This is a Sunday Photofictioner submission for 1st May 2016. I’ve not written much of late but I’m trying to get back into it. This one combines a couple of my preferred tropes for which I make no apologies. Thanks to Al for the photo.
With his keen intellect, Oxbridge double first and that delicious, cadenced baritone, Chuck ought to have had it made in broadcasting. Trouble was, with his pudgy frame and doughy features, no television company would let him anywhere near the serious issues. He lacked gravitas, they said, though he knew what they meant. His friends suggested he try for the radio but Chuck insisted it was a dying medium, said he might as well blog on the internet to an audience of tens. They knew not to push it after that.
Eventually, he got a job presenting sports. Not interesting sports, of course, not the sorts that people want to watch. He didn’t have the gravitas for that. Instead, he found himself fronting goat juggling and squid racing to insomniacs and shiftworkers.
Still, he’s got a plan. They’ve rostered him to present the biofuel Rallycross heats. It’s not the sort of event to attract much interest, but he’s paid the chief mechanic to tamper with favourite’s brakes. Sure, no one’s interested now, but they’ll start paying attention when the driver takes the bend too fast and ploughs, full speed, into the bleachers.
In the end, gravitas will only get you so far. It’s just another word for presence, after all, and Chuck’s seen to it he’ll be there when it counts.