The four of us were just hanging out by the edge of the lake in folding chairs, sprawled comfortably in t-shirts and cutoff shorts. We hadn’t been together for a while due to demands of our jobs, so the weekend date was a real treat. It was almost back to work time and we were enjoying the last few minutes of relaxation when a big guy walked up to us.

“Hi, folks. I’ve got something wonderful to show you like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”

Connie gave that long suffering look ‘I hope he won’t pull out his cock, or something’, but he was full of energy and good spirit, so she said:

“Go ahead.”

“I have to show it to you indoors,” waving a small black box, “because it doesn’t work outside.”

Timmy gave me that ‘give me a break’ look, but the guy was really winning and we had to go in to change anyway, so I said:

“Sure.”

We went in and he followed chatting cheerfully. The living room of the rental cottage was dank and messy, the best we could do on short notice. Truth be known, there weren’t many affordable getaway rentals in upstate New York these days between depressed communities and abandoned farms. Frequent clashes between white supremacist groups and aggressive protestors further stressed the resources of the area.

By this time the guy was keeping up a patter to distract us, waving the black box in one hand, promising wonders. We all noticed his adept scooping up of our money, rings, watches and other valuables lying around. The girls went into the bedroom and changed. The guy almost freaked out when they came out in State Trooper uniforms. Connie smiled pleasantly.

“Put everything back.”

While he restored the pilfered stuff the girls kissed us goodbye and Bert went in to change. The guy looked at me appraisingly, then said quietly:

“I’m much bigger than you.”

“True. But you don’t want to go there.”

“Why not?”

Before I could answer him Bert came out in his deputy sheriff’s uniform and said:

“Get moving, Cal. It’s getting late.”

The guy finally got the message that he hit the wrong group. Deflated, he slunk off while I was changing into my uniform.

# # #

Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director, and as an art dealer when he couldn’t make a living in theater. He has 12 published chapbooks and 2 accepted for publication. His poetry collections include: Days of Destruction (Skive Press), Expectations (Rogue Scholars Press). Dawn in Cities, Assault on Nature, Songs of a Clerk and others. His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway. His poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines. He currently lives in New York City. 

Photo: Oliver Peters