In the lobby the elevator button was pressed and with a indicative 'DING!' the race began.
The waiting passengers who stood there dressed in all manners of business attire began to make their calls. "I've got old shakey", "Persistent Hummer,for me!", but the most were for the favourite, "Fastest
Fart Closet, has it this time!'
As the choices were being made, the doorman nearby with his eyes fixed on the floor indicators above, hustled through his commentary. "Here it is, another fine morning at the races, and they're off". We've got Old Shakey on the tenth, with Persistent Hummer and Fart Closet close by on eleven"
"Persistent Hummer jumps ahead to ninth with Fart Closet close behind... and is passed, as Fart Closet continues down to seventh". The lobby cheers.
Oh, but wait here he comes, hurtling down the shaft is Old Shakey. Looks like he's coming home... but stops on floor three". Someone lets out an excited squeal, over the sighing crowd.
"Now Fart Closet is on the move, down to six, fith, fourth and is held at fourth. Persistent Hummer is still on ninth, it looks like someone might be holding the door!" It looks like this race is over for Hummer.
"This looks like the final stretch of the shaft for Old Shakey and Fart Closet, Fart Closet descends first he's at three, two and stops. Shakey's at two now, this is going to be close... too close to call... and it looks like Fastest Fart Closet has this one! He's won it, Fastest Fart Closet has won it!
When the elevator doors open, the riders are met with the cheers and applaus of the waiting crowd and are hoisted out and onto shoulders. Shakey's supports disappointedly file past its jockies onto the lift, while Persistent Hummer's fans stare in shame as it stops descending and begins to service higher floors.