Jan 26 21
The ATM machine was heavier than expected; it fell back on him the first time he tilted it. He had to kind of shove it to the side and wildly roll out of the way; one of the handles of the hand truck still managed to pinch his left forearm though. Panting on his back, he propped himself up on his elbows feeling the wounded throb and looked out across the bay. The full moon loomed large, pale and repetitive above the black tree line; its disordered squiggling reflection a symbol of weird, incomprehensible causality.
A buzzing came from the front pocket of the pants he had taken from the truck. Reaching in, he first pulled out a pack of cigarettes, then a cell phone. Incoming call, “Scam Likely”. He smiled faintly. He got up and walked over to the boat house and dropped the phone through the mail slot. Then spotting a red 5 gallon gas can, brought it down to the dock placing it and his backpack into the motor boat tied there.
Before re-attempting to move the machine, he pulled out a cigarette, discovering a small plastic baggie. He tapped out a tiny white dune onto the knuckle of his pointer finger and snorted. Then lit a cigarette lauding this rare good fortune, thinking of his kiss with Robert, wondering what it meant to him and whether he would ever see him again.
Blowing out a last mock-glamorous wisp of smoke, he crushed the cigarette under his sneaker and used his new found strength to hobble the ATM unit down to the end of the dock. With a surge he dumped it into the back of the boat. It made a destructive sounding crash on impact. For a moment he stood there shaking his head standing akimbo; revisiting his general lack of good fortune. He climbed over the side and flicked the lighter on looking for damage. Satisfied, he removed the boat key from his bag and keyed up a little more powder. After untying, he started the engine and smoothly backed out into the black water.
He was now flying along at top speed, inside and out. There was no one else in sight; the salt wind rousing. For a moment he almost felt unfettered. Soon though he cut the engine and dropped anchor. Looking over the chrome railing of the bow, the now distant dock looked minuscule, like a microscopic string of Christmas lights lilting in a void.
He removed a roll of black duct tape and three m-80s from his bag. Screaming, using all his remaining power, motivated by the danger of his debt, he managed to get the money machine upright. Propping the gas can against the lock with his stomach he fed the tape to his other hand securing the canister to it. Then taped the three fireworks to the front. Without thinking too deeply he lit the three fuses and crouched behind the steering column and waited.
A buzzing came from the front pocket of the pants he had taken from the truck. Reaching in, he first pulled out a pack of cigarettes, then a cell phone. Incoming call, “Scam Likely”. He smiled faintly. He got up and walked over to the boat house and dropped the phone through the mail slot. Then spotting a red 5 gallon gas can, brought it down to the dock placing it and his backpack into the motor boat tied there.
Before re-attempting to move the machine, he pulled out a cigarette, discovering a small plastic baggie. He tapped out a tiny white dune onto the knuckle of his pointer finger and snorted. Then lit a cigarette lauding this rare good fortune, thinking of his kiss with Robert, wondering what it meant to him and whether he would ever see him again.
Blowing out a last mock-glamorous wisp of smoke, he crushed the cigarette under his sneaker and used his new found strength to hobble the ATM unit down to the end of the dock. With a surge he dumped it into the back of the boat. It made a destructive sounding crash on impact. For a moment he stood there shaking his head standing akimbo; revisiting his general lack of good fortune. He climbed over the side and flicked the lighter on looking for damage. Satisfied, he removed the boat key from his bag and keyed up a little more powder. After untying, he started the engine and smoothly backed out into the black water.
He was now flying along at top speed, inside and out. There was no one else in sight; the salt wind rousing. For a moment he almost felt unfettered. Soon though he cut the engine and dropped anchor. Looking over the chrome railing of the bow, the now distant dock looked minuscule, like a microscopic string of Christmas lights lilting in a void.
He removed a roll of black duct tape and three m-80s from his bag. Screaming, using all his remaining power, motivated by the danger of his debt, he managed to get the money machine upright. Propping the gas can against the lock with his stomach he fed the tape to his other hand securing the canister to it. Then taped the three fireworks to the front. Without thinking too deeply he lit the three fuses and crouched behind the steering column and waited.