The Big Break (short story)

Edgar woke and leaned over to pull up the blanket that had been kicked down while sleeping. Judging from the chilly temperature inside the room, he could only assume it was going to be another frigid day. The sliver of morning sun pierced brightly through a horizontal rip in the pull down shade covering his bedroom window. A faint chorus of songbirds could be heard outside accompanied by the garbled, but much louder, sounds of a Spanish conversation taking place in the adjacent room. He lay there for a moment listening, as the mixture of indecipherable voices gave way to lively Latin music laced with energetic beats peppering the wall. There was no point in trying to tackle more sleep. Edgar rolled out of bed and threw on his sea green terrycloth robe and grabbed a beanie off the nightstand for his morning hair. He walked over to the closet and slipped his left foot into a flip-flop, turned and scanned the room for the other one. After chalking it up as a lost cause, he removed the flip-flop and opted for a pair of dirty old running shoes instead. "Shit!" he exclaimed as his left foot squished into a cold wet interior. He noticed an overturned cup lying on the floor next to it and grumbled. There was a knock at his door, "It's not locked!" Edgar said loudly. The door swung open fast and banged into the nightstand, causing a lamp to fall over and crash to the floor. Jennifer stood in the doorway and looked down at the busted lamp and broken light bulb scattered on the floor. "You got to be joking! I'm so sorry," Jennifer remarked. "No, no, it's fine. Really, the lamp had it coming," Edgar replied. "If you say so. I'm pretty sure I have an old lamp in my closet you can have. I'll go check. Oh, hey, I'm making peanut butter and banana sandwiches downstairs. Do you want one?" "Hot damn, yes. Two of 'em." The mariachi music blasting from Sergio's room filled the hallway behind them as they heard his voice cheering enthusiastically along with the trumpets. Jennifer leaned and peered down the hall. "What the heck is he doing in there?" "Jen, I think he's making love to Mexico." "Is he even... Mexican?" Jen asked. "No, no he is not. I believe our dear friend is half Portuguese and half Indian, and one hell of a sculptor. Have you seen his latest?" Edgar remarked. "Yes, I told him it looked like a sturgeon fish walking on spider legs and he got pissy with me. Hey, don't walk through that glass, okay? I'll bring up a dustpan and clean it up as soon as I finish with the sandwiches." Jennifer retreated downstairs and Edgar made his way over to Sergio's room. The door was partially open, but he knocked anyway before entering. "Knock, knock.." "Edvar! Come in, come in... I make great shape, no?" Sergio exclaimed. He was standing in front of his sculpture atop a wooden crate. His left hand held a detailing spatula, his right.. a cigarette and a beer. He was barefoot and shirtless, but had on a pair of heavily stained cargo pants. On the far end of the room a TV was blaring. It was a Mexican game show of sorts, with a heavy mixture of contestants talking and singing along to intermittent music. The camera then panned and zoomed in on a gorgeous girl in a short skirt holding a bowling ball. Her ass was all over the place and the crowd was going wild. "Edvar look! She now will roll ball!" The girl casually walked up to the foul line, bent over for a tight camera shot, and released the bowling ball down the lane. "Edvar, it's Mini Skirt Bowling on TV! You like very much, no?" Sergio let out a yelp as he turned his attention back to the neck area of his 7' sculpture. He was working some metal petals into the clay, twisting and pushing until just right. Jen was right, it did resemble an upright fish with hairy legs. It was far from finished, but Edgar could already read the beauty of its lines and symmetry and sense the veneration it would draw upon completion. "It's beautiful, Serge." "These girls make pretty strikes!" "I meant your sculpture." Sergio turned back to Edgar, "Yes, yes, my friend.. is nice going. Say, Edvar, why you have flop-flip on one foot and walking shoe on the other?" "It's a daring stab at an early morning fashion statement, Serge" Edgar replied. "Not everyone can bowl cheeky strikes this early in the A.M." Edgar said goodbye and left Sergio to it. Downstairs the house was filled with the smell of peanut butter and the singing voice of a girl who's words could be understood. Jennifer loved to