The HMS Bill Reimers – Part Five

Doug sat at the end of his dock, staring through several feet of clear water at his riding lawnmower in the sand below, and pondering how completely unreasonable the people at the temp agency had been. Temp agencies—as far as Doug knew—were among the largest employers in the state of Iowa and probably the entire nation, so how could it be that their undoubtedly large list of clients didn’t contain a single person willing and able to remove his lawnmower from the Atlantic, repair whatever damage had been done to it, and mow his lawn? In Doug’s mind there were hundreds, if not thousands, of day-laborers in the Des Moines metro area that would jump at the chance to spend the afternoon in the sun, helping a monkey who clearly didn’t have the skills necessary to operate a riding lawnmower, and earning up to twenty bucks and a cold beer in the process. But the people at the temp agency wouldn’t even hear him out. He and Jake had been hurried out the door with gentle but firm assurances that the type of services they required were not the type of services offered by that agency. Doug was convinced that the unpleasant reception they had gotten was racially motivated, but was unsure whether the racism was directed toward monkeys or parrots. Either way, it was clear that his lawn was not going to get mowed.

Doug watched a small blue fish hover lazily above the lawnmower’s steering wheel. “I suppose,” he said to the fish, “that I’ll have to pay the fine and let the city take care of it. But where am I going to get the money?”

The fish didn’t offer much of a response. It did, however, give Doug what he considered his most brilliant idea to date: He would charter fishing tours to supplement his income. He had a boat, after all, that wasn’t doing anybody any good tethered to the dock. He wondered only briefly whether he would be able to drive a boat, and decided that it certainly couldn’t be as difficult as driving a riding lawnmower. There were fewer things to run into in the ocean, for starters, and you weren’t in any danger of losing control of your boat and driving it down the embankment and off the end of the dock. Yes, Doug was sure he wouldn’t have any problem maneuvering the HMS Bill Reimers around the coastal waters.

The more Doug thought about his new business venture, the more excited he got. His first step would be to have flyers printed up and post them around the pier, where the tourists hung out. He was on friendly terms with the guy in the thong that sold hotdogs at the pier and was certain he would let him tape a flyer or two to his hotdog cart.

Doug decided he had wasted too much time thinking and staring at lawnmowers, and needed to put his plan into action. He ran back to the house to find Jake and head to the copy shop. Goldenrod—he decided he would put the flyers on goldenrod paper. That would really make them stand out.