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Gaston Dilmoore's Outdoor Situation

I'm afraid this root is making me drowsy. Or is it the route? Dash it, I'm in space, so to speak of.

The route would be fine, if it weren't for this outlandish 1983 Redline BMX I've got between my knickers. Too small, isn't it? At least for me and my frame of reference.

I'm drowsy.

It's the root.

It's the route.

Nunzig has been feeding me this root. Tells me it's for my nerves. He said so like such:

"You take this root, it's good for my nerves."

Did he say his own nerves?

"Nunzig old boy?" I asked him, pedaling like a minx at the fiendish Redline, "why again am I taking this root?"

He continued to pedal his Huffy.

"It's on the map."

"There are roots on the map?"

"Yes, sir. The route runs the base of the mountain."

"Well, then, that's quite a root," I reasoned, pedaling all the while. "Do you suppose I can take the whole thing?"

"We'll take it together," he said to me.

You see?

"Are you taking the root as well?" I asked him.

"How could I not?" he replied. "I'm just next to you here."

"Actually old bean, you're a bit to the lower portion, and just a bit Penelope shaped."

"Did you say Penelope shaped?"

I had to consider that one for a bit.

"I suppose I did, old chap," I shouted. "Damned am I drowsy, it must be this root."

I only had seven little nips left of the root, but I ate some anyway. Then, the rattle of our chains filled the brisk air like the clattering of typewriters at the London Times in 1962. I knew we had no choice but to keep on that root.

"Stay on the route," called Nunzig.

"Three more bites," I said.

"Pardon?"

"The root."

"Oh yes," he laughed. "For my...your nerves."

"Did you say your nerves?"

"Yes, sir. Your nerves."

There was a downhill, and I lifted my boots from the pedals. It lasted three days.

More root?

I'm drowsy.

"Sir, I can assure you that hill did not last three days."

"Well, what time do you make it?"

"Half six."

"Have you seen my trousers?"

"Several times."

By now, the backers were attempting to contact us through the operation of a hot air balloon, which I could see just beyond the weeds. I knew as well as anyone that the backers above all else wanted me especially to stay on the root.

"We'll make it sir," assured Nunzig. "As long as you stay on the root."

Good fun, this biking. Sustainable, too.

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