A Cannonball for Mother Nature by Chris Leavens

By Chris Leavens
This is truly the final story I wrote for Pork Pony, but it was published under an alias. Mother Nature oversees a staff of obese people who do cannonballs to create catastrophic waves in the ocean. (CL)

Jill stood on the rock and peered into the sloshing, choppy Gulf Coast waters. The foamy froth of the sea reminded her of a milkshake and it made her hungry.

Mother Nature was watching her from the beach. “Hey you! Murdock!” she yelled, “Jump already. Time is money, girl.”

The shouting shook Jill from her daydream. She glanced over at Mother Nature, the svelte Nubian princess. Four muscular black men surrounded Momma N, as they called her, fanning her with palm leaves. Momma N, always touted as a caring, wise, and graceful matriarch was nothing more than a haughty, decadent bitch.

“I better see that big ol’ behind of yours in the water in two seconds or I’ll be deducting some dollars from your next check, honey,” Mother Nature yelled, “ain’t your ten minute break again.”

With that, Jill sighed and launched into the air, raising her legs. She curled up into a 302 pound ball of flesh and pummeled the water. A perfect cannonball. The splash she caused was gargantuan. A residual wave smashed against the shore, soaking Mother Nature and her entourage. “That’s my girl! That’s my girl!” Momma N cheered.

Underwater, Jill sat on the ocean floor. She contemplated letting every molecule of air escape her lungs. Was there a more beautiful place to drown? She thought not.

“Andre and Andre,” Mother Nature addressed two of the men attending to her, “go check on Jilly. Girl’s been down there for too long. She’s the best. Can’t lose the best.”

Jill dug into the sand and pulled out a shell. Pale oranges and blues rippled across its glassy surface. Its simple beauty was astounding. Even more extraordinary was the fact that an artless wench like Mother Nature could create such a marvel. She drove a Jaguar and had a house in Beverly Hills, for God’s sake. Jill snapped the shell in two and dropped it.

Two simultaneous splashes caused Jill to look up. Andre and Andre were above her. They held her large body by the arms and pulled her to the surface. “Bummer,” she thought.

“Don’t you go dying on me babe, we just getting’ started here,” Mother Nature said in a well, motherly way. “Andre, Andre; bring her to me.”

The Andres did. They were shoed away by Mother Nature, “baby, you alright?”

“Thanks to you I am,” Jill coughed.

“Honey, you wanna die?”

“There’s really nothing I got to live for.” (Jill’s husband, children, and parents were all “taken from us” in a horrible canasta mishap. She fell into a state of depression, ate too much spray chees, and got really, really fat).

“Shit girl, you’re the best cannonballer I got. Did I ever tell you that?”

Jill stared into Mother Nature’s dark brown eyes. Why was she being so nice, so gentle? She let ol’ Stevie drown the other week and he wasn’t even trying to die. “Try sweet talkin’ somebody else.” What did the bitch have up her sleeve?

“Fine girl, you wanna croak, I ain’t gonna stop you.” Momma N stroked Jill’s hair, “But the thing is, I need a big ass tidal flood to hit Fort Myers tonight and those other lazy asses just ain’t gonna cut it.”

“You don’t need me, Lenny can handle it.” Jill looked toward the ocean.

“That cracker ain’t nothing but talk. His white ass can’t make one tenth of the splash you make with one cannonball. Just look at him.” They watched as Lenny jiggled a bit, jumped from a rock, and belly-flopped into the water.

Jill giggled.

“And he’s the next best after you, sister. What do I have to do? Wanna raise? I got more dollars for you. Wanna man? You can take either of those Andres. They both fine.”

“I don’t want to be fat.”

“Well hey honey, Mother Nature made you that way for a reason. It’s in your metabolism. Besides, wouldn’t I be kinda shootin’ myself in the foot helping you to get all skinny?”

“I can always kill myself when you’re not looking.”

“OK, here’s the deal, girl. You get this Fort Myers job done and I’ll get that Jared Fogle Subway sandwiches brother on the phone. You know he used to work for me? Brother will bring you down slooooow, so while you’re losing weight, you’ll still be working for me. That cool?”

Jill loved the spicy Italian sub. “You’ve got a deal, Mother Nature.” They shook hands and Jill happily stepped onto the highest rock to cannonball once again.

That night, forty-three residents of Fort Myers, Florida were “taken from us” by the flood caused by Jill Murdock’s ass’s tidal agitation.

1 Comment

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This is really fun and you never told me about it. I only read what people tell me about, you know; that's why I have read "The DaVinci Code", but not any of Tom Clancy's "Ops-Center" tomes.

The last bit is aweseome: "taken from us" and ass tidal agitation. Very good.

By the way, I have figured out how to log in today.

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This page contains a single entry by Chris Leavens published on August 17, 2002 7:38 PM.

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