Harry Harrem shaded his good eye and looked back over the
race course. Where was that sorry excuse for a runner? Here the finish line was a foot away and Terrence wasn’t even in sight. This was way too easy. There had to be a catch somewhere.
“Guess I’ll just take a look over the field!” he thought. He sprinted through the maples and dashed through the thistles. He found Terrence huffing along halfway through the lane.
Harry hopped over to Terrence and walked alongside for a few steps. “Put on some steam and let’s get this show on the road!” He hopped in place and tapped on Terrence’s shell. “You in there, ol’ buddy?”
“Slow and steady wins the race,” came a slow drawl from deep inside the shell.
“Yeah, I see that emblazoned across your yardarm! Well, you race your way and I’ll race mine. See you at the finish line if you ever get there!” And Harry dashed off over the hill, muttering about a dull brain and short legs.
Back at the yellow stripe that marked the end of the race, Harry yawned. “Hmmm, I’ve got time for a nap! Better make a few arrangements first, though.” Soon the speedster was curled up next to the finish line having a rather exciting dream.
Suddenly he was jerked awake by a clatter of cans and bottles. He sat up and there was Terrence calmly shoving aside the alarm system he’d set up. He stood at attention as Terrence came close. Then, he stuck his big toe over the line and bowed. “Welcome home, slowpoke! You just lost the race! Call me fast but don’t call me stupid!”
Brother Aesop sighed and threw away another fable.