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Contender for the Gold
by Harriett Fjaagesund

"There is a fly in my mashed potatoes!" Fritz shouted.

The waiter hurried over. "My apologies! Oh, that's not just any common fly, sir, that's Mr. Bigguns. He's in training for the 2010 Canada Winter Olympics."

"Is this an example of a joke you people like to play on innocent tourists?"

"Certainly not! We take our sports very seriously. Mr. Bigguns is a superb athlete, a real contender for the gold medal."

"Gold medal in what?" Fritz asked.

"Downhill skiing."

"And those little orange things on his feets, what are those? They look like little carrot sticks."


"I am finding this very hard to believe. It is too fantastic to think that a little fly would be able to ski."

"Mr. Bigguns actually started his athletic career as a jockey. He rode many champions to victory all over the world, but he eventually had to give it up."

"Yah, I understand. The little fellow kept falling off the horse."

"Not at all, sir. Mr. Bigguns is an expert horseman. He kept getting distracted by all the horse manure flying around. Several of his mounts were disqualified for crossing the finish line without a rider in the saddle."

Fritz eyed the fly swooshing across his plate. "So why is he skiing in my mashed potatoes? You have many tall mountains."

"The plane Mr. Bigguns flew in on lost his luggage, which included his specially designed thermal underwear and ski suit. So he's been forced to practice in a warm environment until his luggage is located. Can I get you something else, sir? It's on the house. Perhaps a steaming bowl of chili? Today's cream of mushroom soup is very good. We also have a wide selection of sandwiches and burgers."

"No, I think I will try the dessert. A big bowl of lemon Jell-O would be very nice."

"Excellent choice, sir, but I'll have to check with the kitchen and see if the Northern Bedbugs have finished their skating lesson. They're involved in a revenge match with the 747 Mosquitoes. Both sides are out for blood."