soggy gary
camille seldin
Bereaved and despairing, Gary came to the realization that he would not be able to afford any kind of private aircraft by the time his highschool reunion rolled around. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he always knew a massive jet might lie just outside the realm of possibility but he never ruled out something small and sensible. Something like the two-seat bush planes Harrison Ford flies and occasionally crashes. He even might have settled for a modest helicopter which offered both flight and the obnoxious display of flight. His savings, however, could barely cover the cost of a used wingsuit that he found on eBay- an idea which he later scrapped because the highschool had no surrounding buildings tall enough to warrant its use (his interest in surviving his flight outweighed his pride, though not by much).
Five years ago, Gary graduated highschool. He had been generally tolerated among his classmates and had a relatively easy time, though he would never admit it. If anyone asked, highschool was an endless barrage of torment and misery from those who simply could not understand him. If you were to ask anyone else, however, chances are they’d either ask who you were talking about or they’d remember him as the guy who gave an unsolicited speech at graduation detailing his inscrutable plans for the future. Specifically, when his name, Gareth Conners, was called, he proceeded to walk onto the stage, shake the principal’s hand, lean into the microphone, and announce that “these bitches don’t know what’s coming because in 5 years I’m flying right into the reunion, then you’ll all be sorry.” The initial shock this display impressed upon the audience was short lived, however, because, since his name was high in the alphabet, there were still about 458 more names to announce after his own. By the time Kelly Yang collected her diploma, his classmates could barely remember the content of his statement.
Gary, himself, had honestly forgotten about the whole thing as well until about a year ago when he awoke in a cold sweat muttering that the second best day to plant a tree is right now. He immediately began saving. His internship only allowed him a small stipend for food every week so his savings mainly consisted of his remaining graduation money, birthday money, and very crumpled and disfigured money he found in the pockets of pants that had gone through the washing machine. “Mom, can you PLEASE check the pockets before you wash my pants!?”
“I believe it’s still legal tender even if it's a little messed up.”
“But now it’s not CRISP.”
Gary was frankly so disturbed by the texture of these dollars that many found themselves in the trash rather than his savings jar. All these dollars added up to about $300 saved. Just shy of the amount needed to buy a plane. Gary checked back through his finances, hoping to find some hidden fund. He did not, though he did find that he could increase his savings to $320 if he ate nothing but Nerds Ropes for the remainder of the month, which, for reasons far too complex to describe here, he had in abundance.
Settling in for a depressive episode, he turned on the tv just as a commercial began to play. “Did you recently make a vague statement about your ability to fly?. . .”
“Not really, it was 5 years ago”
“. . .For scale, the parameters of this question indicate any statements made within the last 10 years as ‘recent’. . .”
“Well then yes, this was very recent.”
“For only $319.99, that vague statement can be a reality! With [REDACTED] you can be lighter than air! Buy now and show all those losers what’s up!”
Gary was elated. He recognised a good deal when he saw one and, though this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he said he would fly to the reunion, his ambiguity did not rule this out as an option. He placed his order right away.
In the four ensuing business days, Gary spent every moment envisioning his flight. The commercial had been awfully vague about what [REDACTED] actually was, and Gary filled that informational void with all manner of dainty, weightless ideas. He saw a beverage like the Fizzy Lifting Drinks from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and himself effortlessly rising and falling with a system of controlled burps—a skill which he had already perfected. He saw a walkie talkie with a direct line to God, himself. Gary believed he possessed both the charisma and rhetorical force that might compel God to send down some kind of invisible griffin (named Griffin), that only he could see, that would bear Gary up gently in his talons before emitting a CAW and swooping him away to the high school. Gary saw a magical umbrella like in Mary Poppins. . . Mary Poppins. Mary Poppins. Gary thought on the name for a moment. His great failure. Ol’ Soggy Liz.
Gary had christened Liz Johnson “Soggy Liz '' during their freshman year of highschool when a gland disorder rendered poor Liz a sweaty jumble of a girl at all hours of the day. Her clothes were damp, her hair was damp, her backpack was damp, and everytime she stood up from her seat there was a little puddle left behind like the calling card of a very nervous, very sweaty art thief. Though this might seem like prime fodder for some classic high school bullying, most of the kids in school were actually very sensitive to her plight. That is, of course, except for Gary. “Soggy Liz'' was a nickname that prevailed only in Gary’s mouth and Liz’s ears. This name actually caught on so poorly that whenever Gary mentioned “Soggy Liz '' in passing, his classmates would continually ask to whom he was referring till he eventually harkened back to her Christian name. Anyways, Mary Poppins. Gary, as you know, is often given to what can only be adequately referred to as “publicity stunts,” though they were rarely remembered. There was the thing at the pep rally, the thing on the morning announcements, the thing at the Model UN Summit, and who could forget the thing at the swim meet? (The answer is “most people''). Gary had arrived at the swim meet fresh after his first and last viewing of Mary Poppins. He was obviously dressed in a tuxedo, top hat, and duck-handle umbrella and he had crunched the numbers. Gary was almost certain that if he fell from a height of 3 meters with an open umbrella, physics would prevail and he would fly. The swim meet was the perfect opportunity. The high-dive was 10 feet up and, if by some cruel trick of fate his math was wrong and he plummeted to the earth, he would land safely in the pool. His interest in surviving his flight outweighed his pride, though not by much. The meet would also have spectators. Students, parents, visiting teams. Witnesses to his incredible feat.
