8thdayfiction

…and on the 8th day, micro fiction was published on some dude's blog.

It Was Go Time

Bobby offered up another serve, hitting the ball as hard as he could and putting the most spin on it he could muster.

Sasha leapt across the table to meet the ball and fired off a return shot before it even bounced on her side, leaving Bobby scrambling to return her volley, stumbling as he lunged after it.

He got back on his feet and stared across the net. Sasha just sat there stone-faced, then stuck her tongue out at him.

Bobby threw his paddle down in frustration and walked away, trying to collect his thoughts.

He didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, owning a ping pong-playing toad was a big deal. He knew the two of them should have already been making the rounds of the talk shows, enjoying their fifteen minutes of fame.

But on the other hand, ping pong was always kind of his thing. He enjoyed bragging about how good he was at it, so getting destroyed by a toad was not ideal. Especially not if it happened on national television.

He was starting to wish he had never taught Sasha the game in the first place. But who would have known, right? Sure, Sasha’s parents had both been Champion toad ping pong players, but Bobby’s dad was a chemical engineer, yet Bobby still did math counting on his fingers, so genetics didn’t necessarily mean anything. Besides, Sasha’s parents were champions at playing against other toads. A toad beating humans was unheard of until Sasha came along.

But Bobby had created this monster, and there was no uncreating it now. He chugged a Red Bull and marched back to the table.

Bobby wasn’t going to take on Sasha on TV until he upped his game enough to make it a contest.

The taurine was coursing through his veins now. It was go time.

*****

This story brought to you by RED BULL. RED BULL: The Official Energy Drink Of Humans Playing Ping Pong Against Toads Everywhere

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