This winter to get a supplemental income (aside from this cash-factory) I decided to be a Girl’s Winter Track Coach. Of course, Middle School Girls Track teams have to be talked to a certain way. You can’t talk to them like regular people. You can’t directly threaten them or make comments about their physical appearance. My job is to motivate the young ladies; I keep my comments to myself. Here’s a look at how it usually goes down when I cheer on our best mile runner (eight indoor laps).
One of the Ladies I Coach
Said: All right Stacy! Look alive out there! Good start! Really good start! Lookin’ Good!
Thought: Looking very good, Stacy. What a fine piece of ass. Sweet Lord I’m glad this girl doesn’t own a sports bra.
Said: OK Stacy, Keep it up! Drop those arms! Keep your head down! Focus on you.
Thought: Believe me Stacy you are keeping it up. Meow.
Said: OK! Alright! Here we go. Keep your focus. Arms down. Let’s see it.
Thought: Lap three nice. Oh, three. I would love to have a threesome with Stacy and…mhm…let’s go with Ashley. No, no. Michelle. Yes, Michelle and Stacy. Shit, I forgot to start my watch for this.
Said: C’mon Stacy, I’ve seen you do it in practice. Pedal to the metal! Let’s go! (Clapping loudly) Let’s go!
Thought: This girl really loses her appeal when she starts to fucking suck. This is the fucking eighth week in the season. At her practice pace she would be in fucking second place right now. What a waste.
Said: Alright, look – just get ahead of the girl from East! Make it happen! Pick up the pace! Drop those arms!
Thought: Change in threesome fantasy, Michelle with that girl from East. That would really stick it to Charlie, if I nailed one of his girls. Ha, that’d stick it to Charlie. That’d be rich.
Said: Stacy, can you drop your arms a bit? And extend your stride. Run faster, run fu-mmmm faster! Like a bunny, Stacy. Quick like a bunny! You have one job right now. Run Stacy!
Thought: Fuck. This girl had one fucking job and that was not to fucking suck today. If we don’t place in this meet I am going to lose my fucking job. There is no room in any budget for some shit-fuck Girl’s Winter Track team. I wish this bitch could get her act together.
Said: Alright Stacy, you have gotta MOVE! C’mon! Arms down! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! YOU WHORE!
Thought: Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. I just yelled whore at an 8th grade girl. Look around. Look around. Did anyone hear. Shit. Nancy heard me. No one likes you Nancy, get a grip. There’s a reason you are the only one who race walks. OK. Just cover your tracks. Think of something that rhymes with whore.
Said: YOU’LL SCORE! YOU’LL SCORE!
Said: Stacy if you don’t place. (Breathes deeply) If you don’t place…I will…DROP YOUR ARMS STACY. DROP YOUR FUCKING ARMS YOU HOMELY CUNT!
Thought: OK. Everyone heard that one. Not even a question. I really let that one go. I just screamed homely cunt. Maybe 8th graders don’t know what cunt means. I’ll bank on that. Fuck.
Said: LET’S GO WILDCATS, LET’S GO. BUM BUM BUM. COME ON EVERYBODY! LET’S GO WILDCATS, LET’S GO!
Thought: All right, they all know what cunt means. Fuck. New plan. I need a new plan. Oh holy shit, Stacy’s on a breakaway!!
Said: LOOK EVERYONE STACY’S ON A BREAKWAY!
Thought: Oh sweet Jesus thank you. The team is distracted again AND I’m going to keep my job. Holy cow, look at those boobs go. Thank you puberty.