Story 49: Unlicensed Parasailing

The group’s first inkling that something was not quite right about the crew taking them parasailing was the slapdash paint job on the motorboat.  The captain and first mate then emerged from a nearby cabin: twin brothers who each had an eye patch (on opposite eyes) and quickly took everyone’s cash payment as they hustled the 10 adventurers on board.  With a sputtering roar, the captain started the jet engine and his sound system, with everyone flung backward as he howled and the stereos blasted “DEAAAAAAAATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Slow – No Wake Zone” signs and fellow boaters were ignored as the ship of doom careened out of the harbor at 100 knots; no fish, gull, or stand-up paddleboarder was safe.  The first mate shouted instructions the parasailers needed to know to survive, but nothing could be heard over the engine, the screaming music, or the screaming passengers.  The captain’s maniacal laughter every time he upset another boat also was distracting.

The first mate grabbed the two passengers closest to him, who were strangers to each other but appeared to meet the weight requirements, and shoved life jackets and harnesses on them.  As the sail was deployed, the emblem of a supernova dripping blood blossomed beautifully open.  The strangers were then attached to the sail’s harness and a gust of wind blasted them off the boat and 1,000 feet into the air.  The captain cruised around for a few minutes, using the laws of physics for human entertainment by turning the boat this way and that and then slamming to a halt so the parasailers crashed into the ocean below.  A passing dolphin gave them a nose-boost back into the air, and they were reeled in by a winch to crash land onto the flight deck.  The first mate then pulled them out of the harness while shoving the next pair of strangers in, having already efficiently prepared them while the previous group was in flight.

This system continued up until the last pair, who were released from their tether by the captain because he wanted to give them “the ultimate experience”.  As they sailed through the pre-hurricane air, one of the passengers still on the boat grabbed a knife the captain had hanging nearby and threatened the twins with it if they were not returned to the nearest land immediately.  The captain begrudgingly ran the boat aground on a local beach, where the passengers ran for their lives; two hours later, the lost parasailers glided themselves safely onto the dock where they originally had disembarked, now facing the struggles of escaping the harnesses and deciding who keeps the sail.  Alone, the captain and first mate removed their unnecessary eye patches and started repairs on the boat.  They also spent the time concocting new variations on how to the do their run: after all, doing the same thing day in, day out, gets awfully boring.

Story 48: Association of Amateur Stalkers

Not based on a true story; just a bit of silliness.

 

I used to think I was all alone in the world, until I met some of my own kind the other day.  I was sitting in my car in the early afternoon as usual, waiting for my special someone to leave community service, when I spotted another car waiting nearby in that same expectant matter.  Like recognizes like, and while my first thought was that this was a private investigator some wife had hired, deep down I knew I had found a kindred spirit at last.

I had a few more hours of patient idleness ahead of me, so I figured I’d be friendly.  I swung my car around to be parallel with the other one and lowered my window.  The driver started panicking until I held up my binoculars, sheepishly.  He held up his own, and we laughed in our shared misery.  He had some time to kill too, so we chatted about our mutual interest.  Realizing that there actually were more than one of us out there, we decided to do what anyone finding themselves to be two or more of would do: we formed a club.

Not wanting to be exclusive, I sent out feelers on the wonderful interconnected net and was able to attract the interest of some locals to join us.  I arranged our first meeting to be held in my parents’ basement at 3:00 p.m. on a Sunday, since that was really the only time most of us were free from our duties and real-world jobs.

I never had thought much about how lonely my hobby is until I met others in the same boat.  We first discussed what our organization should be called, settling on Association of Amateur Stalkers since our first choice, Amateur Stalker Society, had the acronym of ASS and we felt that had a negative connotation.  We then each took turns presenting our current projects: some of us, myself included, are serial and cannot commit all our lives to just one object of devotion and must continually find someone new.  The monogamous ones are very dedicated and have perpetual restraining orders to their credit (another reason why I switch it up from time to time).  None of us take photos or trespass on property – we are strictly real-time observers.  At the end of the meeting, one of the members stood and arrested all of us for voyeurism, which we accepted as our due.  As I sit in my cell, I recall the cop, while still incognito, asking if we’d ever consider taking the extra step and going professional.

No, never, we all agreed.  Those guys are sick.

Story 47: Rude Ellen Etiquette

(At a local convenience store, Rude Ellen Etiquette enters and sees someone coming behind her, not all that quickly.  She continues to hold the door open)

Rude Ellen Etiquette: Hurry up!  I don’t have all day to hold this open for you!

(The person increases velocity and speeds through the door under her glare)

Rude Ellen Etiquette!

            (At a fancy dinner, one of the guests is having trouble cutting a filet mignon)

Rude Ellen Etiquette: You’re using the wrong knife and fork, no wonder nothing’s happening.  Here, use mine.  (She throws both at the guest, and they land blade and tines in the table in front of him) You’re welcome.

Rude Ellen Etiquette!

(At a movie theater, two people continually speak loud enough to be a distraction to the rest of the audience.  Rude Ellen Etiquette is sitting behind them and leans in between their heads to whisper)

Rude Ellen Etiquette: On behalf of the entire theater, if you don’t shut up this second, I will kill you.

Rude Ellen Etiquette!

(On a busy highway, a car switches lanes frequently and keeps cutting off drivers, almost causing several accidents.  Rude Ellen Etiquette drives up behind the car, flashing her headlights and beeping her horn before running the car off the road into a ditch)

Rude Ellen Etiquette: (Yelling out the window) Think on your sins!

Rude Ellen Etiquette!

(At an emergency room, one person is finally taken in for a third-degree burn when another person starts complaining loudly for still having to wait to be seen for a sprained finger.  Rude Ellen Etiquette, also waiting, walks over to him)

Rude Ellen Etiquette: Would you like to be taken first?  (The complainer answers in the affirmative; Rude Ellen Etiquette stabs him in the leg with a pen) After you, then.

Rude Ellen Etiquette!

(In prison, Rude Ellen Etiquette is on the chow line when a fight breaks out in the middle of the cafeteria.  She gives up her place in line, walks over to the two main fighters, and whacks both of them upside the head with her tray)

Rude Ellen Etiquette: Remember that we’re all being punished together – if we turn on each other, they win!  (She is beaten by both fighters, but earns the respect of everyone else)

Rude Ellen Etiquette!

(Released on probation, Rude Ellen Etiquette returns home and is disturbed at 2:00 a.m. by loud partying the next yard over.  She goes to their shared fence and turns a garden hose on them and on the stereo system)

Rude Ellen Etiquette: You have neighbors, people!

Rude Ellen Etiquette!  Always has your back.