A Heated Event

by Mike Mayak

NOTE: The draws for the September 2023 Flash Fiction Draw Challenge were; A Comedy, set at A Swim Meet, involving an Empty Box. Here’s what I came up with.—–mike

The trouble was, Joey Bianchi was just as good as he said he was. And he told everybody that too. He was damn good in the water and won most of the events at the State Collegiate Invitational Swim Meet the College held my Junior Year. Joey had a tanned, toned body, “built like a torpedo with biceps” my buddy ‘Berto had said over coffee. Yeah, Joey had the tan, perfect teeth, wavy dark hair and deep green eyes.

The girls noticed him and I’m sure even the straight guys checked him out. My friends and I weren’t all straight and we all liked looking at him. But we didn’t like listening to him. His every word was about how good a swimmer Joey was, how good Joey was with the ladies, how good-looking Joey was. You get the idea.

The day’s events were over and a group of us guys (including Joey) were standing around the University pool shooting the breeze. It was my job to lock up but Joey wasn’t going anywhere; he was bragging about how good he’d done at the first day of the meet and how good he was in general.

“Y’know, nobody’s that good,” said the voice with a slight Oklahoma drawl.

Joey swiveled around with that curled lip Elvis sneer he did and stared at the speaker. He was a kid who barely looked eighteen, but he had on a lanyard with an I. D. on it so I guessed he was. Pale, short blonde hair, built like a high school soccer player wearing swim trunks and a “STATE” t-shirt. He couldn’t have been more than five foot nine.

“You know who I am?” Joey asked. “Who my Father is?”

“Yeah,” the kid said. “Your Dad is that superhero with the Crisis Squad, Mister Ocean.” The kid grinned. “You’re Joey Bigmouth.”

The rest of us were snickering as Joey glowered. Yes, people called him that. Usually not to his face.

“Who the hell are you?” Joey demanded, bending down to get nose to nose with him.

I’ll give this to the kid, he didn’t so much as flinch.

“I’m Si Asphalios,” he said. “They don’t let Freshmen compete but how ‘bout we go for a race across the pool right now?”

Joey glared. “Long way,” he said. Si nodded.

“I’ll leave you behind in my wake,” Joey said. He didn’t like being challenged.

“Hold on a sec,” Si said. “What’ll we play for?”

Gambling was against the College rules but I saw Joey’s eyes dart across the pool.

“Tell ya what, Phallus…” Joey said.

“Asphalios,” Si muttered.

“How ‘bout we play for these?” Joey tugged at the elastic waistband of his swim trunks. “Winner gets both pairs. Loser has to make it back to his car,” he glared at Si “or tricycle, au naturale.”
It figured that was the only French Joey knew.

“Deal,” Si said. They didn’t shake hands. Joey pointed at a corner across the pool.

“Go grab that box, Kauffman,” Joey said to me. “We’ll keep the trunks in there so you can hold on to them and give ‘em back to the winner.” As I jogged over to get the box I wondered what I disliked more; Joey taking charge or the way I fell into it. But I was kind of the Junior-In-Charge and so I figured I’d be the responsible one. I brought back the cardboard box which wasn’t that big and may have had the plastic flags they used in it earlier. Empty now.

The two competitors shucked off their trunks and tossed them in the box, trying not to look at them. Si pulled off his shirt and tossed it in too. I tried not to look at Joey.

It was over fast.

I yelled “One-Two-Three-GO!” Both Joey and Si dove into the water. As usual, Joey was sheer poetry, a muscled dynamo leaving a magnificent wake on the surface of the pool. But Si darted underwater moving as fast as a fish I’d seen in the shallows of the lake one summer. Si darted underwater to the other end of the pool and then back to his starting point before Joey even made it to the middle of the pool.

We were all standing there, all but falling over laughing when Si hopped out of the pool, walked over to me, hand extended and calmly said “Trunks, please. Both pair.”

I happily handed Si his and Joey’s trunks and Si’s shirt. He had them on by the time Joey stormed back to our side of the pool and clamored out of the water.

Joey glared at Si. “Gimmie my damn trunks!” Joey growled. Before he could reach him, Si tossed Joey’s trunks to ‘Berto who grinned and ran out the door waving the trunks in the air like a flag, pursued by the angry Joey.

We were all laughing again and I shook Si’s hand and offered to buy him a beer.

“Thanks, but I only drink water,” Si said.

“Oh, and I’m Mark,” I said. “Mark Kauffman.”

“Si Asphalios,” he said. “I’m named after my dad.” He grinned again. “Si is short for Poseidon.”

—end–

Dedication: For L. Sprague De Camp, who used a similar setting, but there’s nothing in the rules about re-using a set! —-mike