The Wolves of Third Clan Page 10

  Chapter 9

  We ended up driving over one of mans’ least impressive inventions; the toll road. For a period in my education I was inundated with patriotic pride over the rebellious colonists who risked life and limb to gain their freedom over a despised monarchial form of government. One of the lessons they taught was poor people don’t like to be reminded they’re poor, not when they’re the ones producing everything for a bunch of self-righteous nitwits whose only reason for being wealthy was because some long-dead ancestor had the privilege to impress some long-ago heir to a long-lost empire and was rewarded with property they neither earned nor maintained. The most memorable story was of the King’s Road which was essentially a dirt path someone had to pay to travel on. Now, I don’t think the peasants cared a whit over the fact some people were riding in golden carriages while others were barefoot (maybe those wealthy people did something good for society and earned their rides?) but when it came time to charge for the road I think there’s where the problem arose. People don’t mind others are successful, everyone wants to be successful, but what they don’t like is when people are arrogant with their wealth. Charging poor people to travel the same path on Mother Nature’s Green Earth as the wealthy is the utmost in arrogance. It’s about money. Wealthy people have it, poor people don’t. You want to buy a castle to get away from the masses?

  SOUNDS GOOD.

  Okay, if you’ve got the money, go for it. You want the masses to keep their distance from you as you travel through their part of town?

  YES.

  Whoa there big fella!

  OKAY, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

  Greed, Humpty-Dumpty, I’m talking about greed. It’s the most evil trait the Human population possesses and some have it more than others.

  I THOUGHT GREED WAS GOOD? I THOUGHT GREED GOT PEOPLE TO ADVANCE SOCIETIES FORWARD?

  Yep, it can, but it carries with it one small defect which makes it deplorable.

  WHAT?

  Narcissism, greed is a byproduct of it. Greedy people are selfish; they see themselves as more deserving than others so they spend their lives acquiring wealth in order to prove it.

  SO?

  So, in order to acquire wealth you must take it from others. The easiest way to do it and not think of yourself as a narcissist is to develop the belief the people you’re taking it from are inherently less than you.

  “I hate toll roads” I whispered to Trudy.

  “Why, Johnny? I love them” Trudy whispered back to my utter dismay.

  “Because they discriminate against poor people” I responded wittily.

  “No they don’t” she responded confusingly.

  “Yes they do. Poor people don’t have the money to travel on them” I retorted brilliantly.

  “That’s not discrimination, Johnny. They can travel on the toll roads anytime they want if they get the money.”

  “But it equals the same thing because they don’t have the money.”

  “That’s their fault, Johnny.”

  And there’s the struggle free societies will face if they’re to remain free. Some people will always have more than others.

  I LIKE THAT!

  I thought you would.

  “I still hate toll roads” I emphatically declared.

  “I hear you, Johnny. Look at that old jalopy hogging the fast lane. There should be a law, ‘No cars older than ten years’” said George from the front seat and I could literally hear the first colonists rolling over in their graves.

  The time was roughly noon, Central Standard Time, and the day was roughly hot. And by hot I don’t mean the blissful, moisture-filled Florida hot or the nice, sauna-like Arizona hot. No, I mean Texas hot; the kind of hot where you flinch like you were hit with bird poo every time you stick your head outside an air-conditioned environ. I read somewhere there were places on the planet hotter than Texas and if it’s true then I have pity on the poor desert dwellers. You know a place is hot when you subconsciously avoid anything made of metal and a dip in a huge reservoir of water brings virtuously no relief at all. That’s where we finally found ourselves after driving about an hour on the amazingly congested freeway we had to enter after exiting the amazingly empty, high-fallootin’ toll road.

  “Okay, everyone, hop out” said George and I waited until the last possible second to exit the blissfully cool pickup truck.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed.

  “Yes, Johnny?” Phillip inquired.

  “I’m not hot! I’m sweating like a soaker-hose but I’m not hot.”

  “Your body has adapted to our blood which will make all your bodily functions perform at their optimal level.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ll perspire to rid yourself of the excess heat.”

  “Wow! But won’t I run out of sweat?”

  “Yeah, if you don’t replace the fluids your body will shut down and you’ll be in a coma-like state to save whatever fluids you need to survive.”

  “But wouldn’t I fry if I was lying in a coma?”

  “Yeah, come to think about it you probably would. We can do it because our bodies would keep repairing any sun damage until nightfall but you…? Well, don’t worry about it until it comes up.”

  “Don’t worry about it?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t think of elephant, Phillip.”

  “Don’t think of elephant? What’s that got to do with… oh, okay, point taken.”

  I DON’T GET IT?

  I knew you wouldn’t.

  The five of us were walking down to the lake’s shoreline and I’m always amazed by the sight of a big body of water; it’s got the ability to mesmerize a person just by its sheer unadulterated beauty. The rippling of the water adds movement but the gracefulness makes it serene and pleasing to the eye; a little like fire if you think about it. The lakeshore was tranquil and quiet with nary a bird in the sky nor squirrel on the ground.

