Giant Rock

Kevin Lelja
We heard them coming before we could see them. The desert was silent aside from our occasional conversation, and their exuberant “Woos” reverberated off the jagged hills like tennis balls. Soon a cloud of dust was visible, large enough that they had to be nearing seventy on the bumpy path. We had cruised along the dirt road leading to Giant Rock, the largest free standing boulder in the world, without the speedometer topping twenty, and even then my tiny car had a rough go of it.
            A silver blur became visible, swerving through the sand as a wave of dust followed it like a cape. Their cheers grew louder and an arm waving a sloshing beer can pushed out of the driver’s side window. The tires squealed as the car was slammed to a halt just in front of the boulder. We watched in awe as they stumbled out of the car, never ceasing their cheers. The three kids, probably just a few years younger than us, immediately scrambled up the smaller chunk of boulder that had split from the huge slab of granite years before. The two men slurred at each other before the younger one noticed us. He began a shuffling jog in our direction.
            “Where you goin’?” The older man called to him.
            “Gotta meet these people!” He screamed back and proceeded to introduce himself while pumping our sweaty palms with his own. His keg-size belly was covered in an orange fuzz that brushed against us as he offered us one of his Natural Light beers.
            “No thanks. We got our own.” Brett raised his Fat Tire while eying the man’s rotting teeth.
            “Well, hey, you wanna see my kid run up the rock?” The man we now knew as Larry asked as he fondled a boil the size of a marble on his neck. Before we could reply, he bellowed, “HEY! BOBBY! SHOW THESE FOLKS HOW YEW RUN UP THE ROCK! We come here every day, you know, so he gets a lot of practice,” he hissed to us.
            Bobby slid down the rock and darted over to us, shoving his hand into ours....