I was always going places, I shouldn’t be, with my friend. He liked motorcycle riding, scuba diving, and hang-gliding. His idea of a good time, was to almost die.
It’s true—I enjoy life, even though I’m depressed most of the time.
I got into the water.
“Heck,” I said. “My fat is a floatation device,” but I didn’t know about the power of ocean currents.
My biggest fear was the monsters that lurk in the deep.
I should’ve been afraid of my friend.
He took me out. If I cramped-up, I was going to drown.
Being burned in a fiery plane crash, appealed more to me, than sinking into the cold depths.
That’s when I felt the acid in my legs, building, like a muscle ache.
“Hey man, I need to swim back,” I said.
“No, you’re fine. We’ll just let the tide take us back.”
But we were pushed-out to sea.
“Hey Chris, you’re going to have to help me back.”
“I can’t do that. It’s all in your head,” Chris said.
I had it with him and started to swim back.
Then my legs seized-up, and only my arms flapped.
I couldn’t get horizontal. That’s when he came-up behind me.
I panicked, grabbing onto him, and he went under.
Then he bobbed back up.
“I’m going to die!” I yelled.
I punched him in the nose, watching him bleed.
He shoved me, and I grabbed onto him. He was the only thing that could float.
We were moving into shore, but not fast enough. He was underwater.
I was floating towards the beach, and I couldn’t feel my legs, or him.
I could see his sister staring at me. “Where’s Chris?” She asked.
I choked-up a mouthful of water. “He’s still out there.”
“Is he okay?”
“I think so,” but as the sun set in the sky and melted the pink ice cream away, my friend didn’t swim in.
We called the lifeguard and got a boat to scour the harbor.
No body was found.
It was like my friend didn’t exist. He was swallowed by the sea.
There was some fire whiskey in the airport.
I never drink the stuff, but I took two free samples.
It warmed me up.