sing, it was her passion, and the House Of Muse was fortunate to be filled by the beauty of her voice on many given days. Edgar pulled up a chair and seated himself at the island and listened to her sing. She flattened several banana halves between peanut buttered toast and slid a sandwich at him. She raised hers, said cheers and started eating. Edgar pointed upstairs as he swallowed and spoke, "Mini skirt bowling." "Excuse me?" "That's what we were hearing. He's watching dark-skinned, scantily-clad beauties bowling on a Mexican game show while he decorates Sir Walter Sturgeon." Jennifer leaned back against the sink, "You boys, I swear." Edgar laughed, "Yeah, when men get together and create a TV show the result is a mash-up between naked chicks and sports. When women get together we end up with The View. That's a push, if you ask me." He finished his sandwich, stood up and thanked her, and in doing so knocked the plate off the island and onto the floor where it crashed into pieces. "Did you do that on purpose?" she asked while walking around the island. "Hmm?" Looking down at his feet he replied, "Oh, no... my right flip-flop went missing and my left sneaker got soaked by an off-balanced beverage, hence my mismatched morning." "No, I mean did you just break my plate because I broke your lamp?" "Don't be silly, Jen, I loved that plate. It was coincidental breakage, I assure you. Listen, they're going to dynamite that beached whale at Cannon Beach today at 10:30, want to go watch?" Jennifer knelt down and began scooping the pieces of broken plate onto a cardboard flap. Without looking up she replied, "Em called the house phone last night, said you weren't answering your cell. You were already asleep. She asked about the whale too. Looks like we're all going together, maybe even Ben, I'll ask him." She stood up and dumped the pieces into the trash. Edgar turned with a grin and said, "fantastic" and headed back upstairs to get ready. They arrived at Em's apartment around 8:30 and found a note taped to the front door. Edgar walked back to the car and climbed into the rear seat. He held up the note and said, "Em isn't coming with us". "Is that what the notes says?" Jen asked. "No, that's what I say. The note just says: Edgar, I've decided to move to Arizona. I'll be living on the north rim of the Grand Canyon with a friend there. Waking up everyday in view of a magnificent ditch should help put things into perspective for me. Life IS weird... Em". Edgar stuffed the note into his pocket and stared at the white apartment door as the car began to pull away. As the door grew smaller, so did the memories of all the times they had spent together. All the drinking and laughing and shooting pool. All the poems and stories they created, all the jokes made at other peoples' expense. Yeah, it was a magical moment that could never be recreated, he knew that much for sure. Sadness over the loss of someone special wasn't an area of expertise for Edgar, so he sat in silence for most of the trip while Jen drove and Ben rode shotgun next to her. They sang songs that were obvious "pick-me-ups" chosen for the melancholy mood behind them. Edgar looked out the window and imagined Em standing at the edge of a two billion year old canyon, her hair whipping in the wind, her mind soaring like a falcon a mile above the Colorado River below. Jen slowed the car as they entered the town of Cannon Beach and came to a stop at a red light. Up ahead a large pick-up truck waited in line too, its driver a bit more impatient than Jen though. The engine of the lifted Ford F-250 revved aggressively and the truck swayed back & forth, giving the impression that the machined beast was alive with fury. When the light turned green the driver of the truck mashed the accelerator and a large plume of black carbon smoke blanketed the sidewalk next to it. "What the fuck, that guy is a huge asshole!" Jen exclaimed in anger. As they continued forward with traffic they watched the man driving the pick-up slow down every time he saw a pedestrian walking near the road, and as soon as his tailpipe was about even with them he'd stomp the gas and cover them in an expelled cloud of smoke. They were just reaching their turn off when the man in the pick-up did it again, this time to a woman holding hands with her young daughter. "The possibility has crossed my mind that this guy might be the biggest douchebag on planet earth," Edgar cursed. "Forget him, let's go watch a whale explode." And