(You can listen to this story here.)
Harold Racer looked to his left. Three other sprinters were shaking their legs and warming up. To his right, three other sprinters were doing the same. Harold stood there. Stoic. Next to him was his evil nemesis, Fasty, who looked back at him and smiled. “Good luck, Harold!”
Jeez, what a jerk.
Finally, it was time for Harold to prove himself. His right foot was on the starting block. His heart was already racing, not with fear, but with anticipation. Harold Racer loved to race, and he was a sprinter. The 100-meter-dash was his to win.
“Ready… Set…”
Instinctively, Harold primed himself for the sprint start. The starting gun went off, and there was an explosion of energy. Harold pushed off the start blocks and pumped arms and legs, muscles strained to their max, human form at its peak, every breath, every movement practiced to near perfection. And almost as soon as it started, the 100-meter dash was over in a brief 19 minutes.
Harold Racer loved to race, and he definitely was fast, but not fast enough. He came in second place. Although his time of 19.5-minutes was remarkably good, he still came in second place. And worst of all, he came in second to that arrogant jerk , Fasty McSpeedyPants.
“Nice race, Harold, you made me nervous there!” Fasty said with his big smile. Harold looked at Fasty and simply nodded. “Whatever, Fasty, I’ll win next time.” Harold knew that wasn’t true. He could never beat Fasty, no matter how hard he trained, Fastly was literally one step ahead of him.
Harold wished, and wished with all his might, that he could change that.
That evening, Harold returned to his little run-down one-room apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could afford. It held a less than comfortable twin bed, a small wilted couch and a rickety table and even ricketier chairs. He flopped down on the couch. What else could he do? He trained every chance he could; ate the best sports nutrition he could afford; and slept well. But no matter what, he couldn’t beat Fasty.
Harold’s thoughts wandered as he looked at the new, mysterious door in his apartment. Then his thoughts wandered to, ‘Why is there a new, mysterious door in my apartment?’
He walked over and tried opening it, but nothing. It was locked. It looked like all the other doors, but Harold knew it hadn’t been there before.
“What is this?”
A voice said, “This is your wish door. Harold.”
Harold jumped. “Who said that?”
The voice chuckled. “You wished to change your circumstances, yes? During the track meet at the beginning of this story? “
“Yeah? So?” asked Harold.
“So your wish is grantified!“ A large, glowing number three appeared on the door. “You have three wishes. Use them wisely.”
“How do I do that?”
“At the end of the day, walk up to the wish door, state your wish and walk through. The next morning, when you wake up, your wish will be granted. You can have only one wish per day. Wishes are non-transferable, and subject to state and federal regulations.”
Harold had an idea. “What about-”
“No. No. No! Absolutely no fucking unlimited wishes! “ The voice bellowed.
Harold shrunk. “Jeez. Okay.”
Then silence. Harold thought long and hard. What would he wish for? Fame? Fortune? Money? Gold? He was almost out of orange juice and had to run to the grocery store, should he wish for that? He really hated going to the grocery store.
That night, Harold stood in front of the wishing door and held the handle. He didn’t know whether he needed to hold the door handle, but played it safe.
He made his wish. “I wish to be the fastest sprinter on Earth!”
Harold walked through the door, and on the other side was … his apartment. The very same apartment. He looked around to see if anything was different. Nope. All the same.
He went to bed and wondered if he had lost his mind.
Harold awoke early and couldn’t go back to sleep. He wondered if the whole wishing-door thing had been a dream. Just a crazy dream. He got out of bed and stretched and looked around. Just like the night before, everything looked the same, even the door.
The door!
The door was still there! But instead of a glowing three, there was a large glowing two on it.
Harold looked in his full-length mirror to see if he had changed. Nope. He felt the same, too. If he really was the fastest sprinter on Earth, wouldn’t he feel different? Confused and dejected, Harold got ready for the day’s track meet, the semi-finals. If he had any hope of winning the finals, he had to win today. He walked out of his apartment building and immediately knew something had changed, but it wasn’t him.
As he stepped out onto the street, the morning bustle of folks going to work had changed. Everyone was still human-sized. And they still had human heads and human faces. But their human heads were attached to long turtle necks that stuck out of turtle shells. Their flipper arms and legs flopped forward as they slowly trudged their way along.
Harold was the same. But everyone else was slow, pokey turtle people!
Harold reeled and thought about what he had done. His one wish had forced all of humanity to mutate into … abominations, all so he could win at racing. He altered the course of humanity for his own selfish whims!
“Meh.” Harold shrugged and kept walking.
Not only had humanity changed, but the race schedule had changed. Today was a different 100-meter semifinals. Harold had a distressing thought. What if, just as everyone else got turned into turtles, the other sprinters got turned into fast animals like gazelles, or cheetahs, or penguins with rocket packs?
Fortunately, everyone at the starting line was human-sized, with human heads, but had big green turtle shells and flippers. Harold breathed a sigh of relief. “That was close,” he thought.
The starting gun fired and the turtle sprinters were off! Harold couldn’t help laughing as they struggled awkwardly to race down the track. Finally, they completed the 100 meter dash in around 40 minutes. Pathetic! But to Harold’s dismay, the winner was “Fasty McSpeedyPants!” Oh no! But that means if he won tomorrow’s semifinals, he would be against turtle Fasty. Harold curled a devil’s smile and said, “It’s all coming together!”
”What?” said the old turtle man sitting next to him.
