(no subject)
Ed Groat and Henge stood there, that fateful morning, on the banks of Lake Me. Fog hung across the surface, and frogs made noise. It was not really a glamorous bank, mostly hillsides carved by bulldozers and filled with aggregate gravel and pulverized red bricks - refuse from Milton University building projects.
Ed had unloaded his canoe from the top of his Dodge pickup truck, untying the knotted scraggly rope and flinging it into the capped bed.
“Rope is a very important substance Lou,” he said to Henge, but only because Henge was standing next to him.
Henge grabbed the aft portion of the canoe as Ed grabbed the fore, and they heaved it off the makeshift roof rack and shouldered it over to the bank.
Together, they launched the canoe, and as the bow of the fiberglass hull scraped against the aggregate bank of Lake Me it made a sad grinding sound.
Ed, with his deerskin unitard, coonskin cap, and concrete splattered work boots, boarded his craft with paddle in hand.
“Thanks Jack,” Ed said to Henge.
They both paused there, Henge with his Sioux headdress on, and Ed in coonskin cap. They narrowed their eyes to each other. They didn’t really hate each other, but they knew they needed to battle. Summer was coming to a close, and they didn’t have anything better to do.
Henge fought tears. “See you bubba,” he said.
“Yeah,” Ed said, “see ya,” he said. He paddled softly, steadying his fiberglass canoe. “See ya Jack.”
Henge turned his back to Ed Groat. He knew that from this point forward, talking with Ed would only be construed as fraternization, and wearing the Sioux headdress, he knew the dangers of fraternization. He walked over to the dock where his thirteen foot snipe was moored in slip thirty seven.
William Comparetto
© 2006
Ed had unloaded his canoe from the top of his Dodge pickup truck, untying the knotted scraggly rope and flinging it into the capped bed.
“Rope is a very important substance Lou,” he said to Henge, but only because Henge was standing next to him.
Henge grabbed the aft portion of the canoe as Ed grabbed the fore, and they heaved it off the makeshift roof rack and shouldered it over to the bank.
Together, they launched the canoe, and as the bow of the fiberglass hull scraped against the aggregate bank of Lake Me it made a sad grinding sound.
Ed, with his deerskin unitard, coonskin cap, and concrete splattered work boots, boarded his craft with paddle in hand.
“Thanks Jack,” Ed said to Henge.
They both paused there, Henge with his Sioux headdress on, and Ed in coonskin cap. They narrowed their eyes to each other. They didn’t really hate each other, but they knew they needed to battle. Summer was coming to a close, and they didn’t have anything better to do.
Henge fought tears. “See you bubba,” he said.
“Yeah,” Ed said, “see ya,” he said. He paddled softly, steadying his fiberglass canoe. “See ya Jack.”
Henge turned his back to Ed Groat. He knew that from this point forward, talking with Ed would only be construed as fraternization, and wearing the Sioux headdress, he knew the dangers of fraternization. He walked over to the dock where his thirteen foot snipe was moored in slip thirty seven.
William Comparetto
© 2006