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Tommy put his arms over his head and stretched. His thin, muscled stomach crept out from beneath a retreating T-shirt. It was a nice day, a good day, almost a shame to have to work today.
He liked the park and that medicinal smell of eucalyptus trees. He had always really been more of a West Coast guy and he kinda hoped he might be able to hang around here for awhile.
He reached down, grabbed the Frisbee and gave it a good toss back to Lester, who caught it with that same sort of uptight efficiency that he always did. Lester was okay, but he always walked around with this psychological stick up his ass. Tommy had been tempted to try to get him drunk and to get him laid this trip, but Lester was too much of a control freak for any of that.
Lester took a quick look at the bench again and then back to Tommy. Lester stood there for a minute with the Frisbee in his hands, looking blankly at Tommy. It was times like this that Tommy wanted to dredge up some kind of hatred for the guy. He wanted to hate him for dragging him into this ridiculous shadow world, but couldn’t. Up till this point in his life, Tommy knew his employment with the North Creek Sign Company was the best thing that could have happened to him.
Tommy clapped his hands together and pantomimed catching the Frisbee. Lester gave a quick jerk of his head towards the park bench. Tommy feigned tying a shoe and took a surreptitious look over.
The guy was still passed out on the bench, mouth hanging wide open. A bike sped past on the trail which sat between them.
Tommy nodded to Lester and Lester threw the Frisbee; he made it look like he was doing taxes. Tommy jumped up and caught it one handed behind his back, spinning on the way down so that he faced the man on the bench when he landed. He stared for half a moment.
Gauging the weight of the disc and the resistance of the air by slowly swinging the Frisbee back and forth, Tommy took a deep breath and held it. He lightly flung the object and it flew short, but beautifully. It landed with a soft bounce on the bike path and skidded to a rest at the tip of Frank’s shoe.
Tommy began jogging over, his loose curls bouncing around his head. He reached the Frisbee and found that the guy was still passed out, still breathing like an allergy plagued dragon. He gave the Frisbee a light kick against the sleeping man’s shoes and noticed, quite quickly, the jerk up to wakefulness.
“Sorry about that man,” Tommy said to Frank with a smile that was glorious.
He liked the park and that medicinal smell of eucalyptus trees. He had always really been more of a West Coast guy and he kinda hoped he might be able to hang around here for awhile.
He reached down, grabbed the Frisbee and gave it a good toss back to Lester, who caught it with that same sort of uptight efficiency that he always did. Lester was okay, but he always walked around with this psychological stick up his ass. Tommy had been tempted to try to get him drunk and to get him laid this trip, but Lester was too much of a control freak for any of that.
Lester took a quick look at the bench again and then back to Tommy. Lester stood there for a minute with the Frisbee in his hands, looking blankly at Tommy. It was times like this that Tommy wanted to dredge up some kind of hatred for the guy. He wanted to hate him for dragging him into this ridiculous shadow world, but couldn’t. Up till this point in his life, Tommy knew his employment with the North Creek Sign Company was the best thing that could have happened to him.
Tommy clapped his hands together and pantomimed catching the Frisbee. Lester gave a quick jerk of his head towards the park bench. Tommy feigned tying a shoe and took a surreptitious look over.
The guy was still passed out on the bench, mouth hanging wide open. A bike sped past on the trail which sat between them.
Tommy nodded to Lester and Lester threw the Frisbee; he made it look like he was doing taxes. Tommy jumped up and caught it one handed behind his back, spinning on the way down so that he faced the man on the bench when he landed. He stared for half a moment.
Gauging the weight of the disc and the resistance of the air by slowly swinging the Frisbee back and forth, Tommy took a deep breath and held it. He lightly flung the object and it flew short, but beautifully. It landed with a soft bounce on the bike path and skidded to a rest at the tip of Frank’s shoe.
Tommy began jogging over, his loose curls bouncing around his head. He reached the Frisbee and found that the guy was still passed out, still breathing like an allergy plagued dragon. He gave the Frisbee a light kick against the sleeping man’s shoes and noticed, quite quickly, the jerk up to wakefulness.
“Sorry about that man,” Tommy said to Frank with a smile that was glorious.
posted by P. B. Nomer | 4:59 PM
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