Fish Lake III: End of the Journey

Randall met Kit Prug in the Fish Lake lodge, coming out of the bathroom where he'd accomplished his natural thing despite having the door of his stall kicked and rattled by some rotten little kid with muddy socks and no shoes who's father kept opening the lavatory door and asking him if he'd finished yet, loudly so as make Randall feel bad for using the stall for such an extended period of time. The little kid with muddy socks had kept saying no to his father and knocking on the door of the stall and shaking it and peeking underneath to make sure there was really someone in there, and Randall had enjoyed taking an abnormally long time.

He came out and smiled at the father with the fish lake lodge baseball cap and the weaselly eyes who didn't even look at him and walked through the big empty dining room and wondered if they were still waiting for him on the boat moared secretly in the weeds where the people on the dock couldn't see it because the Cap'n preferred secrecy and not paying fees for anything or if they'd given up and cast off and gone back out on the lake, leaving him to drink in the lodge all alone the rest of the day. As Randall enjoyed this daydream he passed the little store in the lodge and saw the Cap'n purchasing more cheap beer, and he sighed and sat down on a bench cut out of logs like everything else in the lodge so as to give visitors that old-timey camping feel when they came to purchase their candy and bait and beer and post-cards and plastic mounted singing fish, and the other person sitting on the bench was Kit Prug, who turned to Randall and said hello.

"Nice day, isn't it?" Kit Prug said to Randall. "If you like it a little rainy."
"Most people don't," Randall replied, trying to be funny because he felt threatened. He noticed that Kit Prug had a fairly large nose and cheap sherlock holmes-type hat.
"Yes indeed, they don't. Mostly they don't," replied Kit Prug, staring off into space. Randall tried not to keep looking at the sixties-style illustration on Kit Prug's t-shirt, a blonde pinup holding a coca cola. He usually avoided men who wore t-shirts or had tattoos of beautiful women. Did they want other men to look at them? "I have a theory," Kit Prug finally continued, "that people who like rain like it out of dread of outdoor events."
"Like agorophobia," Randall said.
"No," Kit Prug said. "Because they fear having to participate in any kind of sports or social events where they may be tested, and the rain causes postponements."
"I like outdoor events," Randall lied.
"You say that because you like rain?" He suddenly seemed eager, eyes sharp and glinty with excitement. "I thought so. I can read people. It's my gift." He said the word, 'gift', with a shiny far away look in his eyes. Randall's stomach, the seat of his consciousness, roiled with alarm. It looked as if the stranger in the silly hat might continue for some time.
"Looks like my friend is ready to go," Randall said, standing and pointing at the store with an apologetic smile. The Cap'n was examining the singing carp toy with a thoughtful, discerning frown. He appeared to be looking it over for a price tag.
Kit Prug looked back at him without speaking, somewhat sheepishly, as Randall hurried into the store and was immediately confronted by the short but powerfully built woman behind the till.
"Was Kit bothering you?" she asked sharply.
"Oh, no, not at all, I enjoyed our talk," Randall stuttered. She appeared very capable of embarassing confrontation and violence, and Randall feared both and had always found rain to be a blessed relief, especially in the summertime, on school days, and felt the urgent need to do his natural thing again.

On the way out of the lodge with the Cap'n clutching his new carp and cursing the overcast sky, Kit Prug accosted them and handed Randall a business card that would not change his life except for a few awkward social encounters where it provided a slightly amusing story.