No. 141

Douglas McDonald cracked the beer and stepped out onto his deck. He looked over the lake and wished he could spend all of his time here, not just the few weekends a year that he got away from work to visit his cabin.

He sat down and swatted a huge mosquito that was gunning for his ankle. The bugs were a nuisance that he would gladly put up with.  He looked up from the mangled insect corpse and noticed two men at the edge of the water. They seemed to be struggling with what seemed to be an overturned canoe.

McDonald watched them get the object to the shallows just offshore. He could tell now that it was a man and a woman, not two men. He saw that they were nervous. Both were looking furtively over their shoulders.

McDonald squinted at the canoe. It looked odd. The shape wasn’t quite distinct.

Then realized what they were up to.

He set his beer aside and quietly walked from the deck and down towards to the mystery couple.

“Afternoon,” he told them with a neighborly friendliness. “What’cha got there?”

The man and woman both jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. They hadn’t noticed him watching or sneaking up on them.

“It’s a, uh,” the man stammered, trying to think of a reasonable explanation.

“Looks a bit like Marvin the Monster,” said McDonald, referencing the lake’s supposed serpent resident. He looked them both in the eyes. “Hey, you both wouldn’t be trying to pull somethin’ fishy would you?”

Again, a panicky glance passed between the couple.

“No, this is just our, um, boat,” the man trailed off again and kicked feebly at the plastic mock-up now rocking softly in the light chop of the water.

“Yeah,” said the woman. “What’s it to you?”

“Oh, nothing,” answered McDonald. “I just thought I’d let you know that most sightings are reported at the other end of the lake. And that if you want me to keep my mouth shut it’ll cost you a couple cases of beer,” he told them. “Each,” he clarified.

Four days later, McDonald was out on his deck again. This time he opened the local newspaper to read the headline story about the astonishing sighting of Marvin the Monster by a tourist couple who had been spending the week in town.

He scanned the article and saw that the two were students who’d manage to catch the creature on film with pictures that the scientific community had already described as “conclusive evidence” and “impossible to fake”.

McDonald smiled to himself.

The story also detailed how the two were in talks to sell the account of the sighting to a book publisher and a movie studio, and how the town was planning to cash in on the publicity with a licensed line of souvenirs and promotions based on the picture. The photographers would be coming into some serious money.

He went into the house and found the phone number he’d made them give him. He hummed happily as he dialed the number.

“Hello?” answered a voice on the other end. It was the girl.

“Hello, Whitney, this is Doug McDonald. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten me yet,” he told her.

“Ah, yes, Mr. McDonald. What can I do for you?”

“I saw your picture in the paper Miss. Pratt. You looked very good.”

“Uh huh,” she said.

McDonald could almost hear her eyes narrowing through the phone line.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“I’m real happy that you kids managed to get such a good picture of Marvin. Tell me, how did you manage to find him, again?” he asked her, his voice now loaded with innuendo.

“You keep your mouth shut, old man,” Whitney screamed at him.

“I will. Don’t worry. But I’d like to think that we could work out a little arrangement to help me forget the details. It would be a shame if anybody were to imply that your spectacular picture was less than authentic,” he said, closing the trap.

He heard the abrupt click as she hung up the phone. He nodded to himself. Then he went to the fridge and got himself a beer from the stash he’d already extorted from the fraudsters. He smiled as he sauntered back out to the deck.

They’d play his game. He would soon be able to afford many more days on the lake.