Cylindrical With Spikes

 Stage nine. Pau to Laruns.

The teams labour up a difficult mountain.

It's misty. 

No, it's not misty.

It's rain.

The lucky ones pull on their rain jackets, ready for the descent.

Why didn't we think to bring rain coats? grumbles Vello.

Sod's law, says David.

Marc Hirschi cruises by without effort, nibbling on a Power Bar.

Vello draws level with Sweezus.

Any snacks in that bulging pouch? asks Vello.

Three gels, says Sweezus.

It looks bigger, says Vello.

Yeah well that's a surprise for tomorrow, says Sweezus.

The picnic? says David. Well done!

What is it? asks Vello.

It won't be a surprise if I tell you, says Sweezus.

Richie Porte trundles by, overhearing.

We knew we were having a girl, says Richie. It's no less amazing.

Well this is a cake, says Sweezus.

Aha! says Vello. What sort of cake?

No way am I telling, says Sweezus.

I hope it's not getting wet, says David.

Reckon it is, says Richie, speeding up to join the main bunch.

The rest of the stage is a nightmare for Sweezus.

They know about the cake.

What if it gets ruined?

It was a special cake he bought in Loudevielle yesterday.

A spit cake.

It won't do too well in the rain.

At the end of the day he calls Arthur.

Hey, says Arthur. We've counted one Black Glossy.

Just one? says Sweezus.

So far, says Arthur. It was dead, so we probably shouldn't have. What's up?

I bought this spit cake, says Sweezus. And it looked brilliant in the shop. Cylindrical, with spikes. But I had to carry it with me in the rain this arvo and the spikes collapsed and it looks like a freakin' Swiss roll with no jam in it.

Calm down, says Arthur. Use a hair drier.

You just saved my life, bro, says Sweezus.

Who won today? asks Arthur.

Pogacar, says Sweezus. He and Roglic pipped Hirschi in the last 2k, after Hirschi was in front for the previous ninety.

That's racing, says Arthur.

Yeah, says Sweezus.