Ocean City Memories

by McJude

"I think I see it coming now."  Hercules and Iolaus had stood for ten minutes watching the luggage pile onto the conveyer belt for Flight 1027 at National Airport. 

"It would be so much easier if you would learn to get all your stuff into a carry on bag," Iolaus chided his friend.  "What do you bring for a beach weekend that you need to check that big bag.  Bathing suits, T-shirts, shaving stuff.  Hell, I have five times the number of condoms you have and I can still get them in my carry-on bag."

"I figure if I can carry it, I can bring it.  But I'm going to check it."

"Yea, but you can carry ten times as much as an ordinary man."

"Exactly.  Furthermore I don't like to have those security people going through my bag.  Touching my underwear and stuff like that."

"Yea, I remember the woman at customs holding up the boxer briefs with the holes in them and asked if they were yours.  See why you wouldn't want to go through that on a regular basis."

Hercules looked down at his shorter friend with a scowl.  He strode forward, pushing aside a couple of people, and grabbed his large black bag.  There was no doubt it was his, it weighed five times as much as any other bag on the flight.

Ares was waiting for them outside the exit, leaning against the wall.  One would have expected that he would be dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt with some band's insignia on the front.  What one would not expect was that it was the Manassas Youth Orchestra. 

"Good, I figured you would have checked something, brother.  They wouldn't let me past security to meet you at the gate." 

"Let me guess," Iolaus commented.  "Could it be that your earring looked too much like a dagger.  Or could it be that your pendant looks too much like a dagger.  Or might it possibly be that nail clipper you carry with you . . . ."

"So I like knives.  So be it."

"But what's with the shirt?"  Hercules asked.

"My daughter made me wear it.  She plays the viola.  I take it as a good thing because it gets her off that computer of hers."

Ares muttered and showed them to the black Isuzu Rodeo he had rented.  He had to fight not to strain when he threw Hercules's suitcase into the back. "You get the back seat Iolaus, I drive."

"Fine with me.  Haven't driven in the city, or on this side of the road for a while."  Iolaus commented.

"Still hanging out in Kiwi land."

"Yeppers, You can't believe all the women, I can pick up who think I am that Michael Hurst character.  So what if he is married.  They just flock around me like droves."

"Golf is good there, too."  Herc commented.  "By the way, Ares, is it still cheaper to pick up the booze here in D.C. before we head for the beach?"

"Yep, I waited for you to get here.  I can never remember the name of that scotch you drink."

"Oban, Oban, Oban. . . . how simple can it get, Ares.  I could see it were something like Glenfarclas or Clynelish. . . but Oban is as simple."

"We'll get it, Herc.  Don't sweat it."

Ares had a knack of getting the infamous D.C. traffic to part for him.  The trip to the liquor store was uneventful. 

"I may need some more condoms."  Iolaus commented.

"Condoms, my friend, you can get at the beach."  He put his foot down on the gas and pointed the car toward Annapolis, the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and Ocean City, Maryland.

"I can't believe it has been almost thirty years since we have been here."  Hercules lamented.

"It has, you guys have been busy all over the world, not wanting to come back to the USA and one of the finest beaches. . . .  I bring the family here every year.  It's just that Xena wanted to take the kids to Greece.  I couldn't get away for that long."

"The United States Senate would come to a grinding halt if the God of War were gone for six weeks?"  Hercules asked sarcastically.

"Hey, it's my job.  I do it well.  They depend on me.  Protocol has always been my specialty."

"Are you sure I have enough condoms?"  Iolaus asked.

"Yes, Iolaus.  I'm sure.  You can have mine when you run out."  Hercules tried to shut him up.

"Yours are probably so old that they . . . . "

"You can buy them there . . . everyplace sells them now, Iolaus."  Ares reassured his friend.

"Remember the last time we came?" Hercules reminisced, "we stopped at that farm market to buy corn and that guy with the beard wanted to use the bathroom.  When the owner told him it would cost him a quarter he whipped it out and peed right there on the driveway."

Ares laughed.  Even he didn't have that kind of balls.  He had gladly paid the quarter. 

"And you were fucking that guy right out of the karate kid.  What was his name?"

"Damn, if I can remember," Hercules sighed.

"All I can remember is that the Hari Krishnas were staying in the same building.  All those little boys with shaved heads and white robes.  I'm surprised they didn't recruit you, Herc."  Ares said.

"Kept us up all night with their fucking chanting. OMMMMMM OMMMMM." Hercules added.

"Not that we weren't already up all night because of the noises Iolaus was making from his bedroom." 

Iolaus grabbed a beer from behind the seat and twisted off the cap. Sitting in the back seat had its advantages.  "Want one guys."

"I can't, I'm driving."  Ares said with a smile.  "I never drink and drive."

"Since when?"

"Well, I've changed a lot in thirty years guys.  Don't want to make waves or headlines -- and certainly don't want to spend the night in jail."

Iolaus finished a six pack and leaned back, kicked off his shoes and put his feet on the top of the front seat.  Ares pushed them over to Hercules's headrest, which caused the big guy to shift in the seat to find a more comfortable position.  It seemed impossible; the feet were always in his face.

It was a long boring drive through flat farmland.  Ares popped in a Chuck Mangione CD.

"Beach music," Ares sighed.  "You talk about heavy metal, but I love the sound of big brass."

"Fluegel horns. . . . What do your kids say about you listing to that kind of music."

"Kaylynn plays the viola remember?  Dylyn's into chess.  He doesn't care about music."

