Two young men (brothers – and NOT my sons!) were on the beach, conspiring about how to attract girls. They came up with a plan; an allegedly brilliant and fool-proof scene they would enact, that would have the young women flocking to them. I will call these brothers M and B.
The plan: B was going to swim out quite far and pretend to get into difficulties. He would call out to his older brother, M, to help him. Both of them would be quite loud to attract the attention of the girls around them, and when they had an audience, M would power-swim out, save his brother and drag him back to shore. Who could resist a real hero? The rest would be history, as they say.
How the scene “actually” played out:
B swam out into the beautiful sparkling azure waters of the bay; and when he thought he was far enough away from the shore, turned and called out to his brother for help. M made a point of calling back and said he would be there soon. When M noticed some of the bikini-clad girls watching, like a superhero’s call to action he puffed out his bronzed Mediterranean chest, jogged into the water and dived into an oncoming wave. Unfortunately, M wasn’t very coordinated. When he saw the wave, he attempted to dive under it (like he envisioned), but instead belly-flopped onto the top of the wave. He began his “power-swim” slightly winded.
As M was free-styling out, he had no idea that his uncoordination meant he didn’t quite “look” the part. Most free-stylers can coordinate their arm strokes and breathing. M couldn’t. So he had to free-style towards B with his head flicking from side to side as he breathed above the water. His mop of pitch-black hair spun from side to side and looked like a long haired dog shaking itself after a drenching. After a few more awkward strokes, M began cursing in his head that his “bloody brother” had swum out too far!
B was watching his brother’s head swivel from side to side, water particles spraying wildly. And his not so graceful freestyle-arms were not gliding through the water at all like they were supposed to, but were now splashing through the water, causing him to look like an uncoordinated imbecile. B was cursing under his breath now, because he was getting bloomin’ well tired of treading water. How much longer would he have to wait for his idiot brother to get there?
M exhausted himself before he got to his brother. He was only at the half way point when he realised he was starting to take mouthfuls of water in; and as much as his short Maltese legs were kicking at a hundred miles an hour under the water like duck’s paddles, he seemed NOT to be getting closer to B.
B was in real difficulty now too. Bloody M wasn’t going to make it at all!
The girls on the shore were now pointing at them both and yelling something as the crisis began to unfold.
Luckily for the brothers, there were “real” life guards on the shore. Within minutes, both M and B were rescued by the real heroes, and as they say, the rest is history.
© 2015 CEW
Originally posted on my old blog site