Pleased to say that Mike Casper, who is entering our contest at his own peril, will soon have an ebook available for his first completed novel “The Sing-Song Child” We’ll post a sample chapter after our friend David Wogahn has his manuscript formatted and good to go. (check out David at http://www.sellbox.com/)
All this assumes that Mike survives till daylight. Here is his attempt to win the five hundred bucks we have offered as a prize. You can beat him out of it, perhaps, by entering yourself. here are details:
Frank and Beans
by Mike Casper
Frank placed the big log on the campfire. THE big log. We saved the big one for our last hurrah. There’s no more logs. No more nothing.
“We’re doomed Frank. They’re out there waiting for the fire to go out. Then that’s it.”
As if in response; a low, guttural growl and the clicking of teeth came from the darkness. A splash.
“Look. Let me paint you a picture, Frank. It’s midnight. We’re stuck on this sandbar in the middle of the river ‘til first light. That’s at least five hours away.” Beans’ voice betrayed his rising hysteria. “Those critters out there followed us here. We didn’t know they could swim but they can. And here we are.”
He picked up a rock and hurled it toward the water. “Bastards.”
“There’s always a way out, Beans. Always. Think. What do we have that will burn?”
“Let’s see; toilet paper, three packs of fifty ‘AA’ cell batteries for my lost flashlight,-“
Frank interrupted, “Batteries, Beans, Batteries. Haven’t you ever seen the label on the side? Do not dispose of in fire? That’s it. We’ll burn batteries!”
“Batteries explode, Frank. Anymore frickin’ genius ideas?”
“Calm down, Beans. Think. What else we got?”
“Two canoes. Twelve full bottles of propane, two forty year old sleeping bags from when we were kids, two air mattresses, a tent, two rifles, twelve rounds of ammo, some duct tape, a coffee pot, coffee, no water unless you want to go down THERE…a pack of unlubricated condoms. Umm, Frank, what did you bring these for? Screwing a moose?”
Both men broke out into laughter fueled by absurdity of the moment and their desperate plight.
“A moose. You kill me, Beans.”
“Better me than THEM, Frank.”
“We better do some of that MacGuyver shit and soon or they’ll kill us both.”
“That’s it. We fight back…Thank you Richard Dean Anderson. We need a bomb, and something that’s gonna burn for a long time. WWMD.”
“What Would MacGuyver Do. All he ever needs is a paperclip and some twine. Hey, let’s cut a sleeping bag in two. Add some batteries, wrap it tightly. Light it on fire and roll it towards the water. It will burn and eventually the batteries will explode and keep the bastards back for awhile.”
“You’re crazy, Frank. They’re gonna kill us and eat us. We’re screwed. SCREWED, YOU HEAR ME!”
“Beans, you asswipe, BEANS! FRICKIN LISTEN TO ME DAMMIT. I swear, it’s not too late. IT’S NOT TOO LATE. NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER STOP TRYING.”
“OKAY, OKAY STOP SHAKING ME, FRANK. OKAY, DAMMIT.”
Beans pushed himself away and took a deep breath. “Geez. I used to love that show.”
“Frickin MacGuyver. Frickin genius. I have an idea too, Frank. We take the propane tanks and empty ‘em into the air mattresses. How? We use the condoms as a hose. Yeah laugh but it’ll work. You start the sleeping bag bombs and I’ll start the air mattress torches. We don’t have much time.”
As if lending credence to their plight, the campfire’s logs shifted, sending up a momentary shower of sparks and briefly illuminated a larger area.
The men busied themselves with their tasks. Unnoticed was the campfire’s slow decay.
“Shit, Frank, the campfire’s about out.”
“Throw the tent on it, Beans. Hell, throw your canoe on it too. The canoe! Why didn’t we think of that?”
Beans tossed the tent on the fire and was surprised by the fierceness of the flames.
“Damn thing was supposed to be flame retardant, Frank.”
“Made in China, Beans.” Both men laughed.
“Here, help me with the canoe, get a rifle and cover me.”
“This is when I need a semi auto rifle and not a bolt action. Damn the governor and his liberal touchy feely ban.”
“Make ‘em count, Frank. Make ‘em count.”
The men inched towards the river. A shadow a little darker than the others moved to the side and Frank shot from the hip.
A cry of agony meant the round hit its target.
Beans strained against the canoe and it slid up the sandbar.
“They’re getting bolder, Beans.”
“Yeah. Let’s get the hatchet and break up the canoe.”
Soon the fire was blazing.
“We just bought another hour, Beans.”
“That’s maybe all we need, Frank. Get your MacGuyver on and let’s fight back.”
“I almost feel like we’re gonna survive, Beans.”
The men worked feverishly, pausing only to toss canoe on the campfire and to curse the creatures waiting for them in the darkness.
“Ready with bomb one, Beans.”
“Thunder River, Frank. Let ‘er roar.”
Frank had tightly wrapped a dozen batteries in a chunk of a sleeping bag. He lit the bomb and rolled it toward the river. It burned fiercely and the men were rewarded with an earsplitting BOOM as the batteries detonated.
“There’s another half dozen where that came from, Beans.”
Suddenly the sandbar was brightly lit and Frank could see a dozen creatures retreating toward the river. He took up his rifle and shot at three. He turned and saw Beans holding an inflated air mattress by the corner, high overhead.
“Only problem is the damned air mattress is too hot to hold, Frank. It’s burning my hand.”
“Ah, wrap your made in the USA jacket around it.”
“Good idea. Oh, and look what I found.” Beans motioned towards four boxes stacked near his rifle.
“More ammo! God bless her, your wife added more ammo to our provisions. Beans! We’re gonna live!” Frank could see tears running down Bean’s face and wiped his own away. “Praise God we’re gonna frickin live!”
“That’s two hundred rounds. Frank, make some more bombs and cook us some dinner. It’s another four hours till morning and I’m hungry. And I gotta take a whiz, so let’s MacGuyver up a stand for this thing.”
“We’re gonna LIVE!”