A BEER, A BATH.

AND A SUMMER NIGHT

by Theodore King

As he stripped off his khaki work pants and shorts, he heard Pat's car pull into the driveway, and he was settling wearily into the water by the time Pat galloped up the stairs, two at a time.

"Chuck?" he yelled.

"I'm in the tub."

"Good. Be right in."

For the several months that they had been working in Pine Rock, the two young construction workers had been sharing their drab three and a half rooms, and now as the summer waned, Chuck anticipated the pleasant relief from long days of labor in the blazing heat, though grateful for the good pay, for a fine, lean body which the sun seemed to have turned to gold, and, above all, for Pat.

"I brought you something, even though you don't deserve it, so open your eyes." Lounging back with only his head and knees above water, Chuck looked up to see Pat's heavily tanned features split in a delighted grin as he held a can of beer about three feet above his head, tipping it ominously. "Here's mud-in your eye!"

But he had underrated his aim, for the beer, skillfully directed, erupted from the can and sought Chuck's mouth in a fine stream, discreetly cutting off his "You bast-" at it filled his gaping mouth. He twitched and he gulped, and he stretched his neck to receive the cascading brew-all with the desperation of a baby robin craving worms, until Pat, only human, started howling merrily and lost all control. His aim faltered, and the fountain of beer bombarded Chuck's head, splashing over his crewcut and onto his shoulders; it streamed and foamed over his face and into his eyes until, unable to stand the cold and tickling downpour any longer, he took a mighty gulp of air and submerged entirely. Pat waited in weakened condition.

The seconds passed away and Pat, recalling his days as a lifeguard, started thinking about kicking off his heavy shoes, but his fears proved groundless as bubbles rose, followed by Chuck's inquiring voice from the depths: "All clear?"

one

10