Season Three – Episode 23 – “Hidden Treasure”
At maximum the septic tank was six feet deep. No real danger now that Rusty had worked his way two feet down. The real danger came in the form of the M-T-M power washer and his newly acquired full body condom of exterior makeshift protection against what would become massive amounts of splattering.
Snorkeling goggles secured—mouth guard in place—hands hidden inside oven mitts—he continued blasting with relentless force. And honestly, he somewhat enjoyed the work. It reminded him of the days on the farm as a youth with cousins Skip and Scoop. Their casual lending of hands was needed doing similar work after transferring pig filled pens to further stages of their grooming for the plate process. Someone had to do the cleanup job.
Work was going much faster thanks to Tawny. Tasks were being accomplished in minutes. In no time this project would be complete. And then—the M-T-M power washer exposed something other than hard settled poop.
Lifting his goggles Rusty laser focused his vision on the bottom half of the newly exposed pit. It was a wristwatch. Something with ornate detailing. Possibly a brass or bronze casing.
He paused…. Then he thought…. It’s “Hidden Treasure.”
Yes, now with chest to the ground, hands clasping the edges of the tank, head stuck down into the pit he could clearly identify what appeared to be a vintage watch. Potentially, some sort of valuable heirloom that would be passed down through generations.
The leather wrap band suggested Bohemian quality. Rough—Functional—Unique. This suggested life on the road. Constantly moving. Always adapting.
What he couldn’t identify was the exposed wrist, belonging to the arm, that was attached to the BODY!!
An ice-cold boathouse rag, dripping with frigid spring lake water, brought Rusty back to consciousness. From his backside he peered up, dazed and confused, with Tawny kneeling by his side applying the cold press.
Unfortunately, his return to the awakened world lasted less than a minute. His new island partner was kneeling over him in a rather precarious position. So much so—It allowed an inescapable, albeit brief glimpse of her cleavage. Instantly overwhelmed by this faux pas—he went to the dark world once again.
YES, Tawny was a knockout—NO, Rusty could not handle her one-two punch.
“Flathers… Flathers… Hey, pull it together!” were her encouraging words, along with some rather abrupt facial slaps used to bring him around for the second time.
“Dude—Dude—OK—I’m awake, stop hitting me,” he responded now holding his chin feeling as though there may have been one or two additional, and warranted, closed fist punches to his jaw.
Professor Cosmoid Scale also joined in the excitement taking place at the septic system site. His sopping wet clothes clung to his sides, evidence of another failed attempt at fixing the main dock.
“What do you got here Rusty my boy?” he queried.
“Something bigger than you can flush down a toilet.”
With Cos and Tawny both peering into the pit Rusty continued to gather his wits. Then they each confirmed with a shared glance, “Yep, we’ve got the bones of a body preserved at the bottom of this tank.”
Before Rusty could get the words out, “Now what do we do?”, local laker Stash McGivern was pulling into the harbor on his routine mail route.
“Oh—Perfect timing,” announced Tawny. “Stash can marry you and bury you on the same day.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m saying he’s not only the mailman, but he’s also the local lake patrol enforcement officer, an ordained minister, and our area mortician slash funeral director. It’s perfect timing.”
“Is Stash really his first name?”
“No—It’s Orvis. Stash was a nickname he picked up in high school. Could never grow a mustache—Was consistently denied by the peach fuzz—But never gave up hope. Thus… You get STASH.”
From the mailboat climbs out McGivern. He’s wearing full lake authority apparel: boat captain’s hat with affixed enforcement badge, fishing vest with envelope compartments, starched priest’s collar, and a shoulder satchel to haul packages. The bag displays embroidering that reads Mortuary Monthly. Presumably a gift from the company for being part of the funeral home association.
“Flathers—You got any mail to go today?” he asks, after greeting the septic drawn crowd.
“Actually, we do—Ah—Um—Mr. Stash. Come take a look.”
With Tawny, Cosmoid, and Rusty standing over the poop pit turned archaeological dig site, the glimmer of the wristwatch hit Stash right between the eyes when he took his first glance.
“Looks like y’all got yourself a fossilized floatie in that tank,” Stash exclaimed. “Might want to get the authorities out here. Oh wait—that’s me.”
Speaking of waiting, the gals (Sally, Ellie, Hazel) had plentifully reached their proverbial fill by the time Admiral Horace Barnacle raised Blackfin Phantom to the surface and set the three Eagles merrily on their way toward the mainland of Bremer Bay in a motorized inflatable raft.
YES—the Blackfin was a “Hidden Treasure.” NO—utilizing Barnacle in pursuit of The Kraken amounted to a pile of poop.
–To Be Continued–