Funny Creative Nonfiction

There's a one day in past no one remembers...

"I wish people could see that. No one is going to believe us." Miró put his camera on.

"You were saying?" Tomazo smiled. His friend was always here to solve his non-existent crisis.

"So, what are you going to say to our fans?" Tomazo stuttered.

"We-we're about to jump from the plane, you know," When he spotted Miró, he added: ",with other members of Wackos International."

Miró rolled his eyes at the nervous youngster. "Tomazo, Tomazo, what I am going to do with you? You're not scared of jumping from 700 metres but speaking to the public it's mortifying? Unbelievable."

Tomazo pulled on his friend's parachute to make sure everything was in perfect shape. "I can assure you- fine, fine, check it for the thousandth time."

Miró let his friend do the checks and went to look for other boys. "Hello, Wackos! Some words of encouragement for our fans?" They began to shout: "We gonna jump, you better watch it. 700 metres and no one's dying!" Miró laughed and joined them with chanting. "Are you guys ready, an aeroplane is here in a minute?" Instead of an answer, they started to dress up. Joel, the oldest of the group, smiled at Miró. "If I want to show my abs, I would do it in a gym. Not with you grinning behind the lens. Shoo!"

"You never let me have fun, do you, Joel?" Miró grinned when Joel threw his sweaty top at him.

"I'll show my sixpack to anyone, Miró." Emmanuel laughed. The cameraman pointed the camera at him, smiling. Emmo twisted his top over his head, wiggling around with his hips. Other boys cheered.

"Why are you not ready? The pilot's already here." Tomazo entered the locker room, then twisted himself to run away, embarrassed to death.

"Tomazo! Our virgin boy, don't you worry, we're leaving so you can get ready," shouted Arno. Miró stared at him in disbelief. How dare is he? ", chill, I am on my way out." The youngster added and left the locker room, laughing. When only Miró left, secretly leaving the camera on, he asked Tomazo:

"What's the issue? My younger brother sometimes doesn't think about what he's doing, hell, he never thinks. That doesn't mean he's right about you."

"Some scars are better to stay hidden, Miró."

"Let me help you, then. I think you can trust me, after all." Tomazo shivered but then let him help. "Is it safe to jump with this?" He poked the thin tube hanging off his stomach. "I'll be fine, believe me. I need a tape, and you need to hold it for a moment." Miró nodded. "Hey, you will not rip me apart, hold it tight!" Tomazo blushed. It sounded harsh but Miró waved it off.

"Tomazo, calm down, we are both men. You can actually hit me, you know?" The younger of the men shook his head.

"No, Miró, I will not. Besides, Wackos are ready to game on. Don't tell me you can't hear their bickering from outside." Mir´o slapped his arm and together they went outside. Every parachutist was checking its stuff, buckling themselves and joking about presidents and priests. Tomazo had to smile. They disagree, first, with this idea. But Miró was convincing and group of eight men and three women build up enough courage to set the meeting.

To actually jump. With Tomazo, shy boy from Texas, first.

He breathed in and out. He grabbed the rope. He breathed in and out again. Then he raised his thumb up and shouted: "On three!" Pilot laughed and slightly shifted the plane on the side. Tomazo screeched and he was gone. Free fall from the plane. Alone, dropping fast, yet he was relaxed. Screaming his lungs out, he let happiness fill him to the brink. Then he pulled the string and opened his parachute. At first nothing happened, then violent thrust of wind raised him up. Tomazo realized the parachute opened already and clutched the harness, maneuvering as he was taught in the class.

Briefly, he could see Joel and Marianne, Wackos official founders, screaming and laughing around. Then others jumped in synchronized motion. Finally, they all reached Tomazo and caught him from both sides, creating a Wacko "circle of bravery". Tomazo couldn't hold back tears. Bunch of colleagues now turned into something Tomazo never had. A family. They were doing it for him. And with him.

"That was amazing!" Emmo landed first, laughing his ass off from relief. "I'll kill you, when you land hard, men!" He shouted at the sky where men were falling. "It's not over. Next week, we are deep diving in Marine Trench." Miró remarked, being killed immediately with a look of slightly scared Emmanuel.

"Are you okay, Tomazo?" When everyone landed, Miró run to his friend. He was white as a sheet, shivering. And big blotch of blood was trickling from his stomach. "Call an emergency, quick!" He shouted, breaking the panic silence. Joel run in search of signal while others were helping to unbuckle Tomazo from his parachute. "I'll be fine, no stress." He whispered, attempting to relax them. Arno shook his head and nipped: "You idiot! You cut yourself open and expect us to believe you'll be good?!" Miró wasn't in mood to scold him, focused on Tomazo, who was clutching his left arm in attempt to fight shivers. Emmanuel managed to free him from the harness and they lay him down. "The helicopter is on the way." Joel absent-mindedly wiped his face of sweat and announced the news. "Hey, buddy, what's that?" Hanzo, Joel's younger brother, commented when Miró accidentally pulled out Tomazo's suit. "Uhm," Tomazo went silent. "Heck no, Tomazo, they deserve to know. Now, grow into big boy pants and tell them!" Miró pinched his shoulder, sober look on his sweaty face. ",uh, I got PEG tube. Two years ago." Everyone went silent for a while, then Emmo sighed: "You ruined it now. I always thought you're gay vampire." The Wackos burst into a laugh. "Why gay? I get that part with not eating your food, but gay? Do you think you are turning me on? You're handsome, that's without doubt, but you know, I'm wet while looking at girls. Sorry, Marianne. It's rude to say it aloud." She waved it off, looking nervous as blood didn't stop trickling, making him less able to communicate. "Where's the-" Arno growled when they heard deafening noise from helicopter's rotating blades.

After surgery, Tomazo was bored from watching cartoons and he switched the channel to evening news. He started to laugh, waking up his roommate. "Shush you, trying to get some sleep, wait- it's that you?" Tomazo swallowed tears and nodded. The evening news were full of his face. To be clear, Wackos International group was served as the main dish for local media. There was a record from Miró and also the part he was unaware of. The part of their conversation in the locker room. He reached for his phone, shaking. This hit him home. But before the phone connected to Miró, he knocked at the door and invited himself inside. With box of chocolates and grin plastered on his face. "I guess you would like to kick me. So I melted them first."

"How could you? I trusted you with my- with this!" He pointed at his bandaged stomach. "Because you trusted me, I didn't tell a soul. Nor did you. Though you should be proud. Nothing of this would happen, if you didn't stand up for them. You save them, risking your own life. And now, you are part of us. Raining men. Wackos. Seize the day and save sorrow for the funeral." With these words he left the room, leaving Tomazo to think about the past he was running from.

"What he was talking about? Who did you save?" His roommate wondered. "My name is Tomazo Fretta. I was deployed to rescue mission of American soldiers, held in captivity, in Iraq's war camps. I was attacked, bombed and I came home, damaged but saved them all. It was rainy, rainy day, when Tomazo Fretta, walked that way. I wanted to forget it, but Miró is right. I should be proud of what I did. Not pushing it away. And I owe them, my raining men...."

September 20, 2021 17:57

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