A cunning plan

Man and woman jogging

Thirty years ago on the advice of my doctor I took up jogging. Even on a good day, my running style and performance could accurately be described as rubbish. So bad in fact, that I couldn't get anyone to partner me. It was then, like Baldrick in Blackadder, that I devised a cunning plan.
My plan was to tell potential running partners exciting stories. These would be in episodes with each one ending in a situation where the hero/heroine (my new running companion) would be left in a perilous situation, the solution of which would be revealed at the start of the following day's run.
A week later my innovative plan was put into operation when I slowly overhauled two female joggers. These turned out to be employees from the local hospital.
The reason for their slow running pace was given as the recent birth of a first child by one of the joggers.
Because the centre I'd established some years before was attached to the same hospital as the two joggers, we had sufficient in common for my new companions to be relaxed in my company. We agreed to meet up the next day to continue our run.
At the start of the following day's run I introduced my new friends to the first of my stories.
As the days passed, and as I got to know them better, I incrementally built up their roles in the stories, always ensuring that their survival depended on an appearance the following day.
On learning that the husband of one of my companions was a very heavy sleeper and that they were in the process of restoring an elderly villa in a somewhat remote area, I concluded that day's story with her attempting to wake her husband having heard soft footsteps in the early hours of the morning. His response in the story was: "It's your imagination, go back to sleep." The intruder's footsteps got ever closer as I ended the run with a cheery: "I'll see you both tomorrow - same time?"
I noticed that the clock on my bedside table read 2.30 the following morning when I responded to the telephone's incessant ring. I recognised the voice at the other end as one of my running companions.
"Are you awake" she asked. "Good, because your bloody story has stopped me from sleeping. I have to know - what happens? If you don't tell me I shan't be able sleep and I've got work tomorrow."
Collecting my thoughts I spent the next 10 minutes completing the story to her satisfaction. My wife, by this time wide awake, asked: "What was that all about?"
"Some silly sod with an overactive imagination."
"Who was that?"
"Me."