  *  *

The main reason I got to know Harris was because of our sporting prowess. Well, that’s true, but only because we lacked it. During the lunch break at junior school, everyone played school yard soccer. It was a rough and tumble version of the game we played twice a week on P.E. days. 

   Team selection was a simple process. The oldest pupils were the soccer experts and got to pick the sides. They’d choose the next most competent team members and so forth until there were two sides of equal number, plus a few reserves who’d watch from the sidelines, hoping they’d have time to join in. 

   After weeks of watching from the sidelines, Harris and I soon recognised our ranking. Yes, you got it. We played left-back. Our sporting prowess proceeded us, and we remained left back on the sidelines regularly. In retrospect, I can’t believe we aspired to scuffing our knees on rough asphalt and getting bruised like everyone else. The fact is, we kept our dubious reputations throughout our school years. As sporting duds, the only time we left-backs saw the ball was when we carried it back inside, after the school bell called time.  

 *  *  *

Six years of inactivity dragged by on the edge of the sports field until we moved up to big school together. In Britain, during the late 80s, if you were bright, you ended up at a rugby playing school. We both passed the entrance exams and faced the daunting prospect of compulsory rugby three times a week, and weekend fixtures.

   For my part, I’d lost any serious interest in team sports and it showed. My body had bulged and drooped awkwardly, and I dodged competitive physical activity. Ironically, this made me a perfect candidate for the most loathed position in any rugby team; ‘prop forward.’ 

   For those who might be unfamiliar with the term, a ‘prop forward’ is one of two players who carries the weight of half the team on his shoulders in the scrum. What’s a scrum? The scrum is the collision of both teams in a tight knot of heads, thighs and necks. It’s a spitting, grunting and shoving mass from the lower circles of Dante’s inferno and inescapable if you’re overweight at a rugby-playing school. The scrum is a strange place to make lifelong friends with anyone of a sound mind. I mean, who would choose to risk receiving a bust lip, possible concussion, or pair of cauliflower ears? 

   It’s the least attractive part of the British school system, but it’s guaranteed to cure you of any form of inhibition, except for being overweight. Harris and I were both prop forwards for our team’s weekly grudge match with the school’s regional adversaries. There were plenty of scores to settle against our regular opponents whose gruesome and mangled faces we learned to loathe. 

   We both pushed and shoved on behalf of our school’s honour for seven years and hated every minute. Saturdays weren’t our own anymore and three nights every week, we trained come what may, through the worst forms of winter weather known to mankind. However, it toughened us up and set us up for a lifetime’s wager and a bet that we still haven’t settled. 

   Oddly enough, it was our arch-enemies at school who were responsible for us shaking hands on our life’s challenge. Smithy and Duggers were a pair of arrogant thugs who made our lives a misery until the school expelled them, but not for causing trouble. Their fifth year exam results were so poor that even our dubious establishment had to draw a line and let them go. However, they ran amok before they left and tormented any unfortunate pupil who looked like a soft target. Harris and I were a couple of likely lads because of our ungainly physiques and unassuming dispositions. We skulked around the edges of life at school and kept low profiles, however the more we avoided Smithy and Duggers, the more they tormented us.

*  *  *

I was a 14 pound bouncing baby, born fat, and that’s a fact. My chubby cheeks and cheeky grin were my curse, even if they made old ladies smile. They’d pinch those rosy cheeks to my vexation and said, “What nice dimples and such a lovely moon face.”

   The name got around and everyone called me “Moon Face” at school. It started off as a spinster’s term of endearment and transformed into an emotional cattle prod that stabbed at my deepest neuroses. I could lurk in the shadows and wear flattering clothes that covered my awkward body, but I had big, jolly cheeks and a cheeky moon face. The extra thirty pounds I could handle, but my big moon face was another issue. 

*  *  *

Harris and I were both in denial and too scared to accept the truth.

We needed to admit there was no getting away from our genes. 

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter how many excuses we made up.

We were both fat, and that’s that; stout is a state of mind.

Running for Harris and me became a life choice.

It was a mission that we’re both committed to following.

Did we have a choice or do we have a choice? Well, yes and yes.

At an early age, we had a option to do something about our lives.

Harris and I created an exercise challenge that’s lasted a lifetime.