  “How far out did you throw them?” asked George.

  “About fifty yards” responded Phillip.

  “Fifty yards?” I asked in amazement.

  “Yes” Phillip responded nonchalantly.

  “Man, you should’ve played football, you’d be in the Hall of Fame.”

  “What’s the Hall of Fame?” asked Trudy.

  “I’m sorry; what did you just ask?” I answered in stuttering confusion.

  “What’s the Hall of Fame?” she responded with the same incredibly incomprehensible question.

  “What’s the…? It’s… It’s…”

  “Johnny, I’ve got this one” Phillip kindly interjected.

  “It’s… it’s…” I couldn’t get the words out because the question was so far-fetched as to warp the very fabric of time and space itself.

  “Trudy, the Hall of Fame is where they honor the best football players in America” said Phillip.

  “In the world!” I corrected.

  “Oh, the guys who kick the ball into the net?” she asked.

  “Oh… my… God!”

  “Easy, Johnny. No, that’s what they call football everywhere else in the world except America.”

  “What does America call it?”

  “Sissy-ball.”

  “They do not call it sissy-ball, Johnny, they call it soccer” said Phillip.

  “Why do they call it soccer?”

  “Guys?” George interrupted.

  “Yes?” both Phillip and Trudy replied in unison.

  “The body parts...? The lake...?”

  “Oh, okay, remind me later and I’ll tell you why America changed the name of every sport England ever invented” Phillip said to Trudy.

  England should’ve seen it coming. It’s only common sense a country who fought a bloody war for independence would pick its own names for the national pastimes it enjoys and football, make no mistake, is America’s favorite national pastime. No other sport brings su
ch violence and grace into play throughout the game as the great gridiron smash-em-up. Now, many people would argue baseball is America’s favorite pastime and they’ve got somewhat of a small point since it has been historically longer in the country’s psyche but I would like to point out one thing; it is unequivocally, eyelid-dropping, snore-inspiring, boring at times.

  I LIKE SOCCER.

  You would.

  American politicians have gone through many changes as the population grew; from agricultural appeasement to the tried and true practice of being bought and paid for by those with money. But one thing has remained pure in those vote-begging mongrels’ hearts; always praise the entrepreneur. Entrepreneurs are an amazing group of individuals because they see what others don’t, namely, a way into your pocketbook previously untapped and for a country based on capitalism it’s the single most admirable trait a citizen can enjoy. The fact virtually every idea those amazing individuals come up with ends in complete and utter failure only adds to their mystique.

  “Welcome to Joe’s Boat Rentals” the friendly man with the abundance of tattoos said as we walked up en mass to his shop located next to the marina on the lake.

  “We’d like to rent a boat” said Vivian and the man’s shiny gold incisor shined brightly in the afternoon sun as his goatee parted in a wide smile.

  “Sure, big enough for the five of you?” he asked.

  “Yes please” she smiled back and I’d bet you a million dollars the man would’ve stolen a boat if he didn’t already have one in order to please the stunning blonde Vamp.

  “Have you ever rented here before?”

  “No” she answered.

  “Okay, no problem. I’ll just need a little information and we’ll get you on the water right quick. Would you follow me?”

  “Sure” she said and trailed the man into the small fifteen-by-fifteen foot storage shed which served as his office to entrepreneurial boat rentalism.

  George followed the two of them because it’s what he was designed to do by the green Aliens who bred into him the protective qualities of a mother duck on steroids. Meanwhile Phillip, Trudy and I checked out the vast array of water vehicles available to rent. They included three ten-foot john boats, seven varying styles of jet-skis and one twenty-foot pontoon boat.

  “Ooh! I’ve always wanted to try out a jet-ski” Trudy said in her delectable way.

  I did too, once, and made my wish come true one lazy afternoon about three summers before and it was quite the wild ride, let me tell you; what with smashing my face into the handlebars about six times followed by treading water for what seemed like an hour while the hungry machine circled me like a shark hunting a moribund grey seal.

  “You should do it sometime, they’re a lot of fun” I responded in my manly, done-it-all fashion.

  “Hey! They’ve got canoes!” shouted Phillip.

  “Have you ever been canoeing, Johnny?” asked Trudy.

  “Uh-huh. One time in summer camp” I responded.

  “Was it fun?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah, it was a blast” I answered because it was fun. Well, it was fun for me.

  If for some reason you get the chance to go canoeing, do it, but remember one thing; whom you choose to canoe with is the most important decision you will make the entire day. I chose Mike; a big, strapping young man who was three inches taller and probably forty pounds heavier at the time. It started out great, cutting downstream at a pace fast enough to feel like you were making progress but not so slow you would miss the scenery and it would’ve ended great if not for one small thing; paddling upriver. It was, and still is, by far the most exhausting thing I’ve ever attempted, and I mean ‘attempted’, because I don’t believe I was any help at all to poor Mike for about, oh, nine-tenths of the trip. Who would’ve thought pulling a stick through water would use so many muscles I previously believed didn’t exist. Most of the stories of the early settlers who conquered the land tell of striking battles with the Native Indians which ended in scalpings, swordfights and other horrific events. I don’t believe it to be so.

