Time To Run

Grandpa woke up from his doze just as Teddy, his grandson, came into the living room, wearing running shorts and a moisture-wicking shirt.

“I tell you, Teddy,” Grandpa said, “it was mighty nice of your parents to move me into the guest bedroom rather than a nursing home. But I think, of all the perks, this one is the greatest: getting to see you when you’re back home from college.”

“Aww, thanks grandpa,” Teddy said. “It’s always great to see you too!”

“Now, I don’t think I’d do too well at a game of table tennis, but what about a round of backgammon?” Grandpa said. “We could set the board up right here on the side table.”

“That sounds great,” Teddy said. “But I’d like to get a run in before we get this rain they’re forecasting. How about a little later?”

“If I’m awake,” Grandpa said with a grin.

“You got it!” Teddy said. Then he popped a piece of gum into his mouth and made his way to the front door.

“Say, what was that?” grandpa called after him. “You aren’t on the drugs are you?”

Teddy stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “Ha! No, grandpa! It’s just something called Run Gum. Basically, it’s–”

“Oh, you don’t have to explain to me,” Grandpa said. “That’s been around for a while.”

“Really?” Teddy said, his hand falling from the knob. “I didn’t realize.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” grandpa said. “I know it all too well. A man comes to town, pulling a wagon full of wares, promising all sorts of things. He asks you what you want most in the world and you say, ‘a change of scenery.’ It’s supposed to put him off, but he doesn’t miss a beat. Tells you he’s got something for that. Takes out a wad of this stuff. Tells you to chew it and you’ll have a change of scenery alright. Calls it ‘running gum.’ You’re skeptical, ask him what’s in it, and he says the blood of three monkeys, and you say, there’s no way he got three monkeys’ worth of blood into that little wad. He says the monkeys were small, plus, it’s a matter of the powder they use in production, got powers of absorption you wouldn’t believe. When you ask him what this powder is, he just says that’s something between him and God. And because you just got your week’s wages from the shoelace factory, and because Hilda’s been giving you the cold shoulder since the incident at Lucky Mark’s two weekends ago, you say, why not? You buy it from him, chew it up. It tastes industrial and acrid, and you nearly spit it out. But before you can, everything goes blank, and you wake up, four states away, standing in the shadow of a barn, the gum still packed into your cheek, wearing nothing but a towel you’ve never seen before. And you’re looking into the barrel of a rifle held by a farmer’s daughter who tells you to put down the chicken you’re holding or she’ll put you down, and she doesn’t mean she’ll knock you onto the ground, but that she’ll put you in it, six feet under. And yes, Teddy, that is how I met your grandmother, but what I mean to say is, be careful out there with that.”

“Huh,” Teddy said. “So, this stuff isn’t that stuff. This is just some gum with caffeine and taurine that you chew a little before or during your run. Or doing anything where you need a burst of energy, really.”

“Oh,” grandpa said. “Well, I did search that man out again and got some of the other kind if you want it. I keep it under my pillow. Just in case.”

“Yeah, that’s okay, grandpa,” Teddy said. “But… thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Teddy,” grandpa said. “Have a good run!”