writing

Copyright 2014

By Garvath Publishing​

Forward​

Part One of this story is NOT fiction. While the names have been fictionalized, the events occurred just as written in the mid 1990s near Lake Wales Florida.

The rest of the story goes on to tell what could have happened thereafter.

Part One​

"Hey Nate Sanders, Manifest tells me you're wanting to exit the plane last to do a cross-country!" Mick bellowed as he walked up.

Nate looked up from closing his parachute pack. "Something wrong with cross-country jumps?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"What's 'Nakey Nate' want to do a cross-country for? When you're not doing formations, I thought your thing was nudie jumps!"

What makes you think this isn't one, Mick?"

"But you said you were doing a cross-country."

"Yes I did," Nate agreed.

"Cross-country buff jump?" Mick asked, surprised. "What if you land off the Drop Zone? BESIDES owing us all a case of beer?"

"The parachute is a lot of nylon to wrap up in, Mick. I think I'd get by."

Jim, closing his parachute pack a few feet away, piped up. "Nate, you wear those gym shorts up into the plane anyway - just tuck them under a leg strap instead of leaving them in the plane when you exit. That's what I did when I did my naked jump last Summer."

"Hadn't thought of that," Nate said. "That would save on having to stash a pair of pants at the fence line before doing buff jumps."

"Is that why you always land way out there?" Mick asked. "I knew you weren't shy - you've flashed us all in the plane enough when you've gone out first, after all."

"You never know what bystanders you're going to have on the ground," Nate shrugged. "I knew the jumpers wouldn't care, but I never wanted go freak anyone else out. I think I'll try taking the shorts this time."


The other skydivers now gone, the plane was now empty except for Nate and the pilot. He had to be at least 5 miles from the Drop Zone to qualify for a true cross-country. He had checked the wind before taking off, and he planned on opening the parachute immediately after clearing the jump plane. Accordingly he had asked the pilot to take him seven miles upwind. It would take another minute or so to reach his exit point.

He stood and removed the gym shorts he had put on over the parachute harness leg straps. He then wadded them in a tight bundle and tucked them under the left leg strap in back where they would be out of his way till he put them on after landing.

Standing stark naked in front of the open aircraft door at 13,000 feet and 100 miles per hour was more than a bit chilly. He knew from past jumps it would get more comfortable though.

The pilot turned on the signal light above the door. It was time. Nate dove out.

He enjoyed the view of the plane appearing to fall up from him for a second or two before he was belly to earth and stable. He opened his chute. He quickly steered toward the drop zone and looked at his altimeter - 12,000 feet.

Something dark caught his eye to the left and below. He thought it was a little high for a bird. It took a second to focus, then he realized he was watching his gym shorts fluttering away in the wind below!

There was no point trying to catch them. Not being aerodymamic like his gliding-wing parachute, they were falling faster and much steeper than he was. He looked at the city of Lake Wales more than two miles below. He'd easily make it back to the Drop Zone with his four-to-one glide ratio, but those shorts were going to land somewhere in town!

Part Two​

"When do the fish start biting, Daddy?" Timmy asked.

"They're not on the clock, son. They'll bite when they're ready. Just be patient."

Patience was not one of Timmy's strengths. "Think we'll catch any sharks?" he asked.

His father chuckled, but patiently explained "Sharks live in the Ocean. We're in fresh water, so there's no sharks here."

"Can't they swim up a river?"

"Son, we're in a city lake. There's no river connected to it."

"Oh," Timmy said. Then with sudden inspiration he asked "What if a tornado picked up a shark and he dropped out of the sky?"

"Where do you get this stuff?" the man asked.

Timmy shrugged. "I don't know."

A minute later, Timmy pointed up and asked "What's that, Daddy?"

Without looking up the man said "Probably a bird."

"It doesn't look like a bird," Timmy said.

Sighing, the man looked up. It took a second, but then he saw something black fluttering down from the nearly cloudless sky.

"It's going to land in the water, Daddy. Let's catch it!"

The man hesitated a second, then stowed the fishing poles and started the motor. This was a bit odd, after all. After motoring as close as he could estimate to the 'splash-down' point, he shut off the motor, the boat's momentum continuing to carry it forward.

"They're sky pants, Daddy!" Timmy said excitedly, as he watched them splash in front of the boat. "Quick, the net, before they sink!" he said, reaching back.

