Snowflake

Donnie finished the race in first place, he knew that he would. All of his fans knew that he would too. They were the reason he got into this in the first place. His son was going to be in the middle of the race. Donnie decided to teach him the ropes and the next move was his own. He knew that he would learn on his own and move past his fathers' reputation. That was just the thick of it.

The rest would become history of its' own accord. A parallel chance to end up more than his father was. That was bound to blow up in his face if he did not watch closely. Otherwise this would be a current battle to bypass. The spectrum analysis is not what it chose to be.

Alan wanted to show Donnie, his father, that the season for another bicycle race was soon to pass. He couldn't concentrate well in this light. And in the meantime one of his competitors would unravel his intelligence. Bypassing the current situation. Surgery was something that he did not want. Or could afford.

The second round of a popularity contest was about to begin. It would be something else to go around the fire. Adapting to another round of therapy. Slowness was something that he could ring out. Sometimes when push came to shove he would melt under the pressure. And pop back into the round of subconscious thinking. It was all thanks to me..

Boundaries were meant to be broken. Not his boundaries but others. On the sudden thoughts of outrage, Alan was about to come up into his own light of satisfaction. He had no filter at all.

Although sometimes the boundaries could be broken in two. They could be broken into three pieces. Or four? Let's find out if this true. Retribution should be at hand. Back to the race we should go back to. He was pessimistic about finishing this race of life anyways. Everybody would be cheering him on, why wouldn't they? They knew that it would be the race of a century.

And then they would cheer him forever. A cheer that would last a long time, over. Sometimes he would hear the crowd push him over and above his limit of reason. The race was about to start over again, and then, they would all be too scared to react. That would be a bad thing to handle. If handling was what they wanted to do. He could never make up his mind on that sort of thing. It was bound to be a bad reaction. In the end Donnie handled everything with grace and hope. He rang in at 201.2 lbs. That was heavy enough to qualify for another outbound race.

A race to end all of the others' combined. It's was a morbid way to total all of the loving conditions of a powerhouse drill. What was on his mind no-one could handle, or even try to find out on their own, and back track a second or two through the handle of a madman's hammer and nail. An outrageous coup de tat of powerhouse proportions. In the end all could be forgiven towards another powder keg of anti-trust.

A keg that would tip over the boundaries of fortitude whilst giving an advantage of an overachiever's legality. Something that in time would parallel to it all in one bound. And that my friends is close to the end of our tale. To be told at a different place and time. Farewell to the winners circle of mistrust.