When heroes have to be rescued by heroes

A superheroA true story about two brothers and their idiotic plan to attract girls … 

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

 

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Hissy Fit Frenzy

Bull looking over back fence says Dont Mess With MeWarning: Do not read this post if you want to believe I am a nice controlled Christian woman. Because you will be sorely disappointed. This is the first occasion in my adult life where I have had a crazy uncontrolled hissy-fit frenzy. It may have something to do with “that time” of my life. Or not. Maybe it was just a bad tempered me.

I came home late from work on a Thursday night (about 11.00pm) and as I drove up the drive-way I heard the doof doof doof of VERY loud music. “If that’s my boys, I will wring their bleedin’ necks” I thought. But it wasn’t, there was a party happening over our back fence … on a Thursday night?? When we all have work the next day??

My husband said he’d already told them to turn down the music and they did. For 5 minutes. He said to me “You’ll have to do something about that music”. Me?? That’d be right. They all whinge when my assertive head emerges, yet call on it when the tough stuff has to be done and they don’t want to do it themselves. Yes, the three men of my house turn to the woman when the “big guns” have to come out.

But I refused. They could deal with it … for once.   They didn’t.

When I was in bed at around midnight, something happened to my little tired annoyed brain. Doof doof doof. It was getting louder! My eyes snapped open, staring at the darkened ceiling. I felt my arm lift up of its own accord and it slowly pulled the doona back. I arose; like a sleeping vampire that had finally tasted its first sip of blood and felt life pulsing through its system – and it was about to be let loose.   I put my glasses on. I put my slippers on. And walked to my back door. I opened it, and left it opened. Like a sleepwalker I moved towards the back fence. I climbed as high as I could. I scanned the crowd of nicely dressed young adults. Nobody had seen me. Yet.

I breathed in deeply and inflated my lungs to maximum capacity, then bellowed like a roaring hormonal beastie … “EXCUUUUUSE MEEEE!”  Doof doof.   I said it again. And again! Finally, the crowd of gaping young people had noticed the big woman towering over the back fence, bed-hair-bun piled crookedly and sliding down her head like a mammoth testicle (I haven’t perfected the messy bun look), in her billowing baby blue floral pyjamas, with the bright orange ear plug sticking out of one ear. I was glad about their shocked expressions. I had their utmost attention now, didn’t I? I should have realised that the two long loose escaped tendrils of my curls were not the only things that seemed to be swinging over the back fence. But I didn’t.

I pointed at two girls “YOU TWO, TURN THAT MUSIC OFF!” They didn’t move. “NOOOOOWWWWW!” They ran for their lives. The music stopped. I pointed to another “YOU! GO AND TELL THE OWNER OF THE HOUSE TO COME HERE – NOW!” I found I couldn’t stop. I seriously couldn’t stop. They were all looking at me. “WE HAVE TO GET UP AT 5AM IN THE MORNING. DID YOU HEAR MEEEE?? 5. BLOODY. O’CLOCK!” Yep, I lost it big time and even swore; much to my shame. I think I said a couple more sentences along the same lines, but I can’t even remember now. Two young men suddenly ran towards me with their arms reaching up.

They were jumping up and down with their hands extended towards me, telling me to calm down, it would be alright, and the music would stop now. As I was screeching at them like a crazed banshee I must have been trying to get closer to them; and these two heroic young men ran to stop me toppling into their garden bed. That would not have been a good sight for the young man on his 21st birthday. The old lady (compared to their age), with her head buried in their garden bed, with floral clad blue legs kicking in the air.   {Shudder}

A sense of peace then enveloped me. I calmly said “Thank you”. And like a retreating meerkat, my head descended, never to be seen again.

I now have to live with the shock (and terrible embarrassment and guilt) about what made me act like that. I’m supposed to be a Christian. Can people really go “crazy” and act out of character? Or is it our real character that breaks out because we can’t control it in a moment of weakness and vulnerability? I just don’t know.

Being a Christian now means I will need to make this right, somehow. An apology is in order, me thinks. Damn it.
©2015 CEW