"Sky pants?" he asked, handing Timmy the net.

The boy was silent as he tried to scoop his treasure from the water. Finally, he turned, water streaming from the saturated object into the boat.

"Son, hold it over the side! Don't get that water in the boat!"

As Timmy complied, the man made his way forward. Leaning over the side a little, he reached into the net and wrung out the cloth. Then he held up the item for inspection. "Gym shorts!" he declared.

"Who's Jim?" Timmy asked.

"'Gym shorts' are shorts people wear when they exercise," the man explained patiently.

Timmy looked up, then looked at his dad with a mischievous grin. "Maybe the angels were exersizing and one of their pants fell off. That would be funny!"

"I'm sure that would," the man agreed.

"I want to wear 'em," Timmy declared.

"Son, first off, they're soaking wet, and second, we have no idea where they came from."

"From the sky, Daddy!" the boy said exasperatedly while point ing upward.

"Before that, son. And I'm sure an angel didn't lose them. Probably blew off someone's clothesline."

Timmy looked up again. "That's sure a tall clothesline! Can I try them on after mommy washes them?"

"Yes, and they'll just stay on the floor of the boat till we get home.


"Mommy, do you know where my belt is?" Timmy walked awkwardly into the family room, trying to hold up the oversized gym shorts with one hand.

"Honey, those are way too big, and they don't have belt loops anyway. Where did you get them?"

"They fell out of the sky into the lake where Daddy and me were fishing."

"Well it will take you a lot of years to grow into those. Go put on something else."

"What does N. S. mean?"

"Where did you see that Honey?"

"It's written on the tag of these pants."

"That's probably the initials of the person that lost them."


"Happy birthday, big bro!" Timmy beamed, handing Kevin a crudely wrapped, lumpy soft package.

"Well thank you, kind sir," replied Kevin. He tore off the wrapper and stared. "Okay...," he said, squinting one eye.

"They're sky pants!" Timmy explained. "They fell off an angel while he exersized."

Kevin looked at his father blankly.

"They literally fell out of the sky while we were fishing," the older man shrugged.

"But they're too big for me!" Timmy smiled.

"Well thank you, but I hardly ever wear shorts - definitely not gym shorts," Kevin said.

"Maybe you can use them when you wash your car," Timmy suggested.

Part Three​

Kevin again suppressed a twinge of guilt. Timmy really hadn't meant for Kevin to use the shorts this way. He dipped them back in the bucket and squeezed more soapy water onto his car.

Minutes later, he hastily rinsed off the suds, and before going inside to answer the phone, dropped his 'rag' onto the back bumper.

By the time he left, it was too dark to notice the shorts were still sitting on the bumper.

Part Four​

Rob was a very conscientious rider. He well understood that the secret of successful motorcycle riding was being ready for the unexpected.

Some things were much more unexpected than others. Keeping a reasonable distance between him and the car up ahead, Rob was completely unprepared for the dark, damp flapping thing that had planted itself across his face. To his credit, he almost maintained control of the bike. At least the lawn that he went down on was soft grass without obstacles, and he didn't break anything.

Part Five​

Rob and Lisa pulled into the marina and got off the bike. "Jeff said his boat was in slip number 14," Rob said. He opened a saddle bag on the bike and pulled out Lisa's bag and a pair of black gym shorts. Noting Lisa's questioning glance, he said, "In case I feel like swimming."

"If I'm not mistaken," Lisa replied, "It's traditional to skinny-dip from a sailboat."

"Well, I guess I'll be ready either way," Rob quipped.

"Let me see those," she said, reaching.

Rob handed her the shorts.

"When have you ever worn anything black? And who is 'N.S.'?"

"I don't," Rob answered. "I just keep those to remind me not to get too complacent riding."

Lisa's expression suggested he elaborate.

"Those things nearly killed me one night."

Lisa's expression didn't change.

"I was riding along, minding my own business, then wham! Out of nowhere, those things are plastered across my face. I nearly lost control of the bike."

"Nearly lost control?" Lisa raised an eyebrow.

"I was lucky," Rob hedged. "It worked out okay. I kept those to remind me not to let my guard down."

"I think I would have burned them as payback," Lisa said as they arrived at the boat.

Jeff heard the last comment, but chose not to pry. "Welcome aboard," he said.


