Here's your trophy for Best Cowardly Flight, you yellow son of a bitch.
You deserve it, make no mistake. Never in history has such a profound act of spineless sprinting been observed.
When all others held their ground and stood firm against the rising tide of opposition, you spared not an instant before turning tail and running as fast as you could away from even the slightest bit of resistance.
Hold the trophy in your hands, feel its weight. You probably don't want to hold onto it for too long. It might slow you down if the most minuscule shadow of a possibility of any bad thing happening anywhere near you makes it necessary to beat your shitbag feet to the nearest diaper store so you don't have to shit your pants again.