Beach Patrol. Flash Fiction.

James Brogley liked the beach. A short pale, flabby guy, he felt the lifeguard uniform gave off heroic vibes. He wore the long-sleeved jersey and pants rather than the speedos. He spent his days on

James Brogley liked the beach. A short pale, flabby guy, he felt the lifeguard uniform gave off heroic vibes. He wore the long-sleeved jersey and pants rather than the speedos.

He spent his days on Bondi Beach, well away from the real lifeguards as once he had been stopped to explain why he was not helping save a floundering woman nearby.

The truth was that he could not swim and was terrified of the surf. However, the power of the red and gold attire intoxicated him. He had found the uniform online.

He thrived on directions: “Why, of course, the toilets are over there!” James would royally inform beachgoers. His charade came to an end when a young woman dragged to shore needed the kiss of life. James was the only “lifeguard” nearby. Knowing nothing about first aid, he cowardly mumbled something about needing to move his car and fled.