My Dinghy is Sticky

April 27th 2025

“Brandy woke with a touch of the blues, the kind that lingers after saying goodbye to good company. The thought of Mechelle and Frank heading back to Georgia hung in the warm Florida air like a gentle sigh. ‘Safe travels, you two!’ she mentally waved, already missing their laughter.

But duty (and the frankly alarming stickiness of their new dinghy) called. This wasn’t just sticky; it was a full-on adhesive situation. Each touch left a ghostly print – less ‘owning your boat’ and more ‘evidence at a crime scene.’ After a valiant effort that likely involved more elbow grease than a 1950s car wash, the dinghy finally gleamed, blessedly fingerprint-free. ‘Alright, sticky beast tamed! Let’s go cruising, gang!’

Their maiden voyage down the New River in the freshly scrubbed dinghy felt like a secret mission. They ventured into the kind of shallow, winding waterways where larger boats dared not tread, the urban landscape slowly giving way to something a little wilder, a little more… primeval. The water, a murky blend of salt and swamp, began to take on a less inviting hue. Every ripple, every submerged log, sparked the imagination – and not in a good way. Was that a shadow? A glint of scales? The phrase ‘things that lurk beneath’ suddenly felt less like a movie title and more like a genuine concern. A collective, unspoken agreement settled over the dinghy: ‘Nope. Nope, nope, nope.’ The adventure was swiftly rerouted before anyone had a close encounter of the toothy kind.”