At what would be called “half-time” in any other sport, Gary toiled up the high-dive ladder and the spectators and swimmers evacuated the pool area to line up at the snack bar, where Cathy’s mom was serving up Tacos-in-a-Bag. No matter. Gary waddled down the board, fully tuxedoed. Umbrella, engaged. Determined and confident. He took a deep breath before stepping off the board. To be completely fair, the umbrella floated down pretty gracefully. Gary’s sweaty hands, however, had lost grip of it almost instantly. His body careened into the water, followed by his top hat, followed by his umbrella.
What ensued was the classic portrait of a failed man, wringing out his tuxedo jacket before putting his top hat back on. But his hat is still filled with water and there’s also a fish in there inexplicably and he’s just as damp as he was before. Luckily, there were very few people around to see. Unluckily, there was one person. Ol’ Soggy Liz had remained in her seat for fear of leaving behind her signature puddle and she saw everything. Emboldened by the literal downfall of her great tormenter, Liz rose from the bleacher and shouted down to Gary with fire in her eyes and pure disdain in her squeaky voice.
“Who’s soggy now, you clammy bastard!”
The day of the reunion Gary tracked the package with hawk-like intensity. Fed-Ex claimed it had been shipped out from the distribution center in Centerville but Gary feared the truck carrying it might’ve gotten washed away in a flash flood. The clouds were already beginning to cluster over his house when the package finally arrived. Gary had never opened a box so quickly in his life. He considered the whole thing very legitimate. For starters, it arrived on a truck in a box, which all seemed very above board. Second, it came with a detailed list of warnings and instructions, which he doubted they would have included if this hadn’t been tested and peer reviewed. Gary glanced over the warnings, which appeared to emphasize the danger of flying in the rain. Gary looked outside and saw the storm clouds forming. He figured that if he timed it right, he could probably make it to the reunion in time to make an impressive entrance before the rain began. He was proud of himself for taking what he believed was just the right amount of precaution because, as I mentioned, his interest in survival outweighed his pride, though not by much.
The [REDACTED], itself, appeared to be a sort of cream. Gary debated for a minute whether to apply the cream with his clothes on or off but finally decided that he wanted the weight to be gone from his entire look and did not want his clothes to weigh him down so, to be safe, he drenched his entire self- clothes and all- in the cream. When he was done, he looked as though he had just been born wearing a suit but he hoped that his former classmates would be too in awe of his miraculous flight to notice his slimy exterior.
A trial run around his backyard revealed that the feeling of being lighter than the air around you feels a lot like swimming, but in this case every time he took a breath he descended just a little and exhaling let him float higher. When he felt comfortable with the dynamics he swam his way over to the highschool. This proved to be a much more physically exhausting endeavor than he had anticipated and when he finally arrived at the doors he was sweating like a chubby sixth grader beating the odds in the Fitnessgram Pacer Test.
To say his classmates were impressed would be a devastating understatement. Especially considering most of them forgot he had even made that speech at graduation so this was all very out-of-the-blue. He did a few tricks and swoops and floated around giving out high fives until he saw her. Liz Johnson stood out from the crowd, once soggy, now torrid and moistureless after a few rounds of a particularly aggressive medication wiped out her sweat glands.
“Just how high can you go, Soggy Gary?”
Gary cringed. He was soggy, wasn’t he? He was already high off the attention and very eager to impress. Now this challenge from his great enemy only sharpened his resolve. He didn’t notice the sky growing darker.
“Watch this!”
Gary closed his eyes and felt the rain beginning to fall. He ignored it and exhaled all the air out of his lungs. He floated higher and higher until he could no longer hear the gasps and shouts from his loyal subjects. When he couldn’t exhale anymore he opened his eyes and found himself inside a cloud. The air was thin and he found that, compared to it, he didn’t feel as light anymore. He took shallow breaths to try to let himself down slowly but began to feel moisture collecting on his slimy clothes. He remembered learning about the water cycle in his middle school science class. The water evaporates and floats into the sky where it collects in the clouds, but when the water molecules get to know each other a little too well, they become too heavy for the air around them. Gary tried to sweep the water off but to know avail. After a few seconds he was completely surrounded by water and a few moments later he dropped.
A large smack resounded through the school as Gary hit the water flat. Fortunately, the rain broke the tension on the surface of the pool and he managed to survive with a smushed nose, broken ribs and a very very very red front side. Liz later told the paper that she remains hauned by the image of a “soaking wet man, dressed in a suit, blood streaming from his nose, crawling out of the pool, mumbling ‘I’m Soggy Gary, I showed you bitches.’”
Soggy men never are dried
And Gary will never subside.
If this tale affects you,
Then let me direct you,
Your life is worth more than your pride.
