1.e4 e5 2.Ke2
"Good God, the stink!" Big Mac moves his king to e2, then swipes at befouled air with his overgrown paws, knocking his cigar askew. "Christ Almighty! What kinda mule piss cologne you wearing today, Johnny?"
Normally grogged to placidity, Rasputin Johny lets out a faint gasp, then something of a laugh. Turning his heavy girth away from the board, Mac uncaps a San Miguel bottle. "Lazy turd eater."
For the first time, Rasputin Johnny raises his eyeline from the board, then deadpans a saint's cross. I point past Mac's massive bulk towards him. "In the name of the Lord, he forgives you."
"In the name of the Lord, he can eat my shit." Big Mac places the San Miguels on the bar, then leers. "Playing Johnny's like being bad bishopped by a swarm of green horse flies laying maggots on a mound of steaming feces in an Arkansas whorehouse. Cash or credit?"
"Uh, let's try credit."
A subtle chin wag. "Ready for the magnificent disaster?"
"Huh?" What? Like my card being declined?"
"The storm. Ya' now, the one that's coming at us like a wind bomb."
"Oh! Uh, I was born ready."
"Straight from the devil's rectum." Big Mac wipes his wet brow with the back of his hand. "Damn humidity's killing me."
I breathlessly stare as Mac runs my credit card through the point-of-sale machine. Here's to no surprises. "Everything okay?"
He rips off the receipt, wraps it around my card, and hands it back to me. "Yep."
"Really?" Thank the motherloving God.
Mac briefly dips his head and lowers his sunglasses, revealing big cow eyes piercing through me, scrutinizing. "What's the matter?"
Clear my throat. "Nothing. I mean, uh, … cool. I've got--"
"Little advice, Charity. Stay young 'cuz growing old sucks."
"Ah, I bet you're still strong as an ox." I take a draught of beer.
Old Big Mac rubs his head and trains his inscrutable, mirrored Ray-Bans towards the breaking waves. The sides of his toupee blow in the wind like stubby, sickle-shaped antlers. "When I was a young buck, I swore I'd conquer the world. But now …" A deep cigar puff. "... I've outlived all my delusions. It's time to die."
I try a friendly attention-getting wave in front of his face, but his brain's locked into some weird bummer feedback loop. I take my leave, stealing glances at him in solitary, immovable contemplation.
Back at the patio table, Traci sits with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner of weight loss war in front of a huge salad bowl. Carrie Lee fidgets in her chair with a large banana lumpia with caramel and strawberry ice cream on her placemat. Traci pulls out her iPhone and frames Carrie Lee posing with her food and drink. "Cheeky gumboots."
"Cheeky gumboots." Carrie Lee smiles, then a stern, baleful stare at her plate. "You're shit. Pure strawberry-banana smothered in caramel shit. There."
I take my perch at the end of the table. "Has he been like that all morning?"
Traci winces at the bait ball of nutritious green kelp wrapped around her plastic fork. "Yeah, what's gotten into everybody?" She forces it down and gags. "Uh. Tastes like worms."
"Ooh, yuck. Did you swallow?" Carrie Lee takes a big bite of billowing whipped cream. "This weather's givin' everybody the heaheas. Big Mac's packin' a sad. Jon's skulking 'bout like a fart from a beast of burden's ass."
"Very sus." Traci shakes her head and clucks.
"Very. Nathan and Anna are AWOL. Even Sexy Tony flaked out on Trace's kiteboarding lessons."
Traci gazes upwards, as if in prayer. "Sexy Tony."
Carrie Lee's lips form a big, lecherous smile while batting her eyelashes. "Sexy Tony. Livin' the skux life."
"You mean Hurl?"
Both. "Sexy Tony!"
"Plus I hear there's a bunch of foodie poisonings going around." Carrie Lee's eyes grow wide as the words trail off.
Before Carrie Lee can manage another bite, Traci jabs with her spork, snagging a piece of banana lumpia for herself. "Wowzers. Quite the cheeky hungus today, eh."
"Hard out. Mmmm. Tastes like diabetes." Traci's giggle reveals deep dimples. "Piss on the diet, eh?"
"Piss on the diet. Now keep that long, stabby thing to yourself, eh."
"Yeah, nah. We're not waitin' for the No Fun Club. Got up at the butt-crack of dawn and escaped on the first banank out for a tiki tramp around Panay."
Carrie Lee picks out the cherry garnish off her strawberry daiquiri, then sucks it between her lips. "Beats the brakes off hangin' on the beach with the hordes of piss-drunk backpackers trying to sexy us twenty-four-seven."
"From the first step out of the hotel, we're practically under attack." Traci huffs, then peers down at her bustline. "Don't ever grow nice tits, Dougie."
"Trying not to."
She swipes another illicit cake bite. "Panay's the wop wops. Open-air markets with fresh fish and oxtail Stew. Hoofing it round the jungle where Carrie Bearie fell in love with the cutest caribou." Traci stifles a giggle. "Until ..."
"Never trust a cow. They fart without mercy."
"Oh, and then the outdoor spa, eh."
"Our guide cooked us up in giant bath pots, like we were on some headhunter's menu. Here's to bloody great times, eh, Trace."
They raise their drinks in a toast. "Bloody great times. Eh!"
CLINK.