The Line Throwers: We Need Heroes
Comedy short - Recruiting season for the world's best river lifeguards
The Line Throwers is an ongoing comedy series about Riverborn County’s elite river lifeguards. New readers can jump in or catch up with earlier stories:
Trailer
Previous Installments
Line Throwers 1 - Morning Assignments
Line Throwers 2 - Aspen of the Lowlands
Barrett entered Stonehouse 3 before most of the crew arrived. He was nursing a hangover from celebrating yesterday’s rescue of an accountant who’d drifted down the wrong side of Eastbank Bend. He pulled the hood up on his sleeveless sweatshirt and dropped into a chair next to Skip at a small card table in the corner. Skip, his number two and in similar condition, was picking at a breakfast burrito.
“That got outta hand yesterday, bro,” Skip said. He sniffed a refried bean and curled his nose. “I should’ve quit drinking even before that accountant showed up at the Cliff Jumper and started buying rounds.”
Barrett rested his forehead on the table. “Same. But he was so happy to be alive it felt rude not to take advantage of him.”
“Oh, you have to. Someone else’s dollar? I’m ordering Jägerbombs until they throw me outta there.”
“Which is exactly what happened, if I recall,” Barrett said.
“You know it.”
They both looked at each other and high fived.
“Stonehouse Slings!” Skip said.
The crack echoed through the briefing room, causing both men to wince.
Just then the sarge came power-walking in, smoothie in hand. “Man do I love the smell of the river in the morning.” He took his sunglasses off. “By god, boys, you look like hell.”
“Thank you, Sarge,” Skip said.
“That wasn’t a compliment.” He studied them for a moment. “Lemme guess. Too much celebrating over the accountant?”
Neither answered.
“I get it, boys, I do.” Sarge set the smoothie on the podium. “I’ve been there. Make a headline save. Drinks are flowing. Everybody started chanting Eastbank Bend’s undefeated. Then the out-of-town wallet shows up and buys a round. That’s tradition.”
Barrett nodded.
“But you’re also Harbor Marshal.”
Barrett’s smile faded.
“The younger throwers watch what you do. If you’re gonna be the face of Stonehouse 3, you gotta know when to call it.”
“Fair.”
“And Skip, I got no expectations for you.”
“Thank you, Sarge.”
“Again, not a compliment.”
Sarge grabbed a stack of flyers from the podium. “So instead of throwing line today, since you’re both so obviously under the weather, guess what? Recruiting season starts this week.”
Barrett groaned.
“Don’t give me that. You’re both on flyer duty. Cover downtown. Restaurant Row. The Marina District. And the trailer parks. Every bulletin board, coffee shop, and public restroom.”
“Come on, Sarge. You just said I’m the face of Stonehouse 3. Shouldn’t the face be doing something chiller?”
“Yeah. And the face’s assistant. Doing equally chiller?” Skip said.
“Good thing you two are better at rescues than grammar,” the sarge said. “And no. Non-negotiable. Consider yourselves head talent scouts.”
Barrett huffed. “How about we ditch the trailer parks? A skink hasn’t made the cut as a line thrower in more than ten years.”
“Another non-negotiable. Riverborn is a community. We take care of our own, no matter which side of the river your rump rests.”
Barrett and Skip grabbed the flyers and trekked off, the click-clack of flip-flops carrying in their wake.
Sarge watched them go. “Ten years,” he muttered. “Let’s see if we can change that.”
Johnny was throwing stones into the hole of a life preserver hanging from a chain-link fence. He was aiming for the center diamond. The trailer park pool was mostly empty. A ten-year old in swimmies had just grabbed his mother’s purse and dived into the shallow end. She didn’t notice, too engrossed in a cigarette.
Lipsticks and compacts began floating toward the diving board. As head lifeguard, Johnny considered whether familial purse theft fell under his jurisdiction.
A few pennies drifted to the bottom.
He decided the situation would mostly resolve itself, then tossed another stone. The rock sailed over the pool and through the center of the life preserver.
“Did you hear what I said, Johnny?” Grace called from behind the concession stand counter.
“Huh? Oh. What was that?”
“I said, what’d you want to get into tonight? I know they were doing half-priced chili boats at The Mountie. Figured we could head down there and split one.”
Before Johnny could respond, a soft-top Jeep came speeding into the lot. Out popped two familiar faces.
“Well, well, well,” Barrett said, walking with Skip through the pool entrance. “Head Skink of the underworld.”
Johnny let out a sigh. “What are you doing here, Barrett?”
“Honestly? No idea.” Barrett glanced around the pool. “For reasons nobody can explain, Sarge has a soft spot for this place and thinks we might find a body capable of throwing line. But all I can see is a flip phone about to float into the skimmer and a pool that’s one dead possum away from being condemned.”
Skip pointed toward the water. “I don’t know. Looks kinda nice.”
“Can it, Skip,” Barrett said.
“Yeah, can it, Skip,” Johnny said.
Barrett shoved past Johnny, then leaned on the counter. “You mind if we hang a few of these on your chicken tender shack here, Grace?”
“Have at it,” Grace said, then went back to stocking the hot dog buns.
Barrett handed a few flyers to Skip, who began stapling them to the sides of the concession stand.
“I’ll also take a Cherry Laffy Taffy. But only if it’s the ones with the sprinkle crunchies on em,” Barrett said.
“I think we got some in the back,” Grace replied, then left to check.
Barrett turned back around to Johnny. “So, you planning on trying out this year?”
Johnny shrugged. “Maybe.”
Barrett laughed. “That’d be something.”
The two stared at each other for a moment. Then a ringtone sounded from the pool filter. Nobody moved.
Buzz. Buzz.
The mother sat up from her plastic recliner, looking for her phone.
Her purse was now floating upside down in the deep end.
“TYLER!”
The kid immediately started running.
His mother lunged after him, caught her flip-flop on the lounge chair, and windmilled directly into the pool.
Tyler cleared the fence and disappeared between two trailers.
The woman surfaced, cigarette damp but preserved.
Barrett shook his head. “This place is a wasteland.” He headed for the exit. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, Chief. Looks like you’ve got a cleanup in aisle two.”
“Yeah. Grab a mop, skink,” Skip added before following Barrett out to the Jeep.
Johnny watched the soft-top speed out of the gravel lot. The mother was treading water, trying to fish her purse from the bottom with a leaf rake. He looked down at one of the flyers Skip had left behind.
RIVERBORN LINE THROWERS - THE COUNTY NEEDS MORE HEROES - ARE YOU READY?
The woman disappeared beneath the surface.
Johnny sighed and headed for the life preserver.
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See you soon,
—Ricky C.
Cover photo credit - Ninjastroni
Nice introduction to Johnny. I like the way you closed this segment with his call to action. 👏
It's all in a day's work for the Riverborn life guards. Hehe. I have a little faith in them but even less in the town. Looking forward to more, Ricky. Haha.