"Kaylynn. . .  Dylyn?  Where did she get those names."

"Xena seems to have a thing about 'y's' this time."

"And they rhyme."

"Sort of . . . Is he always this loud."  Iolaus was snoring loudly.

"When he's been drinking, or when he's had sex.  Always been, always will.  But he sure has one hell of a good time."

"So you two still . . . you know?" 

"You know, Iolaus.  He still likes his girls and women and boys and  . . . I guess I'm lucky living in New Zealand that he was never into sheep."  He chuckled.

"So we've discussed sex, that leaves money and religion."

"Same old, same old.  Clipping coupons on old bonds and selling coins Iolaus seems to find in the bottom of suitcases.  I can't believe how much money we have made on loose pocket change."

"Yes, only Iolaus would have pocket change that is five, six, nine hundred years old."

"He found this camel bag a month or two ago.  We got almost $100,000 for the coins and $25,000 for the bag."

"Wow.  Sometimes being a packrat has its advantages.  Religion."

Hercules turned his head and watched the land go by.

"Oh, you, too?"

"Is that Embers Restaurant still there.  Shrimp a la diablo.  Hottest dish I have ever tasted in a restaurant."  Hercules did his best to change the conversation.

"That's what you get for going to a restaurant recommended by Haphaestus."

"If I remember, even the BBQ ribs were fiery.  What a place."

"It's still there, we can go one night if you want to."

"Are we there yet?"  Iolaus opened his eyes, pulled his feet down and looked across the boring countryside.

"Almost, Iolaus. About a half-hour more.  Can you hold it?" Ares asked.

Iolaus looked down, pulled the waistband of his shorts out, and surveyed his cock for a few seconds.  "Think so, Ares.  But I am going to whiz like a garden hose when we hit the condo."

"Where did I find you guys?"  Herc asked rhetorically. 

"I'm your brother.  Him, I never could figure out."


While Iolaus was in the bathroom, Ares and Hercules had changed into some of the shortest tightest and most frayed jeans shorts he had ever seen -- then he realized that he had seen them, in his own suitcase.

"I think those are my shorts, Herc.  You can't seriously go out like that.  They don't even button around the waist."

"That's the style, Iolaus. Why, not?"

"Every gay guy from here to Rehoboth beach will have a hard on over you."

"You know, I've actually tried that, Herc.  Dressed like a gay guy, you can't believe how many women want to reform you.  Teach you the 'way' so to speak,"  Ares leered. 

"Doesn't seem to work for Herc," Iolaus taunted, "maybe it's because . . . ."

"I just want to get some sun on my legs," Hercules said.

"And on your butt, and if you are not careful how you turn, on your balls.  I can't believe you are wearing my shorts, Hercules."

"So that's my bad deed for the day.  You drank a six-pack on the way out here.  We'll have to wait and see what Ares is going to do."

" But Herc, I didn't realize I was using my bad deed on the beer."

"Got to be careful not to use them up that way," Ares added.  "By the way, time for Herc and I to hit those brewskis."

They each grabbed a can and went out the patio doors to the boardwalk behind the condo. Ares pulled on the plastic rope that secured the crab trap.  When he got it to the surface he realized that not only was it empty of crabs, but that there was no bait in it either.

"Damn that Hades.  He never puts bait in the traps.  I was hoping we could have crab for dinner." Ares said.

"That's because his kids don't like killing little creatures.  I can't believe he let Perseph mold those kids into such wimps.  You’d think after what 2-300 hundred he'd get one with a set of balls," Hercules said.

"Not Hades, something about living in that cold, dark, damp place that makes the kids turn into -- Christ they are almost as bad as the Hari Krishnas,"  Ares added.

Iolaus had settled into a chaise with a beer in his hand.  "All I need is a gal and I could live like this."

"Til you run out of beer."

"Till I run out of beer and condoms."

"What are you doing, Ares?"

"My bad deed for the day. I am stealing the crabs out of the neighbor's crab trap."

Carolyn Graham couldn't believe her eyes when she looked out the patio window.  "Marcy, come over here, look at those guys next door."  Her friend joined her with a doubting look on her face.

"They sure look like the same guys.  Can't be though.  Remember how they used to line fish for crabs.  Throw them up on the board walk and chase after then?"  Close to thirty years and over fifty pounds had not dulled her memory of that summer.

"Remember that afternoon when Susan and the dark one were in the bathroom fucking.  He was sitting on the toilet and she was sitting on him.  No wonder there was a line for the facility."

"Remember that day that I said that I was too tired to go to the beach.  I spent the day in bed.  What I didn't tell you was that the little blonde guy was here with me,"  Marcy added.

"I know, you left condoms hanging from the lamps by the bed.  They were deducted from my damage deposit.  I figured you must have had a good time, and that your husband didn't need to know about it."

"Thanks girlfriend. I wonder if these guys are their sons or something -- they don't look as if they have aged."

"But we definitely have," Carolyn sighed, "and to think, my daughter is coming in tomorrow."

"Boy, I bet you wish she were here tonight."

"I wonder which one she would go for?  Gods, Marcy what kind of a mother wonders what stranger her daughter is going to end up fucking on vacation."

"I don't know, probably the kind that wishes she could still get one of those hot numbers to look at her. If I remember right, I spend most of that vacation cooking chicken with walnuts and green grapes with the big blonde one.  I always wondered if he was gay."

"I'm not sure, maybe one of them would like another beer or a nice cold Lynchburg lemonade.  I might go out and check."

The End