Harold grumbled, ”Nothing. Say, Pops, can I see that schedule?”
The old turtle man handed Harold the schedule. ”Sure. Keep it.”
Harold looked over the schedule. Oh, no! He wasn’t listed in tomorrow’s semifinals. He rushed to the race office and talked to the turtle officials. The old turtle lady looked through the schedule and drawled. “You’re not listed for tomorrow’s semifinals.”
Harold nodded in agreement. ”That’s the problem. I have to race tomorrow.”
”But you’re not listed. You have to be listed to race, and you’re not listed. You need to be listed. To race. Listed.”
Harold sighed. ”Yes. I get that part, but… I know I turned in all my paperwork.”
The race official reached for a pen and paper. ”Well. Let me double check for you. What is your name, again?”
”My name is Harold Racer.”
The turtle official wrote his name slowly and carefully. Then, with a slow and careful eye, compared the name she wrote to the flyer schedule. “Nope. You’re not listed. I’m sorry. But I’ve done all I can.”
Dejected, Harold walked back to his apartment. If he couldn’t compete in the semifinals, what would he do? This was a massive failure!
Back at his apartment, he flopped down on his couch; the cushion sunk almost all the way to the floor. “Great. I’m done for. My one chance to win. I wish I was…” Then he saw the door. Of course! The wishing door with the number two on it!
That evening, before bed, Harold grabbed the doorknob and said, “I wish to be in the 100-meter semi-finals tomorrow,” and walked through the door. Again, he walked back into his same apartment. He checked the schedule, and his name still wasn’t listed. Maybe in the morning? The door still had the number two on it. There was nothing he could do, so he went to bed and tried to get some sleep.
The next morning, Harold burst out of bed and checked the schedule. He was in! He was in the semifinals! And the wishing door now had a glowing “one” on it. One wish left. He would have to be careful with that wish. But, no time to think about that now. He had to get ready!
At the race, all the competitors were still pokey-slow turtles. The starting gun went off and Harold, even though he could have slacked off and still easily won, put all his effort into the 100-meter race and finished in a record-breaking fourteen minutes!
The turtle competitors came in about thirty minutes later. And as each Turtle crossed the finish line, Harold slapped it on the shell and said, “Nice try, loser.”
Finally, a gloating Harold was confronted by a turtle sprinter. But not just any angry turtle sprinter, but his evil nemesis, Fasty McSpeedyPants. ”Harold, may I have a word?” Fasty asked.
Harold snarled. ”Sure, loser. What is it, loser?”
Fasty sighed. ”Well, I can’t say I appreciate how you are treating the other sprinters. Yes, you won. And completing the 100-meter dash in a mere 14 minutes is impressive. I didn’t even know if it was possible. But your competitors tried their best, and they were at an obvious disadvantage. You are tall and have long legs. We are all short and with shells and flippers. I bet if you also had a shell, you wouldn’t think yourself so great. Perhaps good sportsmanship and a dose of humility are called for?”
Typical of Fasty McSpeedyPants to be such an irrational jerk, thought Harold. He asked ”You think the only reason I won is because I don’t have a shell?”
Fasty replied, “Well, it certainly placed you at an advantage. Don’t you think so?”
”No! I don’t think! I never think! And I’ll show you. Tomorrow I’ll whoop you in the finals, and I don’t need this body to do it. You see. You just wait and see!”
Fasty smiled warmly. ”Shell or not, I wish you the best tomorrow. I consider you a competitor, but also a friend. Let us both have a good race, and we can say we did our best. “
Furious, Harold stormed off. “Of all the nerve! That Fasty will get his comeuppance!” He went back to his apartment, back to the door. ”Fasty thinks I can’t win with a shell? I’ll teach him!” Harold spent the rest of the day angrily pacing, thinking about insufferable Fasty and his cruel words.
Finally, evening came. Before bed, Harold, for the last time, put his hand on the doorknob and made his wish. ”I wish to have a shell!” He took one last look at his body in the full length mirror. His human body. Sure, he would miss it, but this race was important. He would show them, he would show all of them, especially his evil nemesis Fasty.
The next morning, Harold didn’t feel right. When he tried to roll out of bed, he fell and heard a thunk. He hit the ground on his back, and something hard struck the floor. It took a minute for the fog to clear, then he realized – his shell. Harold now had a shell!
Shell or not, he would certainly win the finals. And finally teach that no-good trash-talking Fasty McSpeedyPants a lesson!
Harold decided, given the new body and all, he should get to the track extra early to warm up and get ready. He moved towards the door to leave, maybe grab breakfast on the way.
…And he moved toward the door.
…And he moved towards the door.
Harold knew the turtle-human body would be slower, but this was ridiculous! As he crept along, he finally came up to the full-length mirror.
Oh No!
His human face and human head and human eyes on the human face, especially the eye parts, went wild! This was terrible! He did indeed have a shell. Just like he had asked for.
But where were was his arms and legs? Nothing! Not even turtle flippers. And why was there a slime trail behind him?
A Snail! Harold had been turned into a snail!
Panicked, Harold saw the wish door. It was still there! And the number one on it was fading. Maybe if he could get next to it and make a wish! He, what, not ran, but crawled to it desperately.
You know those dreams where you are trying to run, but move oh so slowly? That was snail Harold was doing.
Harold yelped. ”Oh No! On no! Wish door! I take back my last wish! I take back-“ But the wish door faded away as Harold slogged along.
He howled in anguish “NO! No! Nooooo!”