A gray cat jumped over a small wooden fence. Then we see his hand.
"Grab him Billy!" called Venessa.
On his ankle, higher, more towards his right knee, was the parasailing logo.
Bubba woke up and realized that he had been dreaming. He was in a deep sweat. He rolled out of bed and threw off the red blanket to the floor, unceremoniously. 'Sierra, where are you?' he thought. He wouldn't let that thought go. The phone rang; it was his mother. She was calling to tell him someone had stolen the passport of a person travelling there, a foreigner to Montana. After getting the news, he laughed. Not at the story of the stolen passport, but he remembered something. He thought about the spot where he had gone canoeing, some years ago. An adventure that took him down a river and smashing into the rocks in the white water rapids. He remembered screaming, but no one was around. He was fortunate that day, he thought, managing to carry himself to shore and sprawling out on the hot, tall summer weeds.
Until a door opened, he was reliving that nightmare all over again. "Nassau babe! We are going parasailing! I love you! Love ya!" Sierra comes in out of the dripping rain. "You made it, sweetheart," Bubba replied.
Then he went out on the deck; they both did. There was a light rain, but her shoes and clothes were still wet, so it didn't matter if they got more wet. They were celebrating Nassau, boating, and best of all, parasailing for the first time together. Bubba didn't mind the rain.
The next day, it was a seemingly perfect day for parasailing. They got in the car, and after a 2-hour drive up the shore, they found themselves stuck, dead in a middle of a flood. Later, the locals would laugh at them, saying, "You dumb tourists always want to take the boats out." Bubba and Sierra gave kind of a 'whatever' shrug and laughed back, thinking it was just a little funny. After getting caught in what was deemed "flash coastal flooding," Bubba and Sierra settle into a restaurant with a cute little room in the back. Of course, it wasn't cheap, but they took it anyway, being that it was available, and it was pretty damn freezing cold outside. "Your car out front?" a man inquired. "Huh?" Sierra murmured. "Is that your car out front?"
"Oh yes, yes it is, my boyfriend Bubba and me (we'll soon to be married), we got stuck in a flood, headed to do some parasailing," Seirra said.
"Parasailing, huh? The only parasailing place left far up Nassau is Piggily Diggilies Boat Rentals and Adventures, but they shut down about a year ago; insurance, you see. People be getting hurt that way."
"Honey, you hear this?" Bubba walked over carrying a large bag of ice.
"What? Did you say they all shut down? Is that right?"
"Yes, sir! It's too bad too because a lot of folks enjoyed their business. It's a damn shame what happened to those stupid tourists last year."
"Stupid tourists?" Sierra repeated.
"What happened? Ah, ah..." Bubba was struggling to figure out what to call him and he could tell.
"Oh, where are my manners? Morty Venesa... I know, I know. I got one of those names with two first names. It is even worse; my last name is a woman's name. Oh, yeah, them stupid tourists. They drove up here in an RV. That must've been a rental too. They were four or five of them... no, six people. Two women and four guys. I worked there, so I know."
"You worked at Piggily Diggilies?" Sierra asked.
"Sure did. They never came back from their fun day in the sun. Not the way you'd expect."
"What do you mean, Morty?" Bubba asked.
"Look! Okay, you folks really want to go parasailing? Listen, you staying here?"
"Yes, for the night, or at least until the mechanic says he has cleared the water out of the car engine."
Bubba looked at him with an expression as to say, what are you getting at.
"Right, your car got flooded out," Morty, now trying not to laugh, spitting the tobacco in his mouth out onto the muddy porch. "Look, I got a fine way to take you on a safe adventure. You want to go parasailing, so let me take you parasailing. I got a boat." Whatever got Bubba and Sierra to agree to go with Morty is beyond human reasoning.
That night, the couple sat in their room and drank fruit punch out of a bowl, which was a custom in Nassau. They turned to each other and were horrified by what Morty had told them happened to the guests of the business, but they didn't believe it. The only way to find out was to see for themselves.
"Honey," she said, in a groggy tone, "are you having another nightmare?" Bubba saw him again: the gray cat jumping over the wooden wall, the parasailing logo on his leg.
"Dear, are you sure you're alright?" gliding her hand down to his crotch area and giving a little tug. "Babe! Why don't you take off your pants tonight?" She started kissing him. "When are you not going to sleep in your clothes anymore?" At that moment, he disengaged, and made a toast. "To the sexiest woman alive," he said. "Are you ready to have some fun tomorrow? Come on! We didn't come all the way from Staten Island for nothin'!"
She looked unsure. In fact, she didn't know what to do or say.
The day of the trip.
The leaves were blowing in the tops of the trees, the rain had cleared, and it was a beautiful day.
There he was, Morty, carrying some gear to a large RV.
"Hey guys," he called out, speaking as if he had known the couple for years, "All set! Let's hit the road."
A boy who was not looking where he was running, ran into Bubba.
"Whoa!" Bubba let out, "Where are you in a rush to young fellow?"
"Get out of here mister, get out!"
The boy ran off, wrapped in a red blanket. He ran like the wind and the blanket flew up, giving the impression that he was wearing a cape.
The caped boy seemed to have disappeared in the woods nearby the restaurant. That day, Bubba and his bride to be were off, following Morty in his oversized RV. Without warning, the RV turned on a narrow road; a road in the wide open where anyone could see. The stretch of this road went for miles along the shoreline of the beautiful blue ocean. Nassau was famous for its clear waters. Sometimes the view looked so refreshing that anyone there would never want to leave. Then the RV pulled into a lot, Bubba and Sierra couldn't believe it. The place was alive with people. As Sierra and Bubba got out of the silver Buick, some people walked up to them and asked if they were going to have some fun boating. "You guys taking the boat out today?"
"Yeah, my boyfriend Bubba and me."
"Oh, cool?" she said. This lady had blond hair, like Sierra, except her hair was longer. She didn't say much after that, but just walked away with the large group of friends she was with. Sierra kept looking at them. Now the group was at a distance, about 30 or so feet, pointing to some decorative plants that were in pots made out of extinct dinosaur bones. They were up on a porch of a very old house, which stood out like a sore tooth. The house didn't have too many attractive features, but a tall, steep chimney, a steep roof, and the slanted porch. "Bubba!" she said, "Check out that house! Wow! What an awesome tilt."
"I know, babe. I've never seen one like that. The house is balanced, but just the porch area is on a tilt."
"Weirdo probably lives there."
The two of them had looked around for Morty and the RV, but couldn't find him or the RV. Suddenly, the lively atmosphere faded before their eyes, and in a flash, everything faded; the summer flowers, the people walking around, everything seemed to crumble away... Bubba, Sierra, even the very earth they stood on.
Two weeks later.
Morty appeared at the restaurant. Some tourists were looking for an adventure parasailing. Morty walked up to them.
"We heard there was a place to go parasailing here."
There is a logo of the parasailing place tattooed on his leg. The group walks away. Singing is heard from the woods nearby after they check into the room at the back of the restaurant.
There is a gray cat sitting by the door.