It appeared Lisa was right about the skinny-dipping tradition (aboard Jeff's boat, at least). Rob never used the shorts, and forgot he even had them along.

It was after dark when Jeff pulled into the marina again. It had been a long day. When Rob and Lisa and the other couple left, no one noticed the black shorts lying in the shadows.

Part Six​

Jeff sighed to himself as he heard Todd crashing through the brush ahead. He'd had second thoughts about allowing his younger co-worker to accompany him backpacking, but he hadn't been able to resist Todd's eagerness. After all, it was Jeff's backpacking stories that had gotten Todd interested in 'testing my mettle' (Todd's exact words).

Since late the previous day, Jeff had taken to hanging back and letting Todd blunder on ahead. The trail was too well marked for Todd to get lost, and by hanging back, Jeff had at least some semblance of solitude.

Jeff rolled his eyes at the sudden flood of shouted expletives up ahead. He picked up his pace, but not by much.

When Jeff found Todd, the reason for the younger man's displeasure was clear. Apparently, while lumbering around a bend in the trail, Todd had managed to startle a skunk, which had clearly expressed its displeasure.

Jeff never broke his stride. As he passed Todd, he calmly said, "There's a pond up ahead."


At the pond, Jeff removed his pack. He fished out a bar of biodegradable soap and an empty plastic trash bag. "About all we can do here is take the edge off," he told Todd. "You're going to stink the rest of the trip - just not quite as bad."

"Great," Todd replied sullenly.

"Just put everything you're wearing in the bag, soap up good and wash off. I'll be waiting under the big shade tree just around the bend," Jeff said.

"But these are the only clothes I brought!" Todd said.

Jeff sighed and rummaged through his pack again. He pulled out a pair of black shorts. "You can wear my lucky shorts," he said.

"Why 'lucky'?" Todd asked, removing his own pack.

"They saved my life. Well maybe, anyway. One night I was dropping some friends off back at the marina after a day's sailing. It had been calm, and I had motored in and out of the marina. A gust of wind came out of nowhere, and I saw a life jacket about to blow away and lunged for it. Someone had left those shorts lying on the deck and I tripped over them. As I was going down, I heard the whoosh of the boom swing by over my head. (Apparently someone had accidentally loosened a line in the dark.) If those shorts hadn't tripped me, that boom would have cracked me in the head for sure. People have been killed that way."

"So I guess you can thank 'N.S.' for that," Todd said, reading the tag on the shorts.

"I could, if I had any idea who that is," Jeff answered, re-donning his pack.


When Todd caught up to Jeff, Jeff sniffed and said, "Yeah, you and your pack are riding in the back of the truck. We'll get you a couple of gallons of tomato juice on the way home."

"Tomato juice?" Todd asked blankly.

"For you to bathe in, and soak your clothes and pack. It neutralizes the skunk smell."

"And then I smell like Campbell's soup?"

"You take a normal bath afterward, and launder your clothes normally."

"If you say so," Todd said skeptically.


Todd was surprised at how well the tomato juice worked on his skin. He wasn't willing to launder the clothes in his own washing machine, so he took the tomato juice soaked wardrobe to a laundrymat in a new plastic bag.

While things were drying, he decided to do a little shopping nearby.


"Anyone still using this dryer?" Ralph called out to the room in general. When no one answered, he unloaded the dryer contents onto a nearby table. As he loaded his own clothes in the dryer, he didn't notice the black gym shorts hiding in a shadow.

Part Seven​

"Hey Nate, the German guys are putting together an all-naked formation. You in?" Ralph asked.

Nate glanced at the group of visiting German skydivers, looked back at Ralph, and shrugged. "I'd like to, but I didn't bring my shorts. I lost them somewhere over town on my nude cross-country."

"You would just take them off anyway, what's the big deal?" Ralph grinned. "Embarrassed to walk out to the plane in the alltogether?"

"Not particularly, but I might embarrass some spectators, and I'm not eager to sit bare-butt on that astroturf the plane is carpeted with."

"Gotta point there. Hold on a minute - let me check my car." Ralph turned and walked off.

"Okay," Nate said to no one.


"I thought I remembered seeing these on my back seat," Ralph said, walking up with a pair of black gym shorts. "See if they'll fit."

Nate looked at the tag, and back up at Ralph. "Ralph, these are mine. Where did you get them?"

"Beats me. They showed up in my laundry," he shrugged as he walked away.