Thermodynamic Bad Decisions

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Mark and Gator were holding onto their hats as the old boat was barely staying in the water. They didn’t know how fast it was going, but whatever wasn’t bolted down, duct taped, or wired shut was flying out of the boat.

The boat motor was actin' like it was angry and throwing a fit over whatever was in the thermos they had put in the gas tank. Mark had already let go of the throttle because it was red hot and seemed like it knew where it was going anyway.

​

“Hang on Gator! We might be in a real live pre-dicament here!”

Gator had both tiny arms wrapped around the sides of the boat so hard his claws had sunk into the wood.

His hat was pulled down tight against his head.

Wind whipped past his face.

The old boat was skimming across the lake like it had suddenly remembered somewhere important to be.

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Behind them:

WHOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW!!

The motor wasn’t making ordinary motor noises anymore.

It had moved beyond machinery.

This sounded spiritual.

Tackle boxes, old bobbers, and something neither of them recognized flew out of the boat and disappeared behind them.

​

Gator’s eyes were huge.

“PRE-DICAMENT?!”

Wind slapped his words sideways.

“MARK WE DONE PASSED PRE-DICAMENT THREE MILES AGO!”

The motor screamed again:

WHOOOOWWWHHHHH-SPUTT-WHOOOOOM!

Gator looked behind the boat.

Then...

A wake.

Then...

Steam.

Then...

A strange black trail rolling behind them.

​

Long pause.

Real long pause.

Gator swallowed.

“Mark... I believe...”

He pointed at the motor.

“I BELIEVE WE HAVE TAUGHT COFFEE HOW TO RUN.”

​

The cabin was coming up real quick and the motor was glowing red hot.

“We might have to jump Gator. I can’t swim real good wearing all these heavy fishin’ clothes and these boots. You got all them Gator skills so you come fetch me to the bank.”

Mark commenced taking off his boots and overhauls.

​

That was it.

He was naked to the world and about to jump in when suddenly the motor just stopped.

Not sputtered.

Not coughed.

Stopped cold.

The wake rolled over the back of the boat and four fish flopped into the boat.

The boat gently bumped the dock.

​

Mark looked over at Gator.

Gator’s eyes were wet from holding in laughter.

The laugh explosion was imminent.

Then the dam broke.

“HAAAAAA-HAAAAAA-HAAAAAA!”

“MARK! YOU GOT ON A CHURCH HAT...”

“AND ABSOLUTELY NOTHIN’ ELSE!”

“YOU LOOK LIKE A RETIRED GARDEN GNOME THAT ESCAPED INTO THE WILDERNESS!”

​

Two old friends sat there in that dead boat laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

Four fish flopped around beside them.

Then from somewhere out in the fog:

“HAAAAAA-HAAAAAA-HAAAAAA!”

Silence.

Gator froze.

“...Billy saw every bit of dat.”

​

Wiping tears from his eyes, Mark started gathering his clothes while standing in the boat.

Gator put one foot on the dock and rocked the boat.

Mark did a backflip into the shallow water but somehow kept both hands protecting his Tom’s Bait, Tackle and Church hat.

Dripping.

Nekkid.

​

One boot had a fish inside gasping for whatever funk it had been trying to breathe.

Mark said nothing and walked toward the cabin.

Nekkid to God and everybody.

SLAM.

Gator looked down at the fish.

“...you saw all dat too, didn’t ya?”

The fish flopped.

“Some things happen between friends out fishin’.”

Long pause.

“Some things... go with us to the grave.”

​

The fish flopped again.

“...this gonna take biscuits to fix.”

Smoke rolled from the motor and it slipped into the lake.

The water boiled.

The motor popped back up and started itself.

It made circles.

Then took off across the lake.

Then:

FIREBALL.

EXPLOSION.

​

Silence.

Gator removed his hat and placed it over his heart.

“Dat motor weren’t much to look at.”

“It smoked too much.”

“It coughed a lot.”

“It leaked things we never properly identified.”

“But by God...”

“...it carried us.”

​

Then something floated toward shore.

The thermos.

Still floating.

Still intact.

Still somehow alive-looking.

​

Mark ran out onto the porch wearing his overalls.

“What the hell was that explosion, Gator?”

Gator pointed toward the lake.

“...I appreciate you puttin’ clothes back on.”

“Cause the Lord gave me many gifts...”

“...but forgettin’ ain’t one of ‘em.”

​

Long pause.

“Dat motor appears to have completed its earthly journey.”

“After departing dis world...”

“...it briefly entered low orbit.”

“...and then...”

“...it met Jesus.”

Silence.

Then Gator squinted.

“...I think we’re gonna have to bury dat thing separately