In college, I’m pretty sure during the Summer of Starvation, I had a dumb idea for a story involving cowboys washing up on a beach. I even shot a video of it with my brothers in Rockaway, although a park ranger quickly chased us away, and most of the footage didn’t record properly. Somehow the video ended up being the weird Iron Maiden-soundtracked thing at the bottom of this post. The other day, while at the laundromat, it popped back into my head. Below is the nonsense that resulted from me revisiting this idea.
“I told you seahorses were a bad idea.”
The Coug and Darius Rivera step out of the ocean and onto the shore. Through his binoculars, Lil’ Kev watches.
“Where do you reckon we are?” Rivera says.
“You know how I feel about you saying reckon.”
“Fine. Where does The Coug believe we are?”
“I reckon I have no idea.”
Lil’ Kev climbs down from his lifeguard chair, puts his whistle in his mouth and blows.
Coug places his right hand on his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun.
“Why is he making that sound? Can he not speak?”
“Want me to punch him in the face?” Rivera says.
Rivera walks toward the lifeguard chair.
Lil’ Kev removes the whistle from his mouth.
“Excuse me, sir. That is not appropriate swimwear.”
“You can speak?”
“Of course I can speak!”
“Then why the high-pitched noise?”
“It’s a whistle. It is how the lifeguard maintains order in a world gone mad.”
“The Coug doesn’t like it.”
Rivera rears back and punches Lil’ Kev in the face.
“Owwwwwww! Why did you do that?”
“Why did you blow the whistle?”
“Because of the boots, jeans, T-shirts. A hat! Not appropriate for swimming in our beautiful ocean.”
“We weren’t swimming. We were traveling. Riding.”
“Riding from where?”
Rivera helps Lil’ Kev off the ground.
“Sorry” Rivera says. “Coug’s orders.”
“I am a boy who is not calm with you.”
Lil’ Kev throws the whistle to the ground.
“I,” Kevin says, “am a boy who is not calm with you.”
“I heard that part.”
“Not calm with you.”
Lil’ Kev punches Rivera in the face. Rivera falls to the ground. Kev climbs to his lifeguard chair. He points his fingers to the sky. He leaps, his elbow connecting with Rivera’s solar plexus as he crashes to the ground.
The Coug approaches.
“I reckon you shouldn’t have done that,” he says.
“Go back to Texan.”
“You are not wearing the proper attire for this beach. Go back to Texan.”
“Do you even know where Texan is? Do you even know what Texan is?”
“And why is that?”
“Because I have a whistle. And because I am a boy who is not calm with you.”
“We were told we would meet you here,” The Coug says. “It was prophesized we would find ‘The Boy Who was Not Calm with Us.’”
“I’m sure it was.”
“Do you want to know why we’re here?”
“Not until you change into proper beach attire.”
**** TO BE CONTINUED?!?!?!?! ****