Eastern Wild’s Extreme Racing

A fictional piece written for my writer’s group. Enjoy the nonsensical.

The crowd of spectators grew restless as the days progressed with still no sign of any contestants crossing the finish line for the Pacific Northwest’s Extreme Race across the Eastern Wild and back.  People waves crashed sporadically along the metal stands, all hoping to appear on the NASA-sized digital screen across the raceway. The camera crew swung from swings attached above the covered rows of seats, panning the crowd and scanning the horizon for signs of returning contestants.

The morning of the race the ten competing teams gloriously poised at the start line, each struggling to control their animals—some literally. Team number four, for instance, had to reign in their rhino-raffetah, a stem-celled masterpiece of cross breeding and counter cloning of a rhinoceros, giraffe and cheetah. Likewise, team seven’s herd of reindeered brushchomp-scapods nearly upset team three’s scorpionic tail, which could have resulted in the whole race being canceled due to its targeted stinging capabilities. The brushchomp-scapods were whipped back into place and the blasting flare was sounded. The teams were off.

They entered the Eastern Wild where each would fight for their life through the brambled blackberry misery that only true Northwesterners can understand. The Eastern Wild had not been entered in over four decades. Team nine quickly took the lead, pedaling their beaver-toothed tracking-tor across the terrain. A member of team five fell out of their mechanical stork-legged wicker basket and was immediately swallowed up by the well-armored, quick-growing bramble. The spectators heard him scream from the distant stands.

The reindeered brushchomp-scapods were faring well but their bellies jammed repeatedly and eventually failed altogether. Team two’s metallic mammal had a magnetic malfunction and managed to tangle with team one’s octo-gator. Five teams remained. They all kept a good distance between them and managed to stay in the race for over eight hours. Alas, team four’s rhino-raffetah collapsed soon after, once again exposing the flaws of a cellious biological approach to the race. Team nine’s beaver-toothed tracking-tor could’ve won but for the ravine they saw too late.

Team six’s shield of enhanced chemiological mist failed on their cobraic-crowned serpentiar, leaving them all choked up in multiple ways. Team ten persevered through the Eastern Wild’s brambly nightmare. However, the scotch broom forest beyond proved too much for their wearied bite-o-metric scissor-a-saurus.

In the end it was team eight who emerged victorious from the Eastern Wild days later. The least favored of all, team eight’s simplistic and natural approach showed the urban crowd that the Eastern Wild could be tamed with merely a compass, a small herd of goats, and two men with a tarp to keep the rain off during the long, monotonous days of munching goats.

 

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