Timepiece
Chapter 29

Copyright© 2015 by Old Man with a Pen

SNICK “Oof” SWISH “Huh” (What is the sound of a man with a shovel in sand?)SNICK “Oof” SWISH “Huh” SNICK “Oof” SWISH “Huh” SNICK “Oof” SWISH “Huh” “Shit” Whack whack Whack “Fuckin roots.” ThudSNICK “Oof” SWISH “Huh” (The SNICK is the sound of the shovel pushed into the sand; the Oof is a foot putting some weight on the shovel blade; the SWISH is the blade of the shovel thrust as deep as it will go; the Huh is the man exerting energy and the extrication of the sand and the toss out of the hole being dug) What?

We finished our meal at the Antler and strolled the park next door. We meandered our way around the north pool and idled our steps out the north pier.

“Catching any?” we asked the fishermen.

“Yes, a few,” said a man in bibs.

“Nope, must be the wrong bait,” said an impatient teenager.

“Had a bite but it got off,” were several other responses ... until we arrived at the odd beacon at the very end of the pier ... There we got a, “Hell yeah, Coho out in the rocks. Have a look,” she said, pointing at a wire fish safe chained to a bollard. Yup ... two or three three or four pounders; legal ... but just.

The Powers grinned and the fisherwoman cast. She reeled and a ten or twelve pounder struck the silver bait.

“Holy Shit!”

The salmon put on an aerial display. It was very entertaining.

“Shit shit shit!” she exclaimed as the good sized fish tail walked along the surface. We enjoyed the moment and moved on.

The walk out to the big lake was channel side of the pier, the walk back to the beach was beach side of the pier.

“Somebody grab that net! I need some help.”

Shush wash The tiny waves said as they eased their way to the beach. Shush washShush washShush wash

The muted conversation at the end of the pier faded as the tiny waves became louder as they rushed to the beach... Shush washShush washShush wash The land breeze kicked up and drowned out the sound of the waves.

“I’ll spring for push tubes at the concession stand,” I suggested. Push tubes are a beach favorite; ice cream in a plastic coated cardboard tube. The tube keeps the sand out of the ice cream; very practical. The bottom end has a cardboard wafer. Push the bottom of the tube and the ice cream is presented like toothpaste or lipstick.

With push tubes there’s no argument ... everybody gets the same sized serving. Usually, the tubes come in Vanilla, Chocolate or Strawberry but the Mears State Park concession stand was supplied by the local creamery and local Peach, Blacksweet Cherry, and Plum flavors are available in season.

I have a time choosing between the Peach or the Cherry. It’s a tough decision.

Wendy likes Plum ... Ick.

The Powers can never make a choice that suits all of them ... so ... while we were in the shadows between the pier and sandy beach ... they disincorporated. Instead of four push tubes I had to buy ten! No Fair! Twenty five bucks! At least there’s no tax on food.

Wendy said, “When I was a kid, the tubes were a dime ... now they’re two fifty. David ... you got screwed.”

The Powers grinned. In that seven part harmony they have perfected, they sang, “Thank you, David.”

Wow ... thanks from the gods. That’s a switch.

Then they dissolved into an argument over which flavor was better.

I licked my black-sweet cherry and stayed out of it. I already know ... Today it’s cherry ... tomorrow ... it’s peach.

Hmm ... I counted heads. Seven gods, Wendy, me ... that’s nine.

“Where’s Annabelle?”

“She stayed at the concession stand,” Wendy said. “She fell in lust with the counter guy.”

“Which one?”

“Which one?”

“They’re twins. Which one?”

“Really? Twins? She’s pretty horny and you won’t help her out ... she’ll probably take ‘em both on,” Wendy sounded wistful.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, David. You’re pretty boring lately.”

That got me the Mom look from all seven of the Powers.

Great, Wendy. Just great.

SNICK “Oof” SWISH “Huh” SNICK “Oof” SWISH “Huh” SNICK “Oof” SWISH “Huh”

“Surely that’s deep enough.”

“Not for two.”

 
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