Haterz by James Goss

Health and safety. You know.” I rolled my eyes. They rolled their eyes.
    While Brian and Suze busied themselves with the cylinder, I ran over to the vault. It was, in reality, a fairly simple wooden gymnasium horse. But I’d used it to alter the course slightly. People were supposed to round the corner into the copse, be doused with the ice hose, dodge under the mild electric fence, and then onto the vaulting horse, trying to jump from it to the rope swing over a mud pit and down.
    I’d simply moved the vaulting horse, concealing the mud pit. There were so many of these on the course that no-one would notice this one missing.
    I checked the supporters, in case they were looking. They weren’t, so I pushed the horse quickly back into its proper position, calling out to the supporters “Fresh mud!” They looked up just as I finished. “All good!” I said.
    “Looks great from here!” they enthused.
    Thumbs up all round.
    Fast Eddy approached at a ragged stagger. He already looked a mess.
    “Give him hell,” I said to Brian and Suze.
    “Woo hooo!” Brian and Suze called out to him, and turned the hose on him. The pressure was a little higher than he was expecting. He looked dazed. He probably also wasn’t expecting the fast-setting concrete. Well, I’m lying. It was mostly a liquid called QuickSet I’d got from a hardware store. Like gravy granules, it would turn a soup into a stew in seconds and make the mud pit very hard to get out of.
    Eddy staggered under the high pressure, falling against the electric fence rather than crawling under it. Brian and Suze howled with laughter, and, bless him, Fast Eddy tried to laugh back, his face gurning with the strain. It wasn’t that bad—the voltage was reasonably low. Perhaps a little higher than on all the other fences on the course, but not too bad.
    Leg spasming slightly, Eddy dragged himself up onto the vaulting horse. The QuickSet was already making his clothes stiffer than a teenage boy’s pyjamas. The extra weight was dragging him back, but he made it up onto the top of the horse, wobbling a bit. He fist pumped the air. “ King of the World! ” he roared.
    Brian and Suze clapped. Brian wolf-whistled. He was the type.
    Eddy sized up the rope and threw himself into the air. He caught it, which was brilliant. I’d concealed another electric cable inside it, with a rather stronger current running through it. He yelped and fell into the mud pit. And vanished.
    I had (and believe me, this took time) dug the pit a bit deeper than it was supposed to be. A foot deeper.
    FastEddy surfaced to the cheers of Brian and Suze. They were taking pictures. Bugger me, they were taking pictures.
    “My legs!” screamed Fast Eddy.
    “Oh, it’s cramp, probably.”
    “No it’s not,” Eddy wailed. “They’re not working! Help me!” His arms thrashed weakly about and his head slid under the surface.
     
     
    Supporters: These Are Your Rules
    DO NOT shout namby-pamby encouragement (ie “You can do it, mate!”)
    DO shout “Try harder, you Muddy Funster” or “Go ahead and drown, weakling”
    NO HELPING. NEVER ANY HELPING.
     
    A THICK, TREACLY bubble broke the surface.
    Brian and Suze, unbelievably and wonderfully, asked me to take a picture of them next to the mud pit. They positioned themselves, and I took the shot when Eddy’s head bobbed up again. I’d actually framed it quite nicely. They posted it immediately.
    “Help me! For God’s sake help me!” Eddy cried.
    Brian and Suze looked at each other, concerned for a moment.
    “Try harder...” Brian started a little self-consciously, but then found himself. “You Muddy Funster!”
    “Go ahead and drown!” bellowed Suze, a little fiercely.
    They both laughed, and checked their phones to see how many likes their selfie had.
    Eddy gave a screeching howl and tried to lift an arm out of the mud. Brian and Suze faltered in their chanting, wondering if something was wrong.
    “Something may be wrong,” I suggested.