There’s nothing more exciting than a group of pontoon’s racing on the open ocean.
“But we’re on a lake. And pontoons aren’t really known for being fast,” Simon said, taking a swig of his Natural Light.
“Ay, Mick,” Big Jim bellowed, his double chin jiggling with each syllable.
“Ain’t we faster than a flock of road runners when we get to going?”
Mick was laying down on his deck, his robust belly blocking his head from view. He sat up, and his pudge rolled over his belt and fell between his legs. He pats around on the deck for his beer can until he found it, taking a long gulp and scratching the hair on his stomach before responding.
“Yeah,” he started, his raspy voice grating Simon’s ears. “But I still need to get a good base before heading down to Mexico.”
“Mick, now you and everyone with eyes know that there ain’t no woman in this universe that wants to see all that.”
They all laughed, and Mick rolled over to push off from his deck. He bent back down to pick up his beer, exposing his crack to the group before waddling off his pontoon and onto the pier.
“Kiss my keester. I’m darn sexy. Woman love a good cuddle with all this,” Mick said, rubbing his fat.
“As cuddly as a crooked board full o’ nails,” Simon said.
“Whatever.” Mick took another swig of beer, and the rest of the group did the same. “I bet you a whole case of Busch that my sweet baby could beat your hunk of junk on any day.”
Big Jim looked around the pier for a moment before pointing to another pontoon a few docks down. The group walked over, chugging the rest of their beer, crushing up the cans and tossing them into the water.
“Kind sir,” Big Jim started, and the guy taking the rope off his pontoon’s deck cleat looked up. “Me and my boys here thinkin’ of a quick pontoon race. Three’s not enough for a good race, so whaddya say you join us to make it four?”
The guy looked between the three friends. “What’s first place get?”
“Case o’ Busch.”
The guy thought for a moment. “Make it Natty Light, and you’re all on.”
Big Jim roared with laughter. “Guy knows a good beer. Let’s do this!”
The newcomer identified himself as Ramone, and he was more than happy to ferry the three friends back to their boats in his pontoon. The group decided winner would be able to choose between the case of Busch or Natural Light, and the two cases were set on the pier. The three friends hopped into their separate pontoons, and all four pulled their boats into a starting line.
“Hows about we drag it out to that weather buoy, and back. First one to reach the dock without crashing gets the beer?”
“And Go!” Simon yelled, activating the propeller on his pontoon and sending the front up a little.
The other boats did the same, and four boats picked up speed. They left wide white foam wakes as they went. It was a beautiful summer day with clear skies dappled with only a few fluffy white clouds.
Simon held the lead, trailed by Mick, Ramone, and Big Jim. The weather buoy finally came after what felt like forever to the racers, and Simon braked, spinning his wheel hard to the right. The brake was too hard for the speed he was traveling, and the front of the deck dipped into the water. As he turned, he popped back out and rocked a little bit, finally coming about and pushing it full throttle again as the others reached the buoy.
“You cheat, you cheat!” Mick yelled, braking just as hard and pushing the front of his boat into the water.
Alcohol’s influence combined with his weight and he tumbled forward, banging into the metal gate on the deck with a bang. Ramone braked a little lighter and turned faster than Simon had, heading after him as Big Jim made the turn slowest of all.
Mick’s front end stayed submerged from his weight, and the gate latch opened, sending him belly flopping into the water like a cresting whale. He splashed, and the boat finally popped back out the water. He grabbed the side and yelled a slew of curses at the other racers.
Ramone pulled up next to Simon, and they went all of 20 miles per hour toward the pier. The two men looked at each other and Simon grabbed an old boot he had sitting on his deck. He threw it at the other guy, but it fell harmlessly into the water.
“Give up now!” Ramone bellowed, pulling a few hairs ahead.
Simon picked up the other boot and chucked it, and it hit Ramone’s right pontoon. Big Jim started catching Simon as well, letting out yeehaws as he gained on the two lead boats.
But the other guy ended up reaching the docks first. He parked his boat and secured the rope before hopping out onto the pier as Simon and Big Jim pulled in to park.
“I think that was enough of a thrashing that I’m going to take both cases,” Ramone said, walking over and picking up the case of Natural Light first and walking it back to his pontoon boat.
Simon and Big Jim hopped onto the pier and watched Ramone claim his prize. He came back and picked up the case of Busch, lugging it back to his boat as well.
“How’s about you toss us one each, and we’ll let you have the rest.” Big Jim said, tapping Simon in the side. “The Busch case was Mick’s anyway, so I’m okay with you yanking it too.”
Ramone agreed and tossed them each a can before hopping on his boat and heading back to his dock. Mick floated over a little later, soggy and upset. His wet hair was stuck to his face and head like greasy vines.
“Hey, where’s the other case,” Mick said, hopping onto the pier. Simon and Big Jim took swigs from their Busch, shrugging their shoulders. “You lames drank all my beer that fast? Gimmee a sip!” Mick said, reaching out to Simon first.
Simon stepped back, and Mick lunged. Simon dodged, and Mick fell on the ground. He got back up and chased Simon as he ran in circles around Big Jim, waddling behind trying to grab the beer.