"She's just sitting there doing nothing, look at her."
"Yeah, she's been like that for ages. I'm worried, I really am."
"We need to do something. Throw something at her, make her at least breathe a bit deeper."
"Or that. She shuffles like Pingu now, have you noticed?"
"Hahaha yeah, and she does that thing you know-"
"That *demonstrates* thing yeah hahaha."
"*sigh* What a numpty."
*louise stands up, walks to the window, stares out, goes at sits back down to continue scrolling*
"I thought we had progress there."
"I've had enough. Let's make something big happen, like, like PUTTING HER ON TELE!"
"But she's already done that, and coped disappointingly well with it. Formed actual coherent sentences, did some funnies. I even made Jon Snow ask her if she KNITS, and she didn't bat an eyelid."
"True. We need to put her on tele but make her uncomfortable or embarrassed."
"She's tweets about her boobs, I hardly think that would faze her."
"What does she hate doing?"
"Moving, we've established that."
"Let's make her run."
"But she can't-"
"It's a non starte-"
"She'll HURT HERSE-"
"Running with fire."
"Look you can't ju-...wait, what?"
"Let's make her run with fire."
"...you are ridiculous. I thought you making her put orange peel up her nose was too far, but THIS?"
"Look, she was only meant to stick it up there a BIT, so it DANGLED, not stick it up so far she nearly DIED."
"You really think we should do this? HOW? Running with fire's not a nor-"
*chariots of fire plays*
"Oh. Oh I see. I SEE. The Olympics! We should make her a TORCHBEARER! You, my friend, are a genius. This is perfect."
"She'll look a mentalist. Remember the bin incident?"
"RAN INTO IT! Still got the scar. "
"Has her toenail grown back from her last running attempt?"
"Idiot. She knew those converses were too small for her."
"So, are we gonna do this then? Make her a torchbearer? Run in front of the nation, in a uniform, grasping a torch alight with THE flame, and, have I mentioned, IN FRONT OF THE NATION?!?!"
*louise turns around quizzically. "Muuuum." "Yeah?" "Did you say something?" "No, but if you want to hoov-" turns up music.*
"Shhuusshhh, we need to keep quiet about this. SHE needs to keep quiet about this....for 10 months."
"TEN? She could have a baby in that time."
"Yeah well I'm not mentioning that palava again, she actually liked that suggestion."
"Send the email then. Go on. Make them choose her. Louise Jones, part of a historical incredible event. Louise Jones. *sobs* Louise Jones THIS IS LOUISE JONES SHE'LL BE A RIGHT TIT NO STO-"
"...you've sent it?"
*louise leans forward towards her laptop. she gasps, mumbling "Shitting hell." before running downstairs screaming "MUUUUM! THEY WANT ME TO RUN WITH THE BLOODY TORCH NEXT YEAR! THEY WANT ME TO...hold on...they want me to RUN..."*
"Let the games begin."
I'm running on Friday 6th July, around 6pm, in Brentwood, and I want loads of you there! This is a pretty big deal so the streets lined with you lot would be ace. I, evidently, cannot run, so need the moral support and dignity put-back-togetherers. Also, if any media type people want to cover me/it then email me: email@example.com. (that's a technicality of this i've been asked to say, i'm not being arrogant, promise)
One foot in front of the other, how hard can it be?