“Still hard to believe Spam Buren was even capable of winning,” said one of the people who owed Dom money as she handed the ten dollars over. Dom shrugged.
“Must be beginner’s luck,” he said.
“Oh, I’m willing to make the same bet again next year,” she said. “No way can Spam Buren win two in a row.”
Dom watched her wander off to buy a beer float, still reliving his win and the subsequent celebration he’d had with Kiko. A pig crossing a finish line probably wasn’t all that interesting of a thing, considering how slow the creatures were. Even Spam Buren had taken ages to wind through the track, and it had almost been close at one point when John Baconan took the lead, but spirits had been high and tense considering this was altogether new territory for the residents of Mount Angus. And of
