FRANK

Frank’s scrotum was crushed numbly into the crusty surface of the old corrugated drainage pipe that he straddled. He’d tossed his uniform into the water and was naked except for his combat boots. The boots Leon the bandleader didn’t want him to wear, but had given in on eventually, after Frank agreed to at least decorate them with the white spats the other players wore.
Frank couldn’t play his instrument and was only in the band because Leon wanted to bone him. Leon would never use the word bone, he’d say romance but either way Leon didn’t know that Frank knew this about him.
Frank needed to travel with the band so had perfected the art of looking like he was playing the snare drum without actually playing it. This had not been easy. It took a lot of finesse to repeatedly almost hit the drum-skin. Ratatatat he synced his soundless movements to the beat of the other drummers.
When he threw the uniform in the river he hadn’t thought ahead. He was hidden by bushes right now, and most of the crowd was up at the parade route, but soon they would return. Frank had faith though. Not the kind of faith they preached at camp but more like faith that things would get sorted out. They always did.
A large fish breaks the surface to snap up a mouthful of bird crap. It rolls over exposing thick yellowing scales that resemble an old man’s toenails. Frank blinks at the sight of its fur covered belly.
Not sure he saw what he saw he angles his head to see into the water without glare from the sun. The fish was not alone, there were more.