"Squat-Body Sam", Chapter Three

An added chapter of 'Squat-Body Sam'! If you want to read this, I would recommend starting with 'Squat-Body Sam'; otherwise, you won't be getting the entire sense-around experience!

Chapter Three:

     Sam lay on his bed, and let the waves of despair wash over him like a big lump of s**t washed up on the beach. He was a failure; a failure at every sport he had ever attempted. It was his dream to make a name for himself in professional sports, but the only name he’d managed to make for himself was, “Embarrassing Loser-Boy”. He just had to face it, he was a loser! Maybe it was time to give up on his pipe-dream, and get some boring job that killed your spirit and beat you down to nothing, like so many zombies he saw pass by his window every morning and evening. Automatons with no hope of ever breaking free of the shackles of a pitiful paycheck every two weeks. The thought made him shudder. He knew he’d have to get up, eventually, but why?

     As he shoveled his way through a bowl of tasteless breakfast flakes of dubious quality, his depressed eyes scanned the morning paper. He dispiritedly set aside the want ads for employment, but he dreaded even looking at it. Instead, he had the section of dreams spread out before him, the sports section. Photos of grid iron glory being heaped on a player reminded Sam of what a loser he was.

     Look at those guys; I should be one of them! he thought, bitterly. Of course, pro football was only one of many sports he had tried, and failed at, miserably. Pick a sport, any sport, and he had not only failed at it, he had set the failure bar so low, that people where still amazed how he could have sucked so bad.

     “Look at how low that bar is set, and yet Embarrassing Loser-Boy couldn’t even clear that!” was what they were saying. His mood matched the gray drizzle that fell like his dreams from the low-hanging gray clouds on this fall day. He just had to face it; he was too short, too wide, and too uncoordinated to make it in sports, He had the spirit and drive, but not the skill, to make it. Oh well, it was time to close the dream page, and open the dream-killer page that was the help-wanted section. He was folding up the sports section, when his saddened eyes took one last glance, and noticed a helmeted race car driver with his arm raised in triumph and sticking skyward out of his rolled down stock car window. He had just won a race, and Sam thought,

     Look at that; it must be nice! He hadn’t given up, and now he was a champion!

      Suddenly, new hope raised up in him. There were plenty of sports out there; he just had to find the perfect one for him, but what?

     It was a lazy Sunday morning, as Sam porked down bacon and eggs, while he watched downhill ski racing on T.V. Wouldn’t that be cool if it he was a downhill racer? He was a firm believer in self-confidence; that if he believed in himself, there was nothing he couldn’t achieve. He glanced at the T.V. screen, showing the triumphant smile of a guy who had just won a race. It sure looked cool and exciting. What the hell, he would try it!

     The snow was falling, well, like snow, as Sam rode the ski lift up to the top of the Blizzard Mountain ski area. Sure, it was only the local ski area, but he needed to practice before turning professional. He didn’t want to start out on smaller jumps, either. No, he wasn’t very good at skiing, but he could remain standing, at least, after all, wasn’t that the point; to remain standing? Besides, he didn’t want to wait; he wanted to be a be a downhill racing star, now! He stumbled off the ski lift, and looked down over the course. It wasn’t the course he was supposed to be on, but that course was for beginners! No, he’d snuck over to this course. He knew that technically, he was a beginner, but who had time to start at the bottom? Besides, that warning was for other people. He was different.

     

     As he reached the top of the downhill course, he saw the ‘Trained Professionals Only’ warning sign, and chuckled to himself, although it did look a tad steep. Oh well, ‘Tally Ho; Look Out Below!” He saw a man with a badge notice him, yell, then starting over to him. Oh no; time to go! and he pushed off down the hill. Faster and faster he went, rapidly approaching the first gate; which he flew past, because he had locked his knees in fright. If he’d had any brains at all, he would have fallen down in a controlled way, but fear does funny things to a person. All he could think about was how fast the scenery was flying past. He was put into a trance by the moving-by-unbelievably-fast snow. Soon, he was going about 1,000 miles an hour, or so it seemed to him.  There was a ramp that led out onto a ski jump straight ahead, with several people in line to take their turn. Sam started screaming at the top of his lungs,

     “Get out of the way; get out of the way!”

     The astonished skiers looked up to see a dude streaking towards them, and barely had time to dive out of the way. Then, from the snow-covered ground, they watched the rapidly-descending back of the guy, as he hit the bottom of the ramp, and soared into the sky; his screams sounding very much like a large animal in distress. They were the screams of a guy scared out of his mind.

     Sam realized he was well out of his comfort zone. As he watched the snow-covered ground, as well as seemingly the snow-covered trees, sailing by, he knew he was in terrible trouble. He heard a high-pitched wailing sound, and was shocked to realize it was him; what the hell had he been thinkin...he had stated to think this, when his thoughts were interrupted by the frozen ground slamming into him, and he found himself pin wheeling, end over end, down the ski slope, before slowly slowing down and coming to a stop.

     He hurt all over; even blinking seemed to send waves of agony through him. No, it wasn’t that bad, but it sure seemed like it. He looked out of his hospital room window at the silently-falling snow, and shuddered. Just a ways up the road, he had tried his nature’s bird routine, and failed miserably. He sighed a sigh of defeat. Boy had his impatience cost him this time!

Reviews

[Junert]

I remember how bad Sam got it with football, then golf. And when I saw race car I just though, God, NO! Even ski racing is a cool one for Sam. Bet he'd have died had he gone for car racing.

[Michael Stevens]

Please, don't give him any ideas!

[Junert]

Hahaha he'd do that too.