IT STARTED OUT AS ANOTHER HANGOVER... (Attack of the Giant Red Octopus)
It was a warm
early dawn when he awoke to go fishing out on the vastness of the Ocean.
As he neared the Bay, the air became cold and the sky enveloped in fog.
It always surprised him how
it was so warm only a quarter of a mile or so from the bay... sun shining bright but once within the Bays grasp... cold and
dark. The Bay...full of enormous Sea Turtles and the
breeding ground of the Great White Shark was indeed a dangerous place. He boarded the ship with a silent, cold shiver.
He was here to catch rock fish and maybe a Salmon. Good for the body... Good for the soul.
With the starting of the ancient Diesel engine, the smoky exhaust hidden in the fog,
he began to smell the fish he was after.
The ship shuddered as it
began to move it's massive girth out to Sea.
The fishing bed was 12 miles out...
He sat upon a cooler full of beer in the cold
darkness with teeth chattering.
He drifted off as if cocooned in the spray of the salt water drying his lips. Through the
now bitter winds and gut squeezing swells, the ship moved on.
He was awakened startily
by the shouts of the crew.
In the first moments of his now focusing eyes, he saw the massive Whale only 30 feet from starboard,
rolling on the surface.
It was as if the Giant Mammal would overturn the ship...
Calm eventually returned
when the Beast submerged and was seen no more.
Finally... amidst bitter winds and cold, the Captain announced that the destination was reached.
He began to tie up his fishing gear, with now frozen hands, wishing he had done it the night before
but the night before had been a escapade of beer and women.
Using his chattering teeth
as tools to assist his frozen hands, he eventually rigged up his line and baited his hooks with frozen squid. With the help of a 1 pound ball of lead, he lowered his baited hooks into the depths of the
Ocean.
The fishing was as fast and furious
as the Ocean was violent. He landed fish after fish while being thrown about the deck. Putting them in a burlap bag which he constantly kept secured yet still had to search
for in the Ocean that was now consuming the deck of the ship.
Suddenly there was a cry of
horror and alarm from the fisherman on the starboard side...
He looked at the small Philipino man who was shouting in words he could not understand but in
a way that every fisherman knows is serious.
Suddenly the danger appeared,
rushing towards him in the surf now upon the deck. A giant red Demon... grabbing, lashing and screaming in the
intensity of a demonic anger.
Men were screaming loudly though barely audible over the wind and waves.
The rushing surf was carrying
the Demon straight towards him yet
his only reaction was to be thrown by the waves and wind.
Thrown onto his back
near a cooler of shaken beer... he was unable to escape as the Demon advanced. In an instant the Demon had atached itself to him with its suction cups of death.
Fellow Fisherman tried to rend
immediate aid but were thwarted by the constant pounding of the wind and waves.
He tried frantically to free himself but to no avail. His frozen hands simply
lacked the strength to combat the Demons slippery flesh.
With survival at stake, he reached
for his fishing knife as the Demon turned increasingly red while making sharp clicking noises with it's ravenous, flesh
eating beak.
A giant wave crashed over
the deck, stinging his eyes with salt and washing him closer to the deck rail of the ship, the only thing separating him from
the depths of the Ocean.
Though temporarily blinded... he
continued to search for his knife only to discover that the Demon had his knife pinned against his body within a demonic grip
of death.
Struggling against the inevitable... He paused, as if to try and breathe the salt water out of his lungs.
His will apparantly subdued,
caused the Demon to sense victory and increase the intensity of its grip. He heard the sound of the Ocean... and the cry of the incessant Gulls that are always squacking
for bait...
He began to feel warm within this frozen environment and grip of death.
He drifted off, as if on
a cloud far above the Sea...
Not knowing that at that very moment fellow fishermen had reached him and were cutting the Demon
from his body.
He was unaware of the screams
as the Demon was killed and one life was traded for another.
He lay, as if lifeless for
hours in the cabin he was carried to, his bag of fish placed next to him... honored by fellow fishermen.
As the ship grated into a
safe harbor, he awoke in calmer seas and gentle breezes.
He thanked his fellow Fishermen by offering them his catch which they refused.
The gesture was respected
and understood within the unspoken bond of fishermen.
As he left the ship and began
walking upon the dock, he once again heard the cries of incessant
Gulls and knew that the sunshine and warmth was only a quarter a mile away.
He smiled as he pulled some
squid out of his pocket and tossed it to the screaming Gulls... their cries sounding more like music than ever before.
RW Desperado 1989
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