*  *  *

Once we’d graduated and gone our separate ways, the bet remained active. We’d meet occasionally to check on our waistlines. Maybe we’d go on a quick fast and pound round the block before catching up. I’ve got to say, over the years, Harris has never confessed to binging and neither have I. 

But you never really stop being a fatty. 

Once you’re stout, you’re stout for life. 

The temptation to snack never goes away. 

*  *  *

Last week, I got a text from Harris. It was thirty years since we shook hands and made our bet. We were still holding out and maintaining our promise. We knew we could never stop now. A life of regular exercise is addictive and one of us had a lot to lose.

Harris told me he had annual leave to take and said he’d be over to check I wasn’t cheating. I laughed and returned the joke. How did I know he wasn’t pigging out somewhere?

*  *  *

The day we discussed our wager was the first time in an age that I’d encountered Smithy and Duggers. It was a warm summer’s evening, and I ran by the river for a change. The River Thames has miles of towpaths with overhanging willows where one can enjoy a run; deserted walkways with the occasional picturesque pub. It would be a pleasant change to rest for a while by the flowing waters and order a refreshing juice. However, who should I encounter, but our ancient nemeses? 

   Smithy and Duggers were sipping their pints of beer outside The City Barge Pub; their feet propped on the wooden table, burger stains on the sleeveless cotton vests and swollen guts hanging over their belts. 

What was it Smithy said one day?

Yep, sure, I recall, “Use it or lose.” 

I’ve had to work at it all my adult life. 

I’m just one of nature’s fatties. 

So, I never stop running. 

That’s my curse. 

“Hey!” Duggers pointed at me. “Here’s comes Michelin man.”

“Me?” I say, looking left and right. 

“Run, fatso, run!” Smithy said, as I pause for breath. 

He looks me up and down with a sneer on his lips.

“You’ve still got a moon face,” he says, cocking his head like a dumb parrot.

“Do I look like the Michelin man to you?”

“Well,” he said, smirking. “You’ve still got a moon face.”

“Yeah, right?” I said. “I’m Moon Face, all right.” 

“You can’t run forever!” 

I pick up the pace.

They waddle after me, yelling ancient jibes. 

I’ve not heard their childish insults for decades. 

I heard them spluttering their taunts in the distance until, breathless and outpaced, they quit their calls and returned to their beer and cigarettes with swollen limbs and aching bones.

*  *  *

“Shall we call a truce?” 

“You mean end the wager?” 

“Well it’s been a lifetime, Harris.” 

“Fine by me,” he said, offering his hand. 

We talk and laugh about Smithy and Duggers. 

Surely, they are the hopeless fatties now? 

We chuckle and believe our conceit. 

But later, at home, I order a takeout; two litres of regular coke and four tubs of Ben and Jerry’s ‘Phish Food.’

I eat the lot by myself and kick back. 

The weight’s gone forever, that’s for sure. 

Tonight’s just a one off, I promise myself. 

I’m not a fatty anymore and proud of it. 


The End







February 03, 2024 04:55

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37 comments

Helen A Smith
17:23 Feb 04, 2024

Really great story about friendship and surviving the torments of school. Bullies are hideous and it’s difficult to see them as the pathetic creatures they surely are. Smithy and Duggers certainly deserved each other! I’m with Mary about the knees. I definitely couldn’t go running without trouble, although swimming is good. Engaging and easy to read.

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Howard Halsall
19:59 Feb 04, 2024

Hello Helen, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughts. I hope my tale didn’t bring back any unpleasant memories about bullies at school. It’s staggering what kind of impact a couple of thugs can have on one’s life at school and afterwards too; the long term effects are incalculable in my opinion. So, thank goodness modern schools appear to clamp down on that antisocial behaviour and pupils no longer worry about speaking up and blowing a whistle. On the exercise theme, yes, swimming is fantastic for one’s health and yoga is a...

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Helen A Smith
21:17 Feb 04, 2024

Hi Howard, I’ve long been able to accept any past stuff at school, but sadly I know of a modern day case of bullying at school which has been devastating and you’re right the long-term effects can be incalculable. Although great strides have been made, it’s clearly something that is still going on. Maybe even more so in the form of cyber bullying. If you get time, give my story True Beauty a read. It’s on the subject of bullying and I’m proud of it. I do a little yoga, but need to do more. I damaged my ankle about six years ago which mak...

