Voluntary Masochist
June 1, 2012
The Comic Book Morality Conundrum (Short Story) {Part I}
June 15, 2012
I’ve got tons of short stories that I could post to the blog. Unfortunately, a lot of them have word counts that are much longer than your normal posting (2000-10,000 range). The majority of blog postings need to be “short and sweet” with word counts that only go up to 1,500 tops. Maintains the reader’s interest since they don’t take much time to peruse.
Today’s posting is a short story I wrote awhile ago that’s loosely based on my exploits when I went to visit my old college buddy in Vermont five years ago. Because of my accident, I didn’t get to do any of the swimming holes we wanted to. Definitely gives me an incentive to go back there for a return engagement one summer.
Word Count: 1235
Painful Serendipity
In Disguise
Nobody ever said life was fair, and this happens to be a prime example of that. Here I am on the second day after flying half way across the country to visit an old college buddy and hobbled up with a broken heel. Not only does it happen on the very afternoon after I step off the airplane, but it takes place at the initial swimming hole we visit, the very first time I jump in the water, and the exact moment after my buddy says he’s got a great week of visiting plunge pools planned. One has to assume that if it weren’t for bad luck I probably wouldn’t have any luck at all.
God only knows what I did to deserve this? Let’s be brutally honest, nothing. Even my own sisters say I’m a shining example of Boy Scout virtue in action. Don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t lie or cheat, don’t steal. Volunteer for every sort of masochistic thing that comes along even if it doesn’t sound all that appealing. Hell from an international playboy perspective, my life is downright boring when you think about it. Then this happens. I know some philosophical metaphor says you shouldn’t dwell on unplanned accidents, but so what. Waah, waaah waaaah. I’m entitled to complain all I want.
Adam Flanders wasn’t exactly feeling like last week’s Lottery winner. More like next week’s inductee to The Grumpy Old Men’s League of Malcontents.He’d flown in from Montana, where the water temperature at every swimming hole happens to be a scant two or three degrees above freezing, to his buddies’ neck of the woods in Maine. Mid summer-New England water temps. being in the bath water range. Definitely more conducive to actually jumping into holes and not wanting to exit them immediately. In anticipation of this odyssey, Adam thought it quite the novel concept actually spending some time in the water.
Speaking of expending energy, he concentrated the entire trans-continental flight slobbering over a book Nelson Honeycomb had sent him in anticipation of their adventure entitled, “Great Swimming Holes of New England”. This missive was a clear indication that there happened to be other “Gen. Y” types like themselves obsessed with jumping into hidden (or not so secret) bodies of water. Located deep within “Lord of The Rings” type environments no less.
White sandy tropical beaches? We don’t need no sea level equatorial environs. It’s easier to jump into the water at plunge pools for one thing. Besides, the stuff tastes better when you mistakenly swallowing some of it. Doesn’t make you want to up-chuck whatever’s in your stomach like you do if you go to the ocean.
Fortunately, Adam did have his latest novel to read while lying on a mattress and attempting to entertain himself. Doesn’t help matters that it happens to be some sort of espionage thriller about covert corporate spies. Making razor thin escapes from the clutches of evil business ingrates. Why couldn’t his heel have made a finely edged avoidance of that rock?
Instead he clipped it just enough while entering the water, crawled out of the creek, and knew immediately it was more than just a muscle pull. Muscle pulls don’t hurt like you’re being stretched out on a medieval torture machine. Maybe they do, Adam never had the occasion to experience that form of physical abuse.
He followed that in short order by having to hop up the hill to Nelson’s car, and then suffering in silence while driving back to the house. It’s broken all right. Knew that when I couldn’t even stand up and put any weight on the foot without envisioning an extended vacation at Guantanomo Bay.
_______________
“Man you should’ve seen the expression on that nurses’ face when you exited the examination room and hopped your way down the hall to the bathroom,” said Nelson. “Hilarious is putting it mildly.”
Adam grimaced. “What else was I supposed to do? Sit in that diagnosis room with a full bladder till the day after Armageddon?”
“Might take that long too. What were you in there for, four hours? Good thing they were planning to have a doctor examine the X-rays right away.”
“Something like that. God only knows when they were actually going to send a chiropractor in to tell me the heel is out of commission for the next six weeks.
Nelson chuckled. “Luckily this country has the best health care system in the world. Imagine what it’d be like if you weren’t insured?”
“I’d rather not envision that scenario.”
Since Adam’s flight back home wasn’t for another week, he had lots of time to twiddle his thumbs between readings. Unfortunately none of those readings happened to be the local newspaper in Nelson’s hometown of Arcadia Cove, “The Times Journal.”
The boy’s next plunge pool visit happened to be “Harmony Gorge”. Just below the site of a former stone quarry that had backfilled itself with a huge quantity of water, then ended up being plugged with a makeshift damn of soil and rock. Not exactly built with the most dynamic architectural foresight put into the endeavor. More like casual afterthought and Arcadia Cove’s town fathers wanting to get something done without putting any sort of time, money, or effort into it.
A retired foundation contractor named Horacio Muntz had been warning local authorities for over four years that the makeshift damn was precariously holding up. About to burst as the result of the smallest amount of stress to its wall. This would force its hand and cause the structure to burst ominously. As Horacio put it, “One straw short of a highly aggravated camel back.” Result being a huge wall of water flooding into the gorge downstream and making your last swimming hole visit look like a nonchalant inner tube float trip.
That’s exactly what happened too. Torrential rains right after Adam’s heel mishap had opened up the sky for the past three days. Suddenly the underpinnings of the damn started to loosen up and water began to seep through. Since there wasn’t a kid present to stick his finger in the dyke, things slowly began to collapse. Sure enough water burst through and a perfect opportunity for a front-page story presented itself for an aspiring Times Journal reporter.
_______________
The incident’s aftermath became quite the topic of discussion for the former college roommates:
“Hey gimpy,” said Nelson as he waltzed into the living room. “You see the front page story in today’s Times Journal?”
“No,” said Adam. “Contrary to what you may think, I’m not really as bored as I look. Your hometown isn’t exactly a hotbed of activity.”
“Sometimes it is.”
“Yeah right. News about Ethel Chalmer’s visit to see her new grandson just doesn’t seem to cut it with me.”
“Check this out. Yesterday’s big story.”
Adam’s eyes grew one size bigger. “Oh my gosh.”
Nelson smiled, and then he realized the ramifications had they been there. “Turns out we would’ve visited Harmony Gorge right when this huge washout took place.”
“Scary.”
“That’s putting it mildly. You breaking that heel was like a blessing in disguise for the two of us.”
“Sure didn’t feel that way when it took place.”
“A lot of things in life don’t make much sense when they happen, but in the end there’s usually always a reason for them to occur the way they do.”
