Good afternoon, ladies and gents. This is Ms. Belle of the Mont, reporting live from Carmel, home of the Wonder- Lympics, the five-minute race that takes running to a whole new level. Each entrant in this race has set his own unique goal, to meet or to miss in exactly five minutes. The stakes are high. Let's meet our contestants, shall we?
First but humblest is Tongue-tied Moses of the Forty Lap Sinai Wilderness Jaunt, a long distant endurance test not for the faint of heart. He claims he's in this race to "save the shepherd girls," though rumor has it he's on the lam.
Second up is Samson Long Hair, one-time judge of Israel running on super strength from above. His motive? To avenge the murder of his "beloved heifer" (aka wife) by catching - count 'em - three hundred foxes, tying lit torches to their tails and setting them loose in the Philistines' harvest-ripe grain. All we ask, Mister Pyromaniac, is that you not burn down this stadium. Please.
Speaking of fire, look who just breezed in out of nowhere, fresh from slaughtering the Baal Team in an extremely grueling no-contest fencing match! It's Elijah the Dish Bite, co-instigator with God of the famous famine that brought Israel to its knees. Now he's in a race to outrun Ahab's war horses on a twenty-five mile trek from here to Jezreel. Can he do it? Time will tell.
And now, ladies and gents, Abe's stopwatch is winding down. Forty-five righteous in Sodom... now thirty... now ten. On your mark... Get set... And they're off!
Elijah takes the lead, burning up the track with prophetic zeal, while that whirlwind Samson lights torches at a dizzying speed. Our missile meter has recorded two... four... six... thirty foxes caught paired, tied, and flung - all in the same number of seconds. As for Moses, he has mysteriously disappeared - as usual... Oh, there's the fearless caboose, running barefoot as he brings up the rear. Seems he left his flip flops by some bush while scoping out the Promised Land...
With two minutes gone, Elijah holds a clear lead. Soaring like an eagle, he's nearly halfway to the city gate. As for Samson, what a magnet! Foxes are flocking to him like lions to honey. He's throwing them like hot cakes, and nailing each target too. Philistines from as far away as Timbuktu are calling to report that "The sky's falling," "It's raining flying squirrels," and "The world is at an end!"
And the race goes on. With only two minutes left, Elijah has a clear advantage. And yet...
Whoa! Hold your horses if there isn't another entry! His name: Paul Untimely Born - an understatement if I ever heard one. I mean, that dude is late with a capital L! He has a lot of lost time to make up... And he's doing it! Cleared two hundred feet in four seconds. They say he's got the legs of an ostrich and acts just as crazy, and they're right. Doing pushups on the track of all things! Pummeling his chest and yelling - what? 'Submit!' Now he's right back up... and with more Godspeed than all of them combined. He's sure to...
Oh no! There's been an accident... Seems Moses, weary of raising arms against Amalekites, has dropped his rod on a rock. It's turned into a serpent and everyone's running from it. Except for Paul... who's just been bitten. All the runners have now stopped, awaiting the tragic collapse of their fellow competitor.
Any second now. Ten, nine, eight... Folks, this is unbelievable! But I do believe. Paul, who has shaken off the snake, seems to feel no ill effects. Meanwhile his fellow hall-of-faith-ers are staring at him, dumbstruck at the fearless banner he unfurls: Preach the gospel, instant in season and out of season. Christ is returning any minute. So make straight paths for your feet and run like a winner!
With mere seconds left in the race, his message has energized them all. And now the phone lines are ringing off the hook. Philistines, coughing up smoke caused by all those little foxes, are crying out, "What must we do to be saved?"
Meanwhile Abe's stopwatch continues to tick. Who will join the winning team? And who will win the race? The choice is up to us, the viewers.
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