Short Story: Underdog

I never liked going for the easy picks, the 4 or 2 to 1’s. The way I saw it was, since I don’t have much to spend, I figure it’s more worth it to bet on the 25’s or 27’s, since it would be more payout, even though I could only put so much in. After all, someone has to root for the little guy.

The race is starting. The jockey on my 24/1 horse firmly plants themselves on the determined steed. With a fire in its eyes, the majestic beast gets a good leap at the start, galloping ahead of the 16/1 and the 12/1. The creature is proud, but still maintains laser focus on the finish line. The stallion channels a pure evolutionary instinct to run, never thinking of stopping. Even from so far away, he could feel the impact of the ribbon at the finish line, his sheer willpower slicing through it like a machete.

4th place.

The walk home lost the sense of shame it once had after a lost race. The impact of the disappointment is now more or less equivalent to spilling water on myself in the car or finding pickles in my should-be-pickleless burger. Another nuisance that fell victim to the law of diminishing returns was walking through the door and hearing the creak that had haunted me since I started living in this apartment. The cause of the sound is a mystery to me and the 12 friends I‘ve shown it to.
I loosen my tie and check my email to find students asking for redos on their exams, extensions on assignments, and extra credit. I always accept since, I too, was once a lowly statistics student scrambling for extra points.

Grading assignments in my bedroom feels too out of place for me, like eating chicken strips in a gas station. So I go across the street to the coffee shop that is not only more expensive than Starbucks, but far worse in quality. I buy a day-old scone and black coffee that somehow tastes sweet, and I get to work. 

The feng shui wasn’t the only reason I went there, there was a barista that always waved at me when I entered the store. I wasn’t sure if she recognized me from somewhere, or if she just knew I was a regular and wanted to be nice. We’d catch each other staring at one another, I thought of going up and talking to her a couple times but never felt like it would go anywhere. After all, she could just be staring at me because I’m the asshole who orders two things and thinks he can sit in the store for four hours.

I enter my apartment unsure if it would’ve made a difference if I had or hadn’t come back. Of course, I knew it wouldn’t have mattered. My life has been a series of self inflicted losses. Someone has to lose right? I was convinced it would always be me. I’ve always found some strange sense of comfort in that, however. That, since I’m bound to lose, I will never have to face the pressures of success or the change that comes with it. My life is stagnant and I have always been ok with that.

But not anymore. I grab my wallet and secure it in my left pant pocket. With a fire in my eyes I go up to the door, stopping myself from turning the door knob, and instead kicking the door off its hinges. I ran out of my apartment building, first seeing the coffee shop. I race in quickly, scribble my phone number on a table napkin, and give it to the barista. Before she could say she’d give me a call, I was already sprinting towards the horse race house. From two blocks away, I could see the 30/1 horse tear through the finish line ribbon.

1st place.

Hey there! Took a lot of time to find the idea for this one. I was really stuck for a while, but nothing beats just trying something and figuring it out from there. Had a lot fun writing this one and pretty proud of what it turned into. The most fun part to write was the description of the first horse race. I loved trying to perfect the sentences and refine the language. Hope you like this one, and thanks for reading!