The Badger Game

How many times to I have to tell you dweebs? DON’T use your plastic in Mexico? Why would you WANT to put a couple of fifty cent tacos on your MasturCard, anyway? If even they didn’t run it back into the kitchen and swipe it on four different machines? Use your ATM card to get pesos. You get the best rate and don’t have to keep doing math for every purchase. Don’t give credit where debit is due.
Seagull, in The Blasé Sojourner.

Townsend woke and had the cell phone in hand before the subtle alarm tone could even wake up the Wisconsin cheerleader beside him in the ransacked bed. He always woke up all at once like that.

It was just Weistler. Town’s attention sideslipped a little, to the plump, sculpted, muscled, lightly peach-downed ass at hand. Damn fine, he was thinking. Varsity tested. Luscious.

He felt an odd upwelling of affection for this nameless girl while he listened to the Weasler buck and wing through his usual opening jive. He was way to jaded to be heavily moved by sex and/or love anymore. But something about the sheer perkiness of those slumbering buttocks invoked a sweetness in him. She was just walking around in front of that thing, unconsciously strolling and jumping and mosh-dancing through life without even getting to enjoy the view of something really, truly beautiful. He has a moment of fondness not just for her, but all the sun-lushed flesh about to wake up and spread itself on the beach, all the fetching bounciness of the All-American booty. He made a note to give it a nice kiss before slipping out. Then Weistler got down to business and he lost all interest.

“Apparently a diving shop,” Weistler was droning on. “Runback turns up scuba gear, ‘fill’, whatever that is…”

Probably filling the tanks with air, you dork, Townsend thought, even as he sat up and sorted out his clothes. Hers tossed around the room like hurricane droppings, his neatly draped on a chair. Pistol and phone neatly tucked under the mattress without her being the wiser.

“And get this,” Weistler continued as if imparting the infotel of all time, “Translates to ‘hiring a boat and two hands’, but it got charged back.”

“Sounds like I better get my ass in gear, pronto,” Townsend said and he pulled on his shorts one-handed and slipped into his nice new leather huaraches. “She might be heading out to sea.”

“Or, apparently, not,” Weistler corrected him. “But what’s important is where the dive shop is, right?”

“If it’s not in Mexico we wasted a lot of taxpayer money.”

“No worries. Isla Mujeres.”

“That’s a day trip from here,” Townsend knew that from all the beachboys pimping the excursion, but didn’t know exactly which way the excursions went. “Must be really close.”

“Oh, good thinking, Golden Boy,” the weasel sneered. “You can probably see it from your balcony if you get the pussy off your face.”

“I’m there.” Townsend was heading for the door, pulling his shirt over his other arm. “Text me the address and phone.”

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” Weistler hung up.

Town stopped by the bathroom on the way out, ran his fingers through his hair and checked to see if you could spot the gun under his shirt. He turned to go, but spotted a carmine lipstick laying on the washstand. He picked it up and scrawled on the mirror, then headed for wherever the hell Isla Mujeres was.

When Jodi Trent–sweetheart of Fon du Lac and delight of the Badger backfield that had gone a sorry 5-5 last season, but had hit a solid 100% with the ebullient Jodi–bumbled into the restroom, the previous evening still somewhat vague in her pretty head, she found her mirror decorated in what she first thought was some sort of “Red Rum” threat, but blinked it off to read: “Absolutely Grade-A ass. U.S. Government inspected.”

She didn’t really have a very clear recall of Townsend until two hours later, not to mention two beers, three glasses of orange juice, and a handful of vitamins and iron, but when she did, she gave a golden Midwest smile. She didn’t get swept away by studly guys much lately, but the memory of her mysterious disappearing lover gave her a minute of sunny affection before she headed back into the surf and sun.