"Race you to the Town Hall," he said.
Not one to turn down a challenge, I said "O.K. But you'll have to switch to your left leg. I only do left leg hopping."
The chap agreed that would be fair and off we hopped, slaloming around pedestrians and street furniture as and when necessary. It was a close-hopped thing, but I just managed to pull ahead at the last and took the imaginary tape with a flourish. We both sat down on a bench outside the Town Hall and caught our breath.
"Well hopped, mate," he congratulated me.
"Aw, cheers," I said. "I've been putting a lot of work into my sprint finish lately".
We chatted for a little longer and you'll never guess what. Turns out the bloke is a wereflea. This might explain his penchant for hopping. Every full moon he is powerless to stop himself taking on flea form and rampaging about the neighbourhood causing untold itchiness.
The worst part of it is, he never knows exactly when he is is going to resume human form and on a couple of occasions has suddenly found himself sitting naked on top of someone's head or sharing the overstretched underpants of a very shocked victim.
Amazing what you uncover when you scratch the surface.
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