Johnny was keenly observing his two friends Timothy Thin and Sally Stout as both of them decided to engage in friendly race once again. Well, this had been going on for a quite a while and for some strange reason, which Johnny was not able to understand, it was mostly Timothy who crossed the finish line first. This left everyone in his circle perplexed. Was Sally cursed? Was there a giant, ghoulish imp perched on his shoulders that always held him back? Or was Sally, the tiny fat creature that he was, too lazy to run and win the race. This had always been a topic of discussion in Johnny’s weekly meetings with his friends and they had not been able to come up with a reasonable and satisfactory explanation.
Johnny, inspite of Sally’s repeated failure, had a soft corner for him and wanted him to win. He sat with his eyes fixed at both of them, praying that this time Sally would not let him down. He cheered with all his might, clapped his hand as hard as he could but in vain. Sally refused to budge. He was rooted to his place like a giant, ancient rock. Meanwhile, Timothy kept walking at a fast and consistent pace, making his way towards the finish line. Johnny knew that Sally was actually moving. But his movements were glacial, almost imperceptible. Johnny threw his hands up in frustration. His fat friend was about to lose one more race and he did not have the heart to see that happen.
After a while, the race almost came to an end. Timothy kept walking. He was barely five steps away from victory and his heart began to pound. He beamed from ear to ear. “I have done it! Again! Mummy will be so proud of me!” With these thoughts in his mind, Timothy took the last five steps and touched “12”. Lazy Sally, who was still stuck at “10”, hung his head in shame.
The little blue bird sprang out of the wall clock and announced that it was ten pm. Johnny pulled the blanket over his head and went to sleep. It was time for him to visit his dreamland and play with goblins and elves.