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AR R
02:09 Feb 08, 2024

I really enjoyed this. You pull the reader right in. There are a few places (IMO) you can really tighten the screws to make some of the lines hit even harder, and a few random tense switches, but just give it a quick pass and you're golden. Totally irrelevant to the poignancy of the story, but I would want to know if it were me, so not trying to be grammar police haha. You have a real knack for turning phrases - this one made me laugh: "My chubby cheeks and cheeky grin were my curse, even if they made old ladies smile." Not only is it cleve...

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Howard Halsall
09:39 Feb 08, 2024

Hello AR, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughtful remarks; they’re much appreciated. I welcome any constructive criticism and find your comments useful; it’s just a shame I didn’t clock the technical mistakes before uploading, but I guess that’s all part of it. Take care HH

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Paul Littler
07:28 Feb 07, 2024

Great fun and really identifiable. My favourite line, “stout is a state of mind,” could be a Sparks song title. Love the stories, looking forward to the next one

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Howard Halsall
08:51 Feb 07, 2024

Hey Paul, Thank you for reading my story and leaving your positive comments; they’re much appreciated. I’m glad you enjoyed the latest tale, pleased you’ll return to check more of my yarns and look forward to writing more in the future. HH :)

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Aaron Bowen
13:12 Feb 05, 2024

My favorite line from this piece is, "We chuckle and believe our conceit." The deliberate minimalism in it, I think, is an admirable example of a style that I've always struggled to imitate. Reminds me of Cormac McCarthy.

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Howard Halsall
13:41 Feb 05, 2024

Hello Aaron, Thank you for reading my latest story and sharing your thoughts. I’m pleased you enjoyed it and flattered by your comparison; Mr McCarthy is a hard act to follow or even imitate. His paratactic use of language has a surgical precision that’s second to none. However, given an aeon, maybe…. HH

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Jonathan Page
01:12 Feb 05, 2024

Tremendous story, Howard. I guess the wounds of youth never heal, but they do form us. I think a lot of people can identify with this one! Brilliantly told!

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Howard Halsall
07:31 Feb 05, 2024

Hey Jonathan, Thank you for reading my story and leaving your positive feedback; it’s much appreciated. I reckon you’re right about the ‘wounds of youth’ not healing, but there’s plenty one can do to recover both physically and mentally; time and laughter are positive forces and reliable allies to that end. Take care HH

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Angela M
14:01 Feb 04, 2024

Staying active can be so tough! You truly captured that in this story. I love the triumphant ending!

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Howard Halsall
19:44 Feb 04, 2024

Hello Angela, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughts. I think the key to staying active is twofold, if you’ll humour me for a minute. The first element is to incorporate some form of exercise into your daily routine, for instance - walk or cycle to work. In London it’s less painful than driving and more enjoyable than the tube. The second element is to engage in that activity regardless of the weather because, in my experience, there is never s perfect day to exercise outside, so therefore you just need to get out and do it...

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Alexis Araneta
13:23 Feb 04, 2024

Oof ! I was hopeless at sport (still am), so this resonates with me. Great job !

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Howard Halsall
19:34 Feb 04, 2024

Hello Stella, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your confession. I’m pleased you enjoyed it and hope the memories of P.E. and sport at school aren’t too painful… HH :)

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Alexis Araneta
02:18 Feb 05, 2024

I suppose talking about my incompetence through humour helps. Hahaha !

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Howard Halsall
04:53 Feb 05, 2024

Hey Stella, At the end of the day we can only laugh about it and smile. Somebody once said, “laughter is the one thing that separates us from the animal kingdom…” It’s very true. :)

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Claire Trbovic
10:23 Feb 04, 2024

Ah Howard, as a fellow Brit I share the school trauma, only it was hockey related! When you described running down the Thames I was right there with you, used to run there often from Hammersmith Enough with the nostalgia, your line ‘It started off as a spinster’s term of endearment and transformed into an emotional cattle prod’ is an absolute A*

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Howard Halsall
19:30 Feb 04, 2024

Hello Claire, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughts. I agree with your comment about the British school trauma; it’s kill-or-cure approach and a character deforming experience to be sure…. Ooops! I meant character ‘forming’ experience…. However, we all get through it and move onward and learn to cope. Cope with the elements for the most part; we played in howling gales, hailstones and six inches of snow on one occasion. In fact, we lost the ball for a time in a deep drift, after the fly-half misjudged his penalty kick. I ...

