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Grumpy Vacation, Part 2 [WL2019]

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posted on Sep, 15 2019 @ 06:42 PM
Grumpy Vacation, Part 1

More ATS shorts.

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was my dry mouth - dehydration was setting in. It was going to be a problem.

The dysphagia normally only affected my ability to take food. And though its severity fluctuated, I've never been capable of eating all that much, which was a double-edged sword: keeping a trim figure was easy, but putting on muscle was a perennial issue. I learned to work with it.

But in full-summer heat at Tahoe's elevation, dehydration would become a medical emergency if I couldn't take water. I got up and went to the shower; while washing, I tried for a swig of the hard motel water with the same resulting coughing fit as at dinner the night before. After settling down, I experimented and discovered I could pass sips of water - perhaps a quarter teaspoons' worth, perhaps equivalent to a typical volume of saliva. Any more than that caused a fit of coughing, spluttering, choking.

It was better than nothing. 'As long as I can take a sip of water, I'll be fine,' I thought.

The fan in the bathroom provided poor ventilation; steam lingered after I turned off the shower and the mirror remained fogged over. Exiting the bathroom into the main area of the room, I was greeted by studied vanilla talking head blather on the Weather Channel, which the wife had turned on after she and the daughter had woken up and started rummaging around in the kitchenette. They were in their pajamas and robes and the wife was spreading jam across gluten-free toast.

"Baby, I hope you don't mind, but I rifled through your wallet so I could get all the cash together and budget the remainder of the week...but I didn't find much. Where's the rest?"

A weatherwoman on the television reported thunderstorms in the northeast and the fingernails of both my hands dug into their respective palms; my lips pursed slightly.

There *really* wasn't a lot of money. She didn't know.

"Squirreled away safely in my suitcase," I lied. "If you didn't find it I guess my hiding spot worked..."

Her puzzled expression broke into a smile, "Always thinking one step ahead..." She resumed jamming gluten-free toast. Blackberry.

My chest heaved up and down in relief as I took what felt like my first breath in thirty seconds. I didn't have enough opportunity to exit the room before she continued: "I feel better now. I was like, 'How are we supposed to last three more days and get home on less than a hundred and fifty dollars?'…"

(I do lots of stupid things, e.g., buy bad, expensive dinners; give big, undeserved tips to bad waiters; accept "free" vacations. Frequently, this results in lost track of cash balances.)

There was gasoline, food, and activities - the most inexpensive I could conceivably find in tourist country still surely more than back home. Furthermore, one must remember the expense built-in to even nominally "free" activities; e.g., the parking fee at the trailhead; the price-gouged bag of organic trailmix for the hike itself; the overpriced first-aid foam to treat the minor blisters afterward.

"…but anyways," the wife continued, "I forgot to pack sunscreen. I noticed a 7-11 down the street on the way back from Zephyr Cove last night. I'll go there to buy sunscreen before we head out for the day."

"I'm already showered. I'll go," I offered.

"That works too." She lowered the second pair of gluten-free bread slices into the bowels of the toaster and glanced at the television. "Speaking of heading out for the day, sounds like it's going to be *hot*. What should we do?"

The daughter leapt into action. "SWIMMING!" she interjected, her mouth full of masticated toast and jam. "LAKE! LAKE! SWIMMING!"

"Complete sentences, sweetie," the wife said sternly.

I couldn't not snicker. "Are you trying to be funny?" I asked, stifling derision.

"What?" she replied.

"Nevermind." The irony of the wife committing the exact grammatical misuse she scolded the girl for. I've erred similarly, certainly? Nevermind that now nevermind that now nevermind that now. Focus. A lakeshore beach is probably one of the cheaper activity options; opting for it this early in the vacation would be like taking 'chance' on one's first turn in a round of Yahtzee, but afterall, that the daughter suggested it reduces the probability of problematic volatility from e.g., "boredom", i.e., wanting to do something else entirely…something likely involving either ice cream or "prize tickets", *plus it is* going to be a hot day: it's the natural order of things that people go swimming on a sweltering summer day AND nobody will suspect that inept planning was the reason we're not going to Six Flags or Hershey Park or Hollywood Squares or whatever goddamn thing…

"What…daddy?" the daughter said, making squinty eyes and wrinkling her nose.

Christ. How much of that did I say out loud?

The wife looked at me in a (mostly) mock-serious expression. "Aaaaare you feeling okay?"

I produced convincing laughter to dismiss the growing discomfort in the room. "Just making sure you're both listening."

Again, the wife's puzzlement broke into a smile and a light chuckle. Her eyes brightened and softened when she smiled. "Well. It *worked*."

After forcing myself to take a couple sips of water - a chore that by then I had generally come to regard with antipathy - I shoed myself. Having made myself shod, I put one of the keycards in my pocket and left on foot to buy the sunscreen.
edit on 15/9/2019 by DictionaryOfExcuses because: (no reason given)

posted on Sep, 15 2019 @ 07:04 PM
It *was* going to be a hot day. It was still early enough that there was a light dew, but it seemed to sizzle away by the moment as the sun climbed higher, beaming down through anorexic high sierra pines.

I arrived at the 7-11. My feet crunched on road grit and broken bottleglass as I crossed the parking lot to the front entrance. As I reached out to open the door, a *California Lottery Lucky Retailer* decal in the window caught my eye. A bell rang as I crossed the threshold.

The clerk was a short, balding, well-fed man of indistinct Asian descent. He wore glasses with Cokebottle lenses and his eyes looked buggy through them as he looked up to greet me. He resumed tapping red-and-white cans of soup with a cheap pen, jotting final tallies on a sheet on his clipboard, and I located toiletries and sundries hanging on pegs and sitting in dusty shelf bins in a small section on the rear wall of the store.

