Millionaire
Frank came to knee deep in water. His elbows rested upon mossy submerged stones. A knot on the side of his head thrummed with the beating of his heart. He spit out a mixture of mud, blood and sand, relishing the awful taste, because it meant he was alive.
Jimmy lay on a large granite slab several feet away, his hairy stomach protruding through his ripped t-shirt, the Bitch-Be-Quick Stick still clutched in a bloody hand. As Frank watched, Jimmy opened one eye and peered around. He shifted and his weight carried him off the rock and into the water.
It took two tries before he was able to sit without slipping on the mossy surface.
"That was in-fuckin'-credible, man," Jimmy whispered. "Like a fuckin' Disney World water ride, surfin ' along on waves of Budweiser foam."
Frank plopped down next to him. He rubbed his head and checked his hands for blood. He had been close enough to dying that he had stared Death in the eyes, laughed in his face, jumped down his throat, and been shot out his ass with supersonic force.
"That's one way of putting it, I suppose! I'd call it a near death experience myself!"
Jimmy managed to lift his head up slightly and stare at the creek and the way it roared by like a watery freight train, wind booming his mullet around his ears. Jimmy let his head sag as if he too knew how capricious the luck had been.
"Where's Lukas?" he asked.
"Fuck...the...Widow!" Lukas shouted from behind them.
Frank had to laugh when he saw that Lukas had collected about a dozen full cans of Budweiser from the wreckage of the boat and was busy looking for more in the bubbly foam of the still water eddies.
It was twenty minutes later, and a good hundred yards away from the angry noise of the Widow, where they finally sat, greedily wolfing down some beer. Their burps floated in the cool night air like carbonated sighs. They sat upon the forest floor as they drank, leaning back against a bed of ferns.
Frank took a long draw from his beer and grinned. "I can't believe you actually saved the beer, man. You risked your life for fucking beer. That's actually disturbing."
His fear had been replaced by friendship. He found it funny how his lifelong friends could inspire and chase away the demons. The warmth he felt, right here, right now, could never be duplicated.
Lukas laughed at the fates and ran his hands through his hair. "Some things is worth riskin ' a life for, my man, and Budweiser is one of them."
Jimmy tapped the Bitch-Be-Quick Stick into the ground. "Ain't that the truth." He clicked his can to Jimmy's like a champagne toast before taking a long swig.
Frank sighed. "I guess I should admit I ain't had this much fun since we was in high school."
Jimmy giggled and shook his head.
"What's so funny?" Frank asked.
" Nothin ', man. You sound like one of us after some beers. You just used the word ain't in a sentence. That's like three times or somethin '. Tells me you don't use that word much in the big city."
Frank nodded.
"I feel like myself again. I don't know if it's the river, the beer, or you two redneck bastards." He grinned. "God, what have I become?"
"You grew up is all, Frank," Lukas said. "Me and Jimmy, we're still like fuckin' kids. We drink and party like it's still 1982, man. We still have the same jobs down at the mill. We still drive the same fuckin' vehicle. Fuck man, I still wear the same Black Sabbath shirt when the mood strikes."
"But you're alive, Lukas," Frank said. "You're living your life. Sure I have more money and I have a nice place...but...but sometimes I don't even feel alive . I've laughed so much since you guys picked me up, my fucking stomach hurts. When I'm home, I don't laugh at all. I just go through the everyday routine. There are days when I feel dead inside. You guys may not have lots of money, but you live life as it's supposed to be lived. I guess you have no idea how good that is unless you live like I do."
"Maybe you should move back here," Jimmy said. "Hang
Frank came to knee deep in water. His elbows rested upon mossy submerged stones. A knot on the side of his head thrummed with the beating of his heart. He spit out a mixture of mud, blood and sand, relishing the awful taste, because it meant he was alive.
Jimmy lay on a large granite slab several feet away, his hairy stomach protruding through his ripped t-shirt, the Bitch-Be-Quick Stick still clutched in a bloody hand. As Frank watched, Jimmy opened one eye and peered around. He shifted and his weight carried him off the rock and into the water.
It took two tries before he was able to sit without slipping on the mossy surface.
"That was in-fuckin'-credible, man," Jimmy whispered. "Like a fuckin' Disney World water ride, surfin ' along on waves of Budweiser foam."
Frank plopped down next to him. He rubbed his head and checked his hands for blood. He had been close enough to dying that he had stared Death in the eyes, laughed in his face, jumped down his throat, and been shot out his ass with supersonic force.
"That's one way of putting it, I suppose! I'd call it a near death experience myself!"
Jimmy managed to lift his head up slightly and stare at the creek and the way it roared by like a watery freight train, wind booming his mullet around his ears. Jimmy let his head sag as if he too knew how capricious the luck had been.
"Where's Lukas?" he asked.
"Fuck...the...Widow!" Lukas shouted from behind them.
Frank had to laugh when he saw that Lukas had collected about a dozen full cans of Budweiser from the wreckage of the boat and was busy looking for more in the bubbly foam of the still water eddies.
It was twenty minutes later, and a good hundred yards away from the angry noise of the Widow, where they finally sat, greedily wolfing down some beer. Their burps floated in the cool night air like carbonated sighs. They sat upon the forest floor as they drank, leaning back against a bed of ferns.
Frank took a long draw from his beer and grinned. "I can't believe you actually saved the beer, man. You risked your life for fucking beer. That's actually disturbing."
His fear had been replaced by friendship. He found it funny how his lifelong friends could inspire and chase away the demons. The warmth he felt, right here, right now, could never be duplicated.
Lukas laughed at the fates and ran his hands through his hair. "Some things is worth riskin ' a life for, my man, and Budweiser is one of them."
Jimmy tapped the Bitch-Be-Quick Stick into the ground. "Ain't that the truth." He clicked his can to Jimmy's like a champagne toast before taking a long swig.
Frank sighed. "I guess I should admit I ain't had this much fun since we was in high school."
Jimmy giggled and shook his head.
"What's so funny?" Frank asked.
" Nothin ', man. You sound like one of us after some beers. You just used the word ain't in a sentence. That's like three times or somethin '. Tells me you don't use that word much in the big city."
Frank nodded.
"I feel like myself again. I don't know if it's the river, the beer, or you two redneck bastards." He grinned. "God, what have I become?"
"You grew up is all, Frank," Lukas said. "Me and Jimmy, we're still like fuckin' kids. We drink and party like it's still 1982, man. We still have the same jobs down at the mill. We still drive the same fuckin' vehicle. Fuck man, I still wear the same Black Sabbath shirt when the mood strikes."
"But you're alive, Lukas," Frank said. "You're living your life. Sure I have more money and I have a nice place...but...but sometimes I don't even feel alive . I've laughed so much since you guys picked me up, my fucking stomach hurts. When I'm home, I don't laugh at all. I just go through the everyday routine. There are days when I feel dead inside. You guys may not have lots of money, but you live life as it's supposed to be lived. I guess you have no idea how good that is unless you live like I do."
"Maybe you should move back here," Jimmy said. "Hang
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