My drunken friend Tom lifted his cocktail glass to it, while the rest of us only started. “Well hello, my slimy friend. What can I do for you?” he asked.
It seized Tom and threw him over its shoulder. Tom yelled, more in surprise, then screamed as a maw opened up in the lake and swallowed him whole. Tom vanished and blood, torn clothes, chunks of meat and Tom’s glasses floated to the surface.
People ran screaming. My friend Bill knocked me off the deck and into the water as he ran for his car. Bill isn’t my friend anymore. I hit my head on the edge of the boat as I went down. I had to be bleeding. I waited for water teeth to tear my body like a food processor.
Nothing happened by the time I popped back up. I gasped for air. The fresh, cold water that coated my face contrasted against the thin stream of warm that ran down from my hair. It had to be blood. Another guest at the house – I couldn’t see who – went sailing into the water. Maybe the lake was too busy munching to worry about me.
I climbed into the boat and threw off the lines. Cars were tearing up my driveway. I heard someone smashing my gun rack. The slime monster was standing near the fire pit where we’d been barbecuing the fish we caught. It kicked over the barbecue. It howled as its kelpy growths steamed when it cried to pick up the fish and picked up coals.
Fish? This was about fish?
I fired up the engine and backed up the boat at a speed that would get my license revoked for the next ten years. I was ten yards off the dock and moving faster by the time I looked up. The slime monster howled and pointed at me. Kind of. It was hard to tell when every movement dripped and blended into the rest of its body.
A wave headed for the boat. I opened the throttle wide and cranked the steering wheel hard left. I jammed my feet against the floor and prayed I didn’t get thrown. The maw opened up, a pit of black water with dagger fanged foam. My props ran right through it. Black water churned and sprayed all around the boat. I smelled kelp and lake slime. I’d never be able to get the stench out of my clothes. I kept the wheel turned, making two more circles. The boat bumped like it rode someone’s wake. Every time it did, black water went flying.
As the water settled, I heard gunfire. Phil missed the slime monster by a mile. The idiot was going to get himself killed. The slime monster turned for him. I got the boat pointed at him and opened the throttle.
Oh, this was a bad idea.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Phil having a hard time pumping the shotgun. He had two people standing near him that were going to take a face full of buckshot if he didn’t pay attention.
The slime monster started for Phil, then double-clutched as it saw my boat screaming toward it.
“Private party, scumbag!” I yelled.
Fiberglas screeched as the boat hit shallow water and rocks. It came out of the water doing over twenty knots and smashed the thing into mush. Gray slime went flying.
So did I. I sailed over the windshield and landed in my front yard. I heard my wrist crack on impact. The pain felt like getting hit with a hammer. Other things might have broken but I was already in a world of it. I rolled five yards before I stopped. Everything hurt.
I looked up at Phil and others as they stood over me. “So that’s why there’s no fishing,” I said.
This post was inspired by the phrase “my slimy friend.”