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Mary Bendickson
20:25 Feb 03, 2024

Congrats on beating the fats. I stayed active my whole life trying to stay ahead of it until my knees gave out and I gave in or caved in. Used to have washboard abs, now have the whole tub. Thanks for liking 'Another Brick in the Wall '.

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Howard Halsall
22:19 Feb 03, 2024

Hey Mary, I’m so sorry to hear about your knees. I’m convinced you could improve your situation with some low impact exercise like swimming, for instance, I highly recommend it for physical and mental benefits too. I’m told it’s excellent for strengthening dodgy knees. Just a thought :)

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Mary Bendickson
22:48 Feb 03, 2024

Yes, I do that in summer and may try the Y.

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Trudy Jas
18:57 Feb 03, 2024

Childhood, good or bad, stays with us forever. Especially the bad stuff. Happy for Moon face and Harris that they stuck with their wager. Personally? I'm a skinny who sat down and isn't skinny anymore. oh well... ":-}

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Howard Halsall
19:14 Feb 03, 2024

Hello Trudy, Thank you reading my story and sharing your thoughts and personal experience. The school years can be scarring as you suggest and harsh in every country. However, the system in Britain seems particularly geared to a level of dehumanisation that beggars belief. It churns out soldiers who unquestioningly follow leaders who have little empathy and/or sympathy for their fellow human beings with minds fixed on conquest and exploitation of the weak and feeble. Anyway, don’t get me started on that one….. HH :)

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Trudy Jas
19:21 Feb 03, 2024

Oops, sorry. But I think I did get you started on that one. :-) Yeah. It wasn't that bad in the Netherlands, at least not when I was growing up. And my parents didn't give a hoot about whether we did sports. But's pretty hard core in the states as well. Jocks vs. geeks. But at least there is no forced participation (except in pe class - don't get me started on rope climbing). :-)

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Howard Halsall
22:55 Feb 03, 2024

Hmmm…. I hear what you’re saying. I was never any good at gymnastics class, especially the rope climbing routine, I’ve awful memories about that discipline. :)

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Trudy Jas
23:35 Feb 03, 2024

Now, speed skating is a religion over there, of course. Will preempt even football. Go orange! LOL

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Howard Halsall
23:48 Feb 03, 2024

Hmmm… in my mind hat conjures up an image of clerics offering mass as they glide round an ice-rink, wafting incense and muttering incantations in Latin from ancient, barely legible tomes to a congregation advancing in prescribed formations before retreating to confess their sins to a priest awarding marks out of ten for: grace, poise and interpretation or some such situation….. :)

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Hannah Lynn
16:44 Feb 03, 2024

Ugh those awful days of picking teams in gym class!!! Why why why did they do that to us??? Not everyone is athletic!!

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Howard Halsall
19:01 Feb 03, 2024

Hello Hannah, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your reaction. Yep, it was brutal in the playground and lawless for the most part too. I’m still amazed just how cruel and merciless kids could be to each other and God help the ones with weight issues; no chance of developing any self esteem whatsoever. HH :)

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David Sweet
15:28 Feb 03, 2024

I have been a fatty all of my life as well. Kudos for this character to take on the challenge. Myself and the other fat kid in our 4th grade class were the only two not selected for the basketball team (I also couldn't dribble, except for food on my chins, haha). I was king of Red Rover at recess though. Freight train was my nickname. That fat kid will chase you your entire life that's for sure. I enjoyed this very relatable story IMMENSLEY.

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Howard Halsall
15:47 Feb 03, 2024

Hello David, Thank you for reading my story and sharing your thoughts and personal experience. I’m pleased you enjoyed it and could offer your own perspective. School can be a harsh environment and I recall that teachers could be as cruel as fellow students. But we find ways to survive and thrive beyond that time. We have to, don’t we? Take care HH

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David Sweet
17:13 Feb 03, 2024

Absolutely! I look forward to reading your work.

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