Page 19 - Fables volume 3
P. 19

Delayed Results


          Now there was trouble. The race had ended in a dead heat, rare in
        a  track  event  with  only  two  runners.  Trainers,  supporters  and
        bystanders  milled  around  the  finish  line,  loudly  contesting  the
        outcome.  The  competitors,  apparently  exhausted,  had  collapsed
        beyond the fray, no longer the center of attention.
          The officials sat anxiously at their table, studying the photo finish
        images and awaiting further reports.
          “Anything, in fact,” hooted Owlish McFletcher, to his fellow judge,
        Cappy  Kangaroo.  “And  it  better  be  quick.  Those  ravening  wolves
        and howling hyenas out there will have us for lunch if we can’t come
        up with a clear winner. Nobody wants to face the facts.”
          The  third  official,  Fancylegs  Froggle,  nodded  her  warty  head.
        “What  happens  to  all  the  jack  those  punters  put  down  on  their
        favorite?”
          “That’s between them and their bookies.” Cappy had been in the
        ring. “I’d want my vigorish, regardless, if I were holding a purse. And
        those guys have a lot of hired teeth and claws to back up that claim.
        We’ll get the complaints, and fast, no matter whom we declare the
        winner. I hope our investigators get something we can use.”
          McFletcher consulted the rulebook. “The first option in this case is
        supposed to be a rematch. We couldn’t possibly get that done today:
        it’s late afternoon and the race time was 7:18:23.7. Give everyone a
        chance to cool down, and rerun it tomorrow: maybe that would fly,”
        he ended, less than optimistically.
          “What’s the second?” croaked Fancylegs.
          “Says here that we toss a coin.”
          The  marsupial  was  hopping  mad.  “That’s  crazy:  do  we  have  to
        send away for an honest coin from the mint? The public just thinks
        we’re window dressing, has no idea of our probity. If I had thought
        this could happen, I would have stayed home.”
          As  they  heard  the  crowd’s  collective  sonic  output  change  from
        outraged screaming to ominous muttering, a ferret broke through the
        underbrush behind them. It was panting.
          “What  is  it,  Gnasher?”  Fancylegs  darted  her  tongue  in  and  out
        nervously. “Catch your breath later!”


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