Shaun Murray and Parks Bonifay are wakeboarders. On warm summer days in the Bahamas they effortlessly pull off such tricks as Blind Judges, Ralies, Air Krypts, and Scarecrows. After completing these maneuvers they meet on the boat and exchange jubilant high-fives. Often they will spend entire afternoons high-fiving on the wake-boarding boat, as high-energy jams play from the speakers and other wakeboarders carve behind.
Babes are what follow Shaun Murray and Parks Bonifay, as they attend wakeboarding parties and pump-up rallies, as they eat in restaurants and walk to their convertibles. Shaun Murray will wink at a babe, or Shaun Murray will pause to ask the name of a babe, and that babe will swoon, her knees weak and her labias minora clenching slightly. She calls her cousin as he walks away and screams in delight.
Shaun Murray invented the Osmosis 540, a stellar wakeboarding move, and Parks Bonifay invented the Temper Tantrum, which regularly blows the minds of spectators. Parks Bonifay is five years younger than Shaun Murray, and still somewhat of a Loose Cannon, but as the youngest person to wakeboard ever at the age of six months, Parks Bonifay holds the respect of wakeboarding fans everywhere, especially for winning the X-Games at the age of fourteen, which was the first he attended. Shaun Murray and Parks Bonifay share a friendly rivalry whose underlying dynamic is mutual respect. This respect is transmitted silently in the quality and vigor of their high-fiving, which sometimes lasts up to ten or fifteen minutes. Often Shaun Murray will take the lead, high-fiving Parks Bonifay for ten to fifteen minutes at a time as he watches congregations of babes from the poolhouse window. But sometimes Parks Bonifay will surprise Shaun Murray with a Temper Tantrum or other Invert-style move, and then he will spectate the babes outside while high-fiving Shaun Murray.
Shaun Murray has his own line of wakeboarding equipment and apparel. On his personal website an internet user can purchase t-shirts, thongs, and baby apparel that carry his logo. On his website everyday citizens can purchase an intensive week of wakeboarding instruction in Florida with Shaun Murray himself. Enrollment is limited to five guests at a time. Shaun Murray also has his own videogame, which is called Wakeboarding Unleashed featuring Shaun Murray. He has been plagued by nightmares.
Shaun Murray imagines himself with four arms. He accomplishes fantastic tricks, unheard-of maneuvers, ripping so much air it's like he broke up with gravity. Then he lands in an extremely stable fashion, on four muscular legs that glisten in the spray of the wake. He high-fives Parks Bonifay twice as hard. The sun shrouds itself in clouds for a moment, but only so when immediately it breaks from them the effect is more glorious than uninterrupted sunlight would have been.
Shaun Murray grows old. Shaun Murray updates his blog more frequently. In conversations or important business meetings a word or phrase will trigger almost corporeal daydreams. Suddenly he finds himself staring blankly at a table full of high-powered businessmen, their expressions inquisitive and behind theirs eyes slight worry. The lock's hands have jumped from a 10:13 happy face to a 10:25 sad face. He calls Parks Bonifay from the limousine and they meet to consume protein and carbohydrate packs together. They watch the passers-by and rate each on potential jumping height, carve balance, rail balance, stamina, and fuckability. Parks Bonifay wears sunglasses. His eyes are invisible.
The Florida sun is hot. Shaun Murray crosses and re-crosses his legs. If too much sweat accumulates in the crooks of his legs his excema will become irritated, resulting in uncomfortable itchiness on the backs of his knees and the insides of his elbows. Shaun Murray does not pay for wakeboarding equipment, wakeboarding-themed apparel, protein food, wetsuits, or sunglasses. If he had gone to medical school he would be saving someone's life. Sirens approach, the stretcher is rushed in. Hopeless, the nurses shake their heads. The doctors practice grave expressions. Shaun Murray is there. He doesn't pause to wash his hands. His trademark. He performs such surgical maneuvers as the Osmosis 540 or the Egg Roll and the patient gains consciousness at the last moment, just in time to smile up at him in tired gratitude. As a joke, he leaps onto the empty stretcher and rides it down the hall, away into flourescence. There are no hands not involved in applause. A cute attendee winks as if to assure him of her supply-room troth.
Stepping from the shower after a day of profoundly exquisite wakeboarding Shaun Murray examines a small paunch in the mirror. In his reflection, with a finger, he traces his laughs lines in the condensation. That evening, he calls several babes, who accompany him while partying late into the night. In the velvet V.I.P. room of a velvet bar he avoids the shiny golden handrails. The fourth round of drinks comes and he closes his eyes and concentrates on feeling the hands of the babes, which roam over his toned, tanned, muscular, and smooth skin. He imagines the hands emanate from a single babe, who crouches comfortable and demurely on her six legs. He leaves for the bathroom and hopes to hear only one voice call to him, and quickens his steps when there are three.
Parks Bonifay sits at the same bar, on a stool, a hat on his head that obscures his famous babe-drawing features. A single blonde lock has escaped, burgundy in the low light. His fingers stroke the cold of an empty amber tumbler, and in a low voice he calls to the barkeep, the brief idea of holding four different glasses at once dismissed. He forces his eyes to the barroom and slouches on his stool. Parks Bonifay has personal assistants who read every major newspaper in the world every morning. Worrying him tonight are the rumours published in several underground publications that North Korea is performing unstable and dangerous wakeboarding experimentation. Recently a North Korean child of ten months successfully rode a wakeboard for seven minutes. And Matunde was caught dirtying the well-water again.
A figure pulls up to the stool next to him. Without looking, Parks Bonifay speaks.
"But," Shaun Murray protests, "the babes ..."
"I have 14 assorted prosthetic limbs. Let's go."
Shaun Murray and Parks Bonifay leave the bar. They call a cab and high-five all the way home.
This is wakeboarder fan-fiction. It has been published in Untrenchant magazine and is dedicated to JANEY SMITH.