Two Wheel Tuesday: No Complaints

"What's your name?" He was asked.

My name... absently replied.

"Your name is Henry."

My name is Henry; it was spoken neither as a question, nor as an affirmative answer to a question, but as if a response to some mystery having been revealed - My name is HENry.

It must have been the stench, the suddenness of it enough to addle anyone's mind. There I was charging up the rise, you know, the whole keeping your momentum up thing. Up at the top Pepe le Pew whirled around, the better to see this new threat, clattering, racing toward him and, at the same second, letting loose a stream at the cluster of folks watching him from the roadway. I don't know if anyone was actually hit; maybe the shouts were shock and awe, as opposed to revulsion and disgust. Skidding to a stop Pepe must have decided I was no threat, or at least less so than the cluster of folks now backed way off, and simply turned and scurried on his way up the road.

Tuesday night and I have no complaints!