This’ll make you smile …
Neath icy blue skies the morning tide laps against the rocky shore. The last rays of the silvery moon reflect in the waters. A calm serenity of nature if ever there was one. And yet the rippling waves bring with them a frigid truth. That which is beautiful is also deathly cold. Those who would bask beneath the rising sun this day would do so beneath an Eskimo’s coat if they had any sense.
🎵’Through wind and —hic — and rain we sailed. Hic — the boat-hic-we brought to shore, and oh, the water —hic — we bailed’🎵
“Fer goodness sake!” Roe complained. He spun on his flukes to see a drunken man stagger into view. The bladdered fellow tumbled over a rock, rose and fell on his arse in the sand. Somehow doing so without dropping his whisky bottle.
🎵‘The boat -hic- still sank but we the sail-hic-lors didn’t care! We were pissed and we —hic — drank all the rum and beer! Ha-hic-ha!’🎵
Roe sighed, he loved the old rocky beach in winter. Nobody ever came here to disturb him – usually. Today, was to be one of those —off days.
🎵‘When mawnin’ —hic— came, the room did spin!’🎵 the drunk sang at the top of his lungs as he rose to his feet. He opened his mouth and gasped.
“If you don’t shut your crab trap, I’ll knock you on your chin!” rhymed Roe.
“Erp-scuse me. Thas not the right words.” The drunk pointed way left of him. “Want me ta teach yer how it goose?”
“Goose? No, I bloody well don’t. You shattered the peace like a hammerhead shark through a coral reef. Now clear off.” Roe glared at him.
The drunk lifted his whisky to his lips and poured the golden liquor down his chin and all over his sandy shirt. “Not ferry friendly are —hic — yah!” he went wide-eyed and fell over again. “Well, looky here, you gotta tail!”
Roe groaned, closed his eyes and shook his head.
“You should moist-hic-urise your tail, sir. It’s scaly.” The drunk reached out to touch—
“Get off!” Roe swished his tail across the sand away from the drunk.
“Begging your apologi-hic-seas.” The drunk made to sit on a rock, fell right over the back and settled with his feet in the air against it. “Ahh, this is comfy.”
“Won’t be in a minute,” Roe remarked a grin spreading over his blue face.
The tide was still coming in. A gentle wave rolled up the beach right over the drunk’s head.
“Pah! Yaa – Waa! What happened?” he spluttered.
“You’re lying on the beach, you fluke-less hake!”
“You could have warned me.” The drunk staggered out of the water.
“Stopped you hiccoughing anyway,” Roe remarked. “You a sailor?”
“Used to be Second Officer Ronnie Johnson.” The drunk made to salute, poked himself in the eye and looked miserable. “Owch! Now, I’m Washed-up Ronnie.”
“Discharged for drunk and disorderly, were you?” Roe had begun to feel sorry for the man. The odd feeling left him wanting to know more.
“How’d you know?” Ronnie staggered about and pointed left of him.
“Just a wild stab in the shark, you know.”
“Did you tell on me?” Ronnie made fists like a punch-drunk boxer. “I’ll beat yer pup if you did.”
“Beat my pup? Sit down you, flounder. You’ll probably punch yourself in the face if you try to hit me.” Roe remarked with a chuckle.
“I er – yeah alright. I don’t feel too good, anyway. So, I’ll let you off this time.” Ronnie sat on a rock.
“Anyway, me and the boy were having a good old party. Smithee was retiring see. I don’t all the details but I ended up starkers save for a Jolly Roger tied to —” Ronnie blushed with an odd grin. “Well you can imagine where it was tied to, can’t you?”
“Mhm, thanks for sparing me the details.” Roe flexed his tail. “No wonder you’re as cockle-eyed as a clownfish.”
“Yup, my respect is all gone. I’m all washed-up.” Ronnie missed his mouth with his whisky again and hurled the bottle into the sea.
“Not yet you’re not. If you fall into the water like this; you might be, though.” Roe told him. “You have to sleep this off, go get yourself an honest job and a lady. Prove yourself to be —”
Ronnie’s head slumped and he fell off the rock.”
Roe flicked his flukes and crawled around the rock to check on him. “Out like a limpet. You’ll have a headache in the morning, pal.” Roe dove into the water and returned with the whisky bottle. He put it in Ronnie’s top pocket. “Stay sober until October, my friend. You’re stronger than you know and the less drink you consume the better your life will go.”
Ronnie woke up later in the day. He had a rotten headache, sunburn and a message to ‘Stay sober until October,’ playing in his addled mind. “Mermaid! Was I talking to a male mermaid this morning?” Ronnie took out the whisky bottle. “This must have been terrible stuff. He hurled the bottle and went down the pub.
“Some people never learn.” Roe shook his head and vanished into the serenity of the deep blue sea.
Have a great day!