June 14th- Satan’s Witches Reprise by marianrose

It was the one they told most often outside of work. It had everything: sexy, blonde witches, the two of them locked in Barney Fife’s jail, red-robed Satanists chasing them through the woods at night, hand to hand combat with no blood (at least none of their own) and a comic, if not daring, rescue of a young damsel. It even had a happily ever after ending.

If Starsky was telling it, the spiders were the size of New Jersey, the bad guys were all linebackers who smelled like ten-day-old garbage, and the fish in the lake were smarter than Charlie. When Hutch told it, the spiders that scared Starsky were itty-bitty things. The bad guys were big, sure, but even dumber than the fish in the lake which, by the way, would have been caught in dozens by him, if he hadn’t had to go rescue Starsky’s crotch from the rattlesnake.

They enjoyed repeating the story. It got a lot of laughs, the way they recounted it. At least once every summer, usually around a campfire, they received requests from family and friends for yet another rendition of it. Until one summer evening, as the two of them sat by the fire, after the picnic was eaten, after everyone else had wandered off to other activities, Starsky realized no one had mentioned Pine Lake.

He tossed the stick he was fiddling with into the fading flame in front of them. “We forgot to tell the Pine Lake story,” he broke the comfortable silence that had settled on Hutch and him.

Hutch, his long legs stretched forward, opened his eyes, “They’ve heard it a million times.”

Starsky sighed in agreement but also with a touch of melancholy at the passage of time, the setting aside of old traditions, the realization that even their favorite story was no longer as compelling as the content displayed on the latest electronic device.

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Starsky said wistfully.

“It was forty years ago.”

“I wonder whatever happened to little Lizzie Tyce.”

“She turned fifty.”

“You wanna know something?”

“Hmm.”

“I still have the red long johns.”

“You do not! I was there the day your lovely wife clawed them out of your hands and finally pitched them. She knew you were never going to fit in them again despite your embarrassing crying.”

“I dug them out of the trash.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“I washed ‘em.”

“Still disgusting.”

“I loved those long johns!”

“You’re never going to fit in them again.”

Starsky conceded. It was true. He’d never fit in them again. There was no going back in time. “You gotta admit, I looked damn good in them.” Starsky twitched his eyebrows suggestively.

Hutch laughed, “You’re such a cocky bastard.”

It felt great to hear that laugh with all its joy and affection pouring out for him. It felt even better than getting all the laughs when they told the Pine Lake story to the usual large audience. “You wanna know something else?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“It’ll get your mind off the long johns,” Starsky smirked.

“OK, Tell me.”

“I don’t mind if nobody’s interested in hearing our Pine Lake story anymore. You know why? I’ll tell–”

“Yes.”

Starsky wasn’t expecting an answer, especially that one. “OK, Mr. Smartass, why don’t I mind?”

“You don’t mind because what other people know or don’t know about what we did isn’t important to you anymore. The only thing that matters now is that I know.”

He had to hand it to the guy. That was exactly right. Of course, with Hutch, there was no need to hand it to him on a silver platter, “Geez Hutch, talk about a cocky bastard.”

They grinned at each other.

“It’s the same for me, Starsk. I don’t care anymore what people know about us or whether they remember what we did. The fact that you’re still here with me, is good enough.”

Starsky let that sentiment linger as he watched his stick spark in the pit. There was a letting go in that moment but also a merging with the soft, summer night that was more than gratifying.

When Hutch began to stir about an hour later, Starsky asked, “You want another beer?“ He hoped to extend their time together a while longer.

“No thanks, I better get going. I promised to clean out the garage in the morning.”

“Don’t strain your back this time.” Starsky got up and helped douse the embers.

“Do you still want those extra brackets I’ve got?” Hutch asked. “If not, I’m going to get rid of them tomorrow.”

“No, thanks. I don’t need them. Decided not to build any new storage in my garage. Just gonna make space in those cabinets I repainted last month. Get rid of the stuff I don’t use anymore.”

“Is that where you stashed the long johns?”

“Can’t stop thinkin about ‘em, can you?”