John and Cary

John and Cary raced to the center, sending a gust of wind through the audience, to much applause and ooh's and aah's. They stayed neck and neck like that, the entire race, everything coming to a head. Huge screeching sound effects. Crowd cheered for hours. The referees looked at the snapshot every possible angle, to see if someone, one of them, must have at least won by a nose. No such luck. It was a complete tie.

"Boy, that was some race, huh?", Cary, talking off his helmet.

"You can say that again, Cary." John and Cary, hopping out of their cars in the fuel station, ready to walk out those doors and meet their legions of adoring fans.

"But John", Cary grabbed him by the shoulder. They stopped.

"It always goes like this. Don't you ever think...shouldn't there be some conclusion? I mean, we cant keep going around in circles forever like this."

John slapped Cary on the respective shoulder and pulled his aviators off, stuffing them in his chest pocket. He smiled.

"You'd be surprised." His brown jacket and leather pants stretching and squeaking with every step into that light and the cacophony of cheers.