He was the best at what he did. He had been doing it for years. There was no way I could compete with him. The skill level he possessed was well beyond mine, and he bested me at every competition. I worked so hard for so many years, and was once looked upon as the next golden boy. This all changed when he entered the picture. He seemed to come out of nowhere and wowed everyone with his intricate movements and crowd pleasing bravado. This was supposed to be my time; I couldn’t playing second fiddle to this guy.

The world of male figure skating carries a fine line between artistry and athleticism. I had worked hard for years making sure each line was clean and precise. I had worked my way up like all the great ones need to. Then one competition a new talent emerged. He won over the judges with jump after jump, leaving all my hard work in the dust. He seemed to have come out of nowhere, and despite all my hard work I could not surpass his jumping skill. It should have taken more than that, all he did were big jumps; I glided across the ice like a well trained dancer, but the judges never appreciated that.

It was an Olympic year and I had come in second to this guy for the past three years. I couldn’t understand it. I knew I was better. When we both made the team I knew I practiced harder and harder hoping that at the big show I would finally be appreciated. After all this to add insult to injury we were XXXX to room together.

On the eve of the competition he asked me a question, and in my haste I answered with the only way I thought I could beat him. He asked how I seemed to tackle artistry so well. It was his weak point on the ice and he was actually asking for my advice. In my jealous haste I told him it was simple if he allowed me to show

him. He agreed. I produced rope and he looked at me with surprise. I told him to put his hands behind his back and he obliged. I bound his wrists tight as he stared at me with wondering eyes. I worked my way down to his ankles and wrapped the rope tight around his talented ankles as he flinched with knot tied. I was finished.

“Coach does this to me every practice”, I explained. “He says struggling is like dancing, it will help loosen up muscles you didn’t know you had”, I said. “Really this is kind of weird, but if you say so”, he said. “Is a gag really necessary”, he asked? “Coach says it helps with breathing”, I explained. “Go for it”, he said excitedly. I plastered a strip of duct tape across his mouth. What was I thinking? I couldn’t keep him like this forever. At least if struggled enough he would be sore the next day for the competition.

“Now struggle as if your life depended on it”, I explained. “Struggle as if you’ve been XXXX”, I said. He nodded and began. I watched as he squirmed and thrashed. He mad inaudible noises from behind his taped mouth. This was the cruelest joke i had ever done to someone, but I wanted the gold so bad I could taste it. I figured his limbs would be so sore the next day it would inhibit him.

He fell to the floor and kicked and thrashed hard. He was getting a work out harder than he ever did in the gym. “Now I’m going to dinner, keep going and ill let you out when I get back”, I said. The idiot nodded in agreement and continued his struggle on the floor. When I returned to the room he had broken free and was XXXXping on his bed. I shot his an amusing grin and slept better than I had in along time.

The next day was the competition and I led the field with only him left to skate. He looked tired and sore. He stepped onto the ice and gave the performance of his life. He glided like a well trained dancer and hit all his big jumps. In the end I stood next to him with

a silver medal around my neck while he relished his gold. He whispered to me softly, “If you ever want to practice together again just give me a call, thanks for all your help”, he said sincerely. I could have killed myself right then and there.

The End

The Competition played by Matt

Photography by Caitiff

Date of Production:12/05/2009