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Today |
.I enjoy the fishing. You're at the beach, there's a pier involved, and the ocean … she's a bountiful. I don’t know if you know this … and I'm letting the cat out of the bag in a big way here … but the fishies you catch in the ocean … they're free. You don't have to pay for them … Small Korean women are literally pulling these suckers out of the Pacific. I went fishing this evening with my boss, Nestor. Several fish were caught. I gave them to the boss man, though. I have no use for the fish. I took a picture of the view from the pier, you know, for posterity. There was this real irritating kid fishing at the pier.
This is the kid in school that thought he was really smart, but in actuality he wasn't that bright at all. His parents probably sent him to live with cousins for the summer just to get some time away from this freakazoid. He's the kid that will try to learn French and quit after getting bored, but not before he commits a few translated Christmas carols to memory. Come December he breaks into these tunes at the Christmas party. Friends of his parents are very impressed and say things like, "Dear Lord! He can sing "Oh Holy Night" in Freeenncchh! But Mom's so whacked out on Xanax and bourbon, she has no idea what the kid is babbling. And the father's in the spare bedroom doing the maid. Anyway, every time this kid caught a scaly sea-dweller, he'd announce it to the whole fucking pier. He caught a lot of fish. "Got one." He reels out again. "Got one." Again, with the reeling… "Got one." Listen up, you little fucker, nobody cares if you caught another fish! People were getting visibly annoyed with this kid. The worst part was that he had a posse of two or three preteen compatriots that thought this kid was the greatest thing ever. "Whoa, James caught ANOTHER fish! He's the King, man … King of the people who catch fish on a consistent basis," down-syndromes one. "Tell me about it! He can catch the fuck out of fish!" "James … I pine for you," says another as tears of awe streamed down his face. "James", tried making small talk with anyone who'd give him the time of day. Eventually, the cocky little bastard sauntered up to me. "Are you catching many fish?" he asked knowing full fucking well I had not caught any fish as of that moment. "Um, not yet. See, I got here 45 seconds ago." "Really? 45 seconds ago. Wow, that's cool. I'm more of a 37 second type of guy myself, but 45 is good, you know, if you're into that sort of thing." I thought, "I will pound you're pube-less, 14-year-old ass into the timbered planks of this pier." But I replied, "Uh, listen, I'm kind of busy right now, you know, not catching fish. So … you know … coudja…" "Oh, yeah, that's cool, guess I'll just wa- Whoa! Did you see that? Four fish just jumped up from the water and into my pockets, and their wearing little diamond-encrusted tiaras! It must be my lucky day!" Four bejeweled fish had, indeed, mustered up the strength to brake free from their watery prison and leapt gleefully … yes, gleefully … into this smarmy kids pants. At one point, the fish had stopped biting on the windward side of the pier. Nestor decided to try his luck on the other side … right next to my pal, James. "Um, EXCUSE ME. You took my spot," said James. Nestor just kind of looks at this kid with his cold Pilipino eyes. I've seen this look before. It's what I like to call his "Viet Nam Eyes." Sure, Nestor didn't actually witness the horrors of Viet Nam, but he was in the Navy for a while, and you're bound to experience some weird shit being on the ocean with a boat full of dudes for months at a time. So let's give him the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, Nestor asks the kid's age. "I'm 14!" "Look, you little prick, I was out here fishing way before you were born. This is MY spot. "Oh, okay … sorry sir," stammered the little bugger. I'm going to carry a bitter hatred for that kid with me until the day that I die. Good night!
It's insane, this guys taint - 2004-12-07 |