Didn't need Trojan.

Didn't need Vicks.

Vaseline, Chapstick, Selsun Blue. No, no, no.

Didn't need Preparation H at that particular moment.

Eureka! Banana Boat. I picked up a tube and turned for the cash register. I felt a pang of thirst as I passed by the cooler with colorful bottles of cold Gatorade and pop. So close, yet so far away.

The clerk was behind the counter by the time I arrived. "Hi," I said, setting the tube of sunscreen on the counter, which had one of those windows through which scratch-off lottery tickets are displayed.

The clerk lifted the sunscreen close to his eyes to examine it. "Aaaaah. Solah prohtection. Belee, belee smaht," he said. I faked a conciliatory smile as he proceeded scanning the barcode, then averted my gaze back down to the scratcher tickets: bingo scratchers, blackjack scratchers, even slot machine scratchers.

My family's financial need was fresh on my mind. Perhaps I fell prey to the marketing of the "Lucky Retailer" decal on the front door and a streak of plain old wishful thinking got the best of me.

There I was. South Lake Tahoe, California.

There I was. Spitting distance from the Nevada stateline at Stateline, Nevada.

There I was - at the doorstep of the land of slot machines, poker tables, roulette wheels - with the sudden itch to play the scratchers?

The rest of the world seemed to darken away, and suddenly I was behind the wheel speeding down a narrow and twisting road through the blackest hour of night, fleeing from a monster that dines only on the headlamp-light of the damned, a monster closing in…closing in, but wait just within the horizon of my headlamp light: scratchers. Scratchers growing near, nearer, full of promise. Beautiful scratchers, reflecting the light of my headlamps with their glittery print. I'm getting closer…closer…closer…

I pointed into the ticket case. "I'll take six Crossword Prospectors." They were twenty dollar tickets.

The clerk cocked an eyebrow. "A man who know when to pray safe…" he said, first gesturing to the sunscreen, then to the lottery display "…and when to just pray. Behhhhhlee guud." He tore the tickets from the stack and totaled the transaction. I thrusted nearly the remainder of the cash across the counter. The change was an odd mix of bills and coins; I pocketed all of it except for a penny, collected the tube of sunscreen and lottery tickets, and left the store.

I sat down on the curb, which was starting to feel warm itself. I had the strange sensation I was being watched, and turned to look toward the end of the building. Indeed, there was someone looking at me, and even through his crooked Ray-Ban aviators I could see that his eyes were squinted almost completely shut. Only his head protuded around the corner of the building; he wore a brown fedora crammed over browner hair, and had a bushy but vaguely odd-looking beard.

As soon as I noticed him, he smiled an odd, embarrassing smile - like a kindergartener faking a big smile for class pictures.

It was like watching myself smile.

His eyes then opened as wide as possible and his head jerked out of view. I watched, waiting for him to reemerge, for several moments.

Satisfied that the stranger was gone, and with penny still in hand, I began the ticket scratching, making sure to remove *completely, thoroughly, remove* the scratch-off ticket coating to each corner and edge because nobody, nothing, not even this wax-like filth, will obscure my fortune, obfuscate, agitate, agitate, agitating - yes, like the voice - nevermind that now nevermind that now nevermind that now the voice is gone first revealing my letters, then matching them up with words on the grid the voice isn't coming back ever not ever again until finally I had scratched all my letters off the grids on all six tickets and left each one completely clean; I composed myself.

A(n identical) list in the margin of the tickets showed the number of revealed words corresponding to its cash prize.

I counted up the number of revealed words, referring to the list in the margin. The first ticket was a loser. The second ticket paid for itself. The third and fourth were losers. The fifth ticket was a thousand dollar winner.

The fifth ticket was a thousand dollar winner.
edit on 15/9/2019 by DictionaryOfExcuses because: (no reason given)

posted on Sep, 16 2019 @ 07:11 AM
Well done ... My luck I would have been walking the parking lot looking for a quarter (25 cents) and trying to figure out what I was going to tell the wife !!

posted on Sep, 16 2019 @ 08:09 AM
That was an entertaining read, but the winning dollar amount, I am sure, is not enough to rid your main character of his grumpiness.

posted on Sep, 16 2019 @ 09:31 AM
a reply to: InTheLight

You sir/miss are exactly correct!

posted on Sep, 16 2019 @ 11:05 AM
Didn't dare comment last night, I was waiting for the next

I remember reading this last month and this was a very good continuation, I can imagine a number of different ways it can go.

...and is it weird that I see Will Wheaton playing this guy?

posted on Sep, 16 2019 @ 11:14 AM
a reply to: Argen

Thanks Argen. I wrote the 1st part over a year ago and it took me a bit longer to come to the this story than I intended. I have three other big storytelling projects, and am very distractable to begin with. Will be knuckling down on this and completing it sooner.

Will Wheaton of Stand By Me and, much later, Star Trek TNG? That's a cool thought...I always liked his acting.

posted on Sep, 16 2019 @ 10:48 PM
I enjoyed your story.

posted on Sep, 17 2019 @ 01:03 AM
Ohh: zactly the same feeling as Argen; read it, loved it, but was waiting for the other shoe to drop, ... or not... LoL !

Love your writing style.

Can't wait for the suite, to find out if you saw a guy on a boat, when you were at the beach.

posted on Sep, 18 2019 @ 06:30 AM
a reply to: DictionaryOfExcuses

sf cool story bro

posted on Sep, 24 2019 @ 12:17 PM
a reply to: DictionaryOfExcuses

You said You didn't want Your Score Tallied, BUT I gave You a Star and Flag anyway, because this was a Good Read!
Nicely Done!!

edit on 24-9-2019 by SyxPak because: (no reason given)

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