at that, they all agreed and continued across town. They arrived at the stretch of shoreline where the whale beached itself and slowly made their way past a row of parked cars toward a cop who was directing traffic. The officer motioned them to a nearby parking lot that still had available spots while waving the next car forward. After parking, Jen, Ben and Edgar climbed out of their car and glanced around at all the other vehicles. "Hot damn!" Edgar said as he stretched from side to side. "I can't believe how many people are here for this. I bet if they were using any other means of disposal, other than dynamite, the turn-out would be significantly less. Americans love to watch shit go BOOM." "True," Ben said as he grabbed the blanket and binoculars from the back seat. Jen had her phone out and was replying to missed text messages while she waited for the boys to grab the rest of their stuff. "Alright, we're good to go. Do I hold up on the handle when locking the door?" Edgar asked Jen. She told him no, lifted her purse from the ground, and the three of them began walking toward the beach. The smell of ocean salt invaded their noses as they navigated through the maze of parked cars. All around them, families were unloading folded tables and chairs as kids ran wildly after each other screaming. It was an energetic moment, and the excitement of so many people gathered in one place could be felt sibilating across ones skin. They continued walking and crossed the main road that had taken them to the parking lot. It crested on the other side and upon reaching the sandy embankment they could at last see the ocean. And there, approximately fifty yards below, rested an enormous grey whale, the curve of it's elongated back glistening against the sky, it's cream colored belly half swallowed by the sand. They made their way a bit closer until the horde of onlookers became too thick to pass. They set their belongings down on the outstretched blanket and settled in for the event. "Would you look at that," Jen exclaimed. "That might be the saddest thing I've ever seen. And the poor whale's eyes are still open!" Edgar nodded in agreement as he peered around at the growing crowd. Off to his right, he noticed some commotion. A man was hissing wildly at another man, waving his arms in threatening gestures, as a woman appeared to be trying to pull him back. The angry exchange of words grew louder as nearby mothers began shielding their children from the uncertainty of the situation. A beer could be seen in the hand of one of the men, and as the incident escalated, alcohol began sloshing out of the can and spilling onto peoples' blankets and belongings. "Unbelievable," Edgar exclaimed, "that's the pickup truck guy from earlier!" Ben and Jen both turned to look, and sure enough, they recognized him immediately. "Go figure, he's the only one here being a dick." The scuffle was stalled by an announcement that echoed from a megaphone down near the whale. "CHARLIE WHITAKER, YOU ARE NEEDED AT THE STICK RIG. CHARLIE, PLEASE REPORT TO THE STICK RIG." A moment of silence and then, "LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, WE WILL BE COMMENCING WITH DETONATION IN APPROXIMATELY 10 MINUTES. I ASK THOSE OF YOU SEATED ON THE LOWER DUNE TO RELOCATE FURTHER UP THE HILL, PLEASE. THOSE OF YOU OVER BY THE JETTY SHOULD KNOW WE'VE DECLARED IT A CHILDREN-FREE AREA, SO IF YOU HAVE KIDS, MOVE 'EM ON UP THE HILL, PLEASE. 10 MINUTES FROM NOW THERE WILL BE A FINAL 60 SECOND WARNING, FOLLOWED BY A COUNTDOWN OF 15 SECONDS. ALRIGHT, ENJOY." After the megaphone screeched off a murmur of excitement could be heard growing amongst the crowd. Edgar took a swig from his water bottle and handed it to Jen. She took it and asked, "Why do you think the whale came ashore?" "Several possibilities," Edgar answered. "Could have expired from sickness, injury, or old age and its body simply washed ashore. Some researchers, though, believe whales can sense the magnetic fields in the earth's crust, and that they navigate the oceans by following the magnetic field lines. Over time, those lines shift and move out in the ocean, and sometimes even intersect with the shore. If a whale happens to be following a magnetic line that has shifted inland, well, the result is this right here." "Yikes," Jen muttered, "maybe whales should use Rand McNally instead." Edgar and Ben both chuckled and looked onward. It was a sunny, cloudless day and the sparkling reflection of the ocean could be