What Cats Have

 At the finish of stage seventeen on the Col de la Loze.

Miguel Angel 'Superman' Lopez has won it.

He gets off his bike in slo-mo.

And here comes Primoz Roglic. Ditto. And Tedj Pogaçar. 

Then someone else, then Richie. 

Bravo.

Vello, David and Sweezus cross the finish line together, in a middling position.

It wasn't exactly the plan.

They sit on the ground, next to their bikes. Exhausted.

David: At least we finished.

Vello: No thanks to those fools of spectators, crowding in and hooting and not wearing masks.

Sweezus : Blu-uhh! 

Vello: Serves you right, Sweezus. David warned you about the Chartreuse.

Sweezus: Yeah, well. Sorry.

Richie wanders over.

Richie: You guys did okay. Today was a hard one.

David: You did well too. Now you'll be fourth in the General Classification.

Richie: Yeah, thanks. Gotta make it worth not being there for the baby.

Vello: Very philosophical

David: It is.

Vello: I'd have done the same.

Sweezus: Don't know if I would.

Vello: You wouldn't. Any excuse to get out of coming.

Sweezus: That's not fair. I had excuses. But I came.

David: Don't provoke him.

Richie: Yeah. Hey what did you guys think of my poem?

Vello: It's more a series of incidents.

Richie: It's meant to be introspective.

David: Yes, be fair, Vello. What about the cats?

Vello: Nine is a number for cats. How is that introspective?

Richie: Nine lives. That's what cats have. So nine isn't unlucky.

Vello: You haven't thought that through.

Sweezus: Ha ha! Yeah, Richie. After nine, then what? Dead moggie.

Richie: You guys! I'm here aren't I? Well, I'm heading off for a massage.

He goes off to get one.

Team Philosophe remain slumped at the side of the road, against a barrier.

Then they too get up to go.

No chance of a massage.

The Col de la Loze gradually empties of people. 

Again the quiet majesty of rocks.

Even so, it thinks to itself.

Glad that's over.