| General Fiction posted December 2, 2024 |
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Living the dream
Lucky Charlie
by Wayne Fowler
The last time I saw Charlie he was going down for the third time. We’d been practicing all last fall, and up until now, all spring. And let me tell you… that river is cold!
Nearly everyone in our medium-sized town swam in the lake – it was warmer, had a better beach, and had a concession stand. The river gathered mostly fishermen and the few among them with kids old enough to safely swim in the river’s current.
As I said, we’d been practicing. We built a spring-board diving board on a Jonboat – that’s a flat-bottom, square-bow outfit used by small, shallow river fishermen, like as would trout fish on the White. We figured that about six feet tall was the best we could do for clear visibility from the shore and boat stability. Both were important.
What we practiced was not our diving technique or skill. It was strictly the showmanship. We needed authenticity: diving, theatrics, and disappearing. The dive was to garner attention: stand, bounce, holler, and perform a dive that people would watch. We learned that a backward somersault, straightening out to enter the water, was the best of our limited repertoire.
Then we practiced grandstanding the under for the third time routine. This was as much the theatrics and excitement level of the observer as the diver/swimmer. Last was the swimmer’s ability to escape unseen.
Escaping unseen meant swimming underwater, barely surfacing our heads only long enough to take in air. Down river a quarter mile on the opposite bank and around a bend, we’d constructed a sort of beaver nest stocked with packaged food, water, and clothing.
Charlie apparently seized the opportunity. I knew it at his first pop-up out of the water. I saw it in his eyes in the quick instance that he’d surfaced. He was going to beat me to it.
A half a million bucks, in his pocket, and an arrangement with a flight service out of south Texas to fly him over Belize where he would parachute out. We were supposed to flip for it, but the last time I saw him, I knew he’d one-upped me.
The whole began with a start-up AI graphics business. For less than $10,000, we had a business license, a patent application in the works, and a mutual insurance policy – half a million on each of us, payable to the survivor. Lucky me… not. Lucky Charlie.
All he had to do was to lay low until I could get him the dough. Now, he’s in a river house in Belize enjoying pina coladas while I’m in a suit and tie struggling to attend meeting after meeting using words I do not comprehend, some entirely made up.
Oh well, his money will run out in 6-7 years, if not stolen from him. Meanwhile, Apple bought our patent, an AI program that interfaces stained glass windows, quartz prisms, and remote animation. I doubt they will ever actually do anything with it, they just go around buying stuff –mostly as write-offs with the hope that one in a hundred pay off. Regardless, I’m sitting on twelve million… after taxes. And not hiding from anybody.
Yeah, the last time I saw Charlie he was going under for the third time, hoping to look for a lost salt shaker.
Charlie writing prompt entry
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Writing Prompt Write a story that begins with the line: The last time I saw Charlie ... (continue the sentence and story). |
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