"I'd like to have a race right now."
I proposed a running competition. All five of them happily wagged their tails.
One of them in particular had a bright red face. She was probably imagining some kind of pee or semen splashing contest. As expected, I really do need to let this 30-year-old widow vent her sexual frustration through exercise.
"Shall we do short-distance, middle-distance, and long-distance runs?"
I dragged my foot across the ground to draw a starting line. Then I walked roughly fifty meters by eye and drew another line. I had originally planned for the first line to be the start and the second the goal, but since everyone followed me, I decided to make this the starting line instead.
"When I say 'Ready… set… go!', run to the line I drew earlier. Got it?"
Everyone nodded. Since one particular person seemed anxious, I moved in front of Iferaski and double-checked.
"Okay? When I say 'Ready… set… go!'— Wait! No! Stop!"
