Feeling raucous and rambunctious Mr Groovy, Mr Red and Mr Fit, not to be deterred by the days forecast of blistering heat with gale force winds, headed off on their push bikes in high anticipation of their “boy’s” weekend away.
Mr Smarts, who claimed he had urgent things to attend to before he could leave, was to drive up later that morning. Truth be told, he had nothing of importance to do whatsoever, there was just no way in hell he was riding in such withering conditions.
With the day at its hottest and the wind at its most ferocious, Mr Smarts was amazed to see the bike riders ahead, as they should have arrived at the holiday house hours ago.
“Fit,” Mr Smart shouted against the wind from his car. “What happened?”
“It’s the wind!” Mr Fit panted. “It’s too strong.”
“Get in and I’ll give you a lift,” Mr Smarts offered.
“No I’m okay,” Mr Fit lied bravely. “Go on ahead and get the beers ready.”
“Hey Red,” Mr Smart shouted pulling up beside him. “There’s plenty of room in the car?”
“No need to stop now! Almost there!” Mr Red yelled gruffly. Mr Red was very proud, he would ride until it killed him.
Mr Groovy glanced at him wearily and waved him on. He was in the lead and wasn’t going to give that up for anything.
Minutes later, Mr Smarts was sitting contently by the river with an ice cold beer in his hand. Seconds later his phone rang. It was Mr Red.
“Hey Smart,” he said. “We have a situation. Fit has collapsed.”
“What do you mean collapsed?” Mr Smarts asked.
“Well, he’s lying on the road,” Mr Groovy shouted into the phone. “He’s not dead, well we’re pretty sure he’s not. Any chance of you coming back to get him?”
“And bring as much water as you can,” Mr Red begged before hanging up.
So Mr Smarts got back into the car and drove to where Mr Fit was lying delirious in the middle of the road.
“Water!” Mr Fit moaned. But when Mr Smarts went to hand him a bottle it was snatched away by Mr Red and the other by Mr Groovy. Snapping and snarling they almost landed in a punch up over the last bottle.
With no water left for Mr Fit, Mr Smarts bundled him and his bike into the car and they drove away leaving Mr Red and Mr Groovy behind.
“Water!” Mr Fit whispered happily spying the river. “Ahhhh!” he cried in rapture as he plunged his weary body into the murky river.
Not long after Mr Groovy appeared. Without a word he rode straight into the river and fell off with barely a splash. Roaring and bellowing Mr Red threw his bike to the ground and ran into the cold water, right up to his neck.
There they stayed, floating and splashing about until Mr Groovy said, “How about we go for a ride in the boat?”
“Great idea,” Mr Red said clambering out, pulling Mr Fit behind him. Mr Fit’s legs were still a bit wobbly and he really didn’t feel the best at all. Boats sometimes made him feel a bit sick as well.
They puttered lazily down the river and all was well with the world, well for a short time anyway.
“Ah this is the life,” Mr Smarts said sipping his beer as Mr Red steered the boat. Mr Red agreed wholeheartedly. He glanced back at his friends with a grin but that grin quickly turned to one of horror. Mr Fit was sitting, legs apart, across the engine of the boat with his feet dangling in the water.
“Fit!” Mr Red ordered. “Get your feet out of the water before you mangle the motor!” And with that he slammed on the brakes. Mr Fit fell forward and smashed his head on the edge of the motor. There was blood everywhere. Mr Groovy, watching the river of blood and flapping skin passed out and fell to the floor.
“What do we do?” Mr Red cried in a rare moment of panic. “Two down and two to go!”
“Just turn the boat around,” Mr Smarts said holding Mr Fits head together. “Kooky packed a heap of first aid stuff and wouldn’t let me leave until I promised to take it.”
After taping the gash together the rest of the day ran quite smoothly. Mr Fit lay on the banana lounge and was pretty much incoherent while the others swam, drank and did whatever blokes do together when they are being blokey.
That night, exhausted from their ride, the day’s events and the copious amount of beer which had been consumed, they fell asleep under the stars. Ignoring the mosquito’s which were greedily feasting on them, they slept soundly until, they were rudely woken to the sounds of a cannon going off.
“What the hell was that?” Mr Red said jumping up ready to defend them.
“Boom,” it sounded again
“It’s the winery down the road,” Mr Smarts explained. “They use it to scare the birds. The timer must be out.”
So all night the sound of the canon resonated through the hills and no sleep was to be had except for Mr Fits, who slept through it all.
The next day, tired, grumpy and covered in mosquito bites, they left the bikes behind and all drove home with Mr Smarts.
I am pleased to say Mr Fits head is healing quite nicely. Mrs Fit says it makes him look a bit fierce and can’t stop blushing whenever anyone mentions it. Mr Fit has never been so tired in all his life but he does like these early nights.