seen shimmering on the whale's skin as a group of men performed last minute checks on the explosives that were placed around it. A flock of seagulls circled above, their distant calls creating a chorus of lament for their fallen sea friend. A bird's mourning, though, is about as long as its beak, and once the sand settles and the humans move away, hunger will hastily replace grief. A channel 5 news van was parked nearby, it's telescopic camera pole extended high into the air. The crew stood around doing their own last minute equipment checks while the pretty, blonde-haired reporter practiced her dialogue while crouching and reading into the passenger side mirror. "ONE MINUTE WARNING!" The group of men cleared away from the whale carcass and clambered onto the bed of the stick rig as it's engine fired up and it rolled further down the beach. Ben leaned toward Edgar and said, "I counted twenty cases they loaded onto that truck. If those were the empty dynamite cases, that's an awful lot of boom, brother. We might be in for a real treat." "Whale, I guess we're about to sea what otter happen!" They all laughed as the megaphone began it's fifteen second countdown. "FIFTEEN... FOURTEEN... THIRTEEN..." As the umbers grew smaller the crowd simultaneously grew quiet while many of them placed fingers into their ears. "NINE... EIGHT... SEVEN..." The news crew scrambled to their stations and waited. "FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE..." There was a stillness so silent, not even seagulls sang. Edgar could feel a pressure against his face, like two invisible hands wrapped around his head, holding it steady. The silence was interrupted by a rebel yell somewhere behind him, "Yeeeeeeehaaaaaw!" A child sneezed nearby, and then... the earth lurched and rolled beneath the people occupying it as a deafening explosion rocked the entire hillside, sending people toppling over en masse. The beach erupted into an enormous fountain of sand that blew so high it blotted out the sun. Senses were momentarily altered as up became down, and down became up, and the onlookers had trouble discerning if they had lived through the massive explosion or died instantly. The shock wave that blasted the crowd produced a multitude of terrorized screams from the youngest of them, as families regrouped and sheltered themselves from falling debris. Sand and chunks of blubber that had been jettisoned a half mile into the sky were now raining down on people and parked cars. Edgar had grabbed the blanket they were sitting on and rolled Jen, Ben and himself up inside of it to help protect them from direct hits. The chaotic nature of what just happened began to settle in peoples' minds as the ringing of their ears started to subside and their thoughts were regained from the shock and disbelief. People stood up and looked around, checked themselves and their loved ones. Many were covered in splotches of thick, wet goo that reeked of rotted fish. Sand stuck to them. Where the whale had been was now a large crater, and all around it, the blown out carcass and spinal frame. Much remained, even though much had splattered the shoreline. The seagulls were nowhere to be seen. Car alarms could be heard all along the main road. An ambulance siren could be heard approaching. "Hey, is everyone okay?" Edgar asked. Everyone answered weakly as they began wiping blubber and sand from their bodies. "What the fuck?" said one man. "They used an obscene amount of dynamite," replied Ben as he flicked bloody chunks out of Jen's hair. "That was messed up," said another man. "But also kind of cool," he added. The crowd began to disperse and make their way back to their cars when the megaphone squeaked on: "ANYONE INJURED PLEASE REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE, MEDICS HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED AND WILL ARRIVE SHORTLY. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. WE OVERESTIMATED OUR AMOUNT OF EXPLOSIVES." Edgar, Jen and Ben were already headed back toward the parking lot, their walk devoid of dialogue, when they came upon a row of vehicles battered by chunks of blubber. One of the vehicles was a lifted Ford F-250 pick-up truck; it's roof was completely caved in and all four windows were smashed out. The owner stood next to it, cursing wildly, his body entirely covered in whale fat. Edgar managed a smile as he walked by and thought to himself, "I guess there's a God after-all, and it's name must be Poseidon." THE END.