Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: THE UGLY TOURIST (07/09/15)
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TITLE: Sloppy Joe | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
07/16/15 -
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“Gag a maggot, Charlie, did you get a load of that guy?” Bert Ogilvie set his googly eyes on the huffing mountain of flesh clutching an oversized beer in each hand. “And look over there, heart attack happening at two o’clock.”
Charlie Haddock glanced up from the sports section he was slurping up. “You’d think we were in France the way she’s not dressed.” He tore his eyes away from the skimpy beach wear and focused on the target of Bert’s derision. “Looks like that guy has been living in a burger bar, all right. Either that, or he’s getting ready for sumo wrestling.”
Bert stood up and sniffed the air. “You smelling what I’m smelling?”
Charlie patiently set down his paper on the glass table top. He tilted his head back and drew in a long breath. “Sun tan lotion, hot dogs, fried onions… and, oh yeah, the ocean. Anything else?”
“Someone’s smoking that funny stuff.” Bert scanned a 360 as he looked for the culprit. “Smells like skunkweed. I can hardly believe they legalize that stuff.”
“I suppose if you see the guy you’d make use of your skeet shooting,” said Charlie. “Maybe take him out.”
“Not a bad idea,” responded Bert. “I don’t take a holiday to have others invading my space.”
“Take a look around,” Charlie said as he picked up his paper again.
“It’s a sardine convention. We’re getting about a foot of sand around us.”
Bert continued his newscast of people watching as Charlie absorbed more stats and stories. The sun blistered down on the fringed umbrella they lounged under. The slight ocean breeze whispered across their snow white hides smeared with sun tan lotion. The empty six pack of cokes lay discarded in the sand near their sandaled feet. It was a day like any other day at the beach.
Perhaps it was Bert’s tilted bright yellow panama hat that kept him from seeing the shadow. Charlie would have sworn something like that on a stack of Gideon’s. For whatever reason Bert’s foot extended at the same nano second an elderly waiter stepped into the shadow of his cabana. The balanced tray of nachos, fries, onion rings and fried shrimp lost its balance. The contents pirouetted like figure skaters and landed helter-skelter in the glistening white sand.
Charlie threw aside his paper and struggled to his feet. The old man was on his knees clutching his wrist and wincing out in pain. “What happened?”
Bert sat back in his chair and pulled his feet under. “Clumsy oaf, doesn’t even watch where he’s walking.”
Charlie stepped forward and then knelt in the sand. “Are you okay?”
“Leave him,” said Bert. “He’s got a mess to clean up. Looks like he should have retired by now.”
The brunette in the French bikini stepped into the cabana shadow. “You, pig! I saw what you did to him. You deliberately stuck out your foot.” She reached down and picked up a fried onion. “That’s my food sitting in the sand.”
Bert reached over and picked up Charlie’s paper. “So, eat it if it’s yours, then go get dressed. Some of us are married around here.”
The young woman threw the fried onion at Bert and walked away. Charlie tried to help the groaning man to his feet.
Another waiter rushed over to assist the elderly man. “Senior Joe, mama mia, so sorry. Scuza, Scuza, Scuza – we will get you some help.”
Bert mocked, “Senior Joe, more like Sloppy Joe. Why are you hiring
delinquents like him anyway?”
“Heez a got three of his girls and five gran’ kids stayin’ wit’ him,” replied the assistant. “Heez workin’ hard ev’ry day. I hope his arm isn’t broke.”
Bert smirked. “Serves him right.” He watched Charlie helping another waiter assist Joe toward the club house. “The old guy should have raised his daughters better. Five grand kids and no fathers. And you should take some English classes.”
“His daughter’s husbands were all marines.” The assistant began to pick up the spilled food. “They all got killed in the war. They’re alone. They need Joe.”
“They need Joe like a hole in the head,” said Bert. “No one needs Joe. Hurry up and clean this up then leave me alone.”
Two minutes later, Charlie returned. When the assistant left, Charlie leaned over to Bert and whispered, “pastor Bert, I hate to tell you this, but that Joe guy actually is the owner here and he wants us to leave.”
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