  NO?

  No, I believe the early settlers merely bided their time at locations they knew the Indians traveled upstream by canoe to visit and when they arrived, attacked the poor saps because they were too exhausted to put up a fight. I know I would’ve been. If you were to wait for me on the bank, a place I paddled upriver to get to, you would merely need to amble down and plunge your dagger into my heart for there would be absolutely no resistance from me.

  GOOD TO KNOW.

  “Okay guys, we’re all set” Vivian exclaimed as she bounded down the slope to our location by the water’s edge.

  “Which one did you get?” asked Trudy.

  “The pontoon!” Vivian said excitedly.

  “Ooh! The pontoon!” Trudy responded with just as much enthusiasm.

  George and Phillip smiled at each other and I’m sure I know why. Female enthusiasm is so much more exciting than male enthusiasm. It must be the extra chromosome or the lack of one, I can never remember which it is but, whatever it is, it makes girls so much more enjoyable to be around when they’re actually excited about at an upcoming event. Guys are too stoic, they take some of the fun out of something new because they’re so worried about being cool they forget how to have fun. Except for football of course, the real football, the American kind, where men get paid to make other men addicted to painkillers.

  “This is nice” said Trudy as the boat motored along at a slow clip.

  “Yes it is, we should do this more often” answered Vivian.

  “Yes, we really should” Trudy replied.

  “About here, Phillip?” asked George.

  “Yeah, I think this is about it” he replied.

  “What exactly are we doing?” I asked.

  “We’re picking up Bob and Steve” he replied.

  “And how exactly are we going to do that?” I responded and was answered with the sound of a splash as Phillip dove into the murky water.

  “Seriously? You’re going to search around in gar infested water for their bodies?”

  “Sure, why not?” answered George.

  “Because it’s gar infested water, George. Alligator gar, you ever heard of them?”

  “No, are they dangerous?”

  “They’re called alligator gar.”

  “So?”

  “Not guppy gar; alligator gar.”

  “What’s your point, Johnny?”

  “They’ve got teeth, George.”

  “So does Phillip” he responded.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond so once again I chose silence as the best answer.

  “Um, guys?” I said.

  “Yes, Johnny?” said Trudy.

  “He’s still down there.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Don’t you think he should be back up by now?”

  “Oh, he’ll be up after he finds them.”

  “After he finds…? How long can he hold his breath?”

  “About eight minutes or so” she said.

  “Eight minutes? Really?”

  “Yes, the brain requires oxygen after four minutes or else it starts to experience damage. Once you get to eight minutes then you’re really talking trouble but since we heal so fast the eight minute barrier is what we rely upon.”

  “Can I do it?”

  “We don’t know, there haven’t been any of you around for so long we don’t have a good reference to rely on.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We don’t really have …”

  “I got that part, it’s the other part I didn’t quite understand.”

  “What part?” Trudy replied.

  “The part about there not having been any of me around.”

  “Oh, well…”

  “Got one!” Phillip shouted as he emerged on the north side of the pontoon boat.

  “Which one?” asked George.

  “Don’t know. It’s just one of the arms but I saw the other
s so we’ll have them both back up here in no time. Head’s up!” he hollered as he threw a waterlogged man’s arm into the boat.

  “Looks like one of Steve’s” said Vivian.

  And then it twitched.

  “Holy…!” I yelled.

  “There it goes” said Trudy.

  “What a shame” said Vivian.

  “How could we not have looked” said George.

  “It just moved! Look! It’s doing it again!” I yelled.

  “Yes, Johnny, we know, we’re standing right here with you” replied Trudy.

  “But… but…?”

  “Heads up!” Phillip screamed from the water as two more arms were tossed on board.

  “Holy…! They’re all moving!”

  “Yes, Sweetie, we see them too, would you please stop shouting” Vivian said.

  “But… ?“

  “Look out!” and the upper half of Steve What’s-his-name landed on board with a thud. He looked like a weeble-wobble with just a torso and head and maybe, just maybe, I would’ve been able to take it but then…

  “He… just… blinked!” I said as I jumped overboard.

  I’ve always been a good swimmer and think I could probably tread water for an hour so when the gorgeous Vampires asked if I was all right and needed any help I responded…

  “No, I’m fine, thank you very much.”

  … and would’ve been quite content to keep on floating except…

  “Hey, Johnny?”

  “Yes, Phillip?”

  “What do you call a man in the water with no arms or legs?”

  “Huh? Look, Phillip, I’m a little freaked out right now so I would appreciate it if…”

  “No really, Johnny; what do you call a man in the water with no arms or legs?”.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Bob!” he replied and in front of me out of the water rose the head of Bob Simpson.