it's the summer olympics and time for michael phelps to strut his stuff. no, not in swimming, but in some sport where you take a kayak and paddle down what's essentially a long, flat, zig-zagging slip'n'slide with no water. it's a tough sport but phelps is up for it. uses a lot of arm muscle. the track is just sort of in an alley in some big city. he gets some good speed up but by the time he gets to the end it's clear he won't be getting any medals. eighth place. darn! but he's okay with it, he was just curious to see how he'd do. i'm apparently his friend or something and we start packing the kayak into a van. i guess we're ready to leave. there's a bratty high school kid there with us, too. he has a hypodermic needle full of a glowing orange liquid that he's about to inject into his arm. "what are you doing, kid?" "oh it's just the common cold, i really don't want to go to school." michael phelps shakes his head in disapproval.
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