March Challenge|Keeley Schroder|
The Upright Fish
March Madness Challenge: Favorite Green Animal or Fish!
Response to Keeley Schroder’s March Challenge.
The Upright Fish
One of the rarest of the species is green, sometimes gold.
This story begins and stays in South Africa.
Well, that’s not exactly true, it started with a phone call.
I felt a gentle tug on my shoulder. “Kelly, your phone is vibrating, honey,” Jenny says. It is coming up to 3 a.m.
I pick up my iPhone: “Whoever this is, it better be a matter of life or death.”
“Harry, shut the fuck up and listen,” the voice says. It’s not a voice I’m likely to forget, it’s always smiling, always raspy, and if a director ever wanted a voice for a mafia boss… anyway, you get what I’m saying.
“Duggie, what the fuck, man, where are you?”
“South Africa. What are you doing tomorrow?”
I look at my iPhone, “It is fucking tomorrow!”
“Cool, get Jenny out of bed, catch a flight, I’ll show you something you’ve never seen.”
“Wait, what?” I asked him to repeat.
“Get the fuck out of bed…”
“Okay, okay, I heard that bit… where are you?” I asked again.
“South Africa.”
“Funny, that’s what I thought you said. Are you fucking having me on?” I asked him, still in a deep sleep.
Jenny, hearing one side of the conversation is clearly piqued, leaning in, and there’s nothing quite like the feel of a woman who is warm and naked.
“What is it, honey?” She asks.
“It’s Duggie, he wants us to go to South Africa.”
Without hesitation, she says, “that’s nice, when?”
“Today!” I tell her. She laughs and falls onto her back. Fuck, I want to jump her bones now I’m wide awake.
Duggie is talking into one of my ears, Jenny in the other. “Duggie, shuddup a minute.” I look over my shoulder.
I tell Jenny, looking at the way her breasts flatten over her ribs. “He’s out there working on oil rigs. Something has got up his arse and he wants us to come there, ASAP.”
“Is he okay?” Jenny’s first concern is always to ask how a friend is, fearing a call in the early hours must be bad news. She ignores my woody.
“He’s fine. He might be drunk…” I suggest.
“I heard that,” Duggie says, “I’m working, just get your arse over here. Fly into Cape Town, get a shuttle flight down to Cape Agulhas. The weather for the next five days is perfect, after that, no chance,” he says.
“What the hell, Duggie, are you in trouble, it’s 3 am in California,” I tell him, convinced he’s drunk.
At 5 p.m. that same day/evening we take off for South Africa, having an overnight stop in Dubai. It is a civilized place, has a hotel inside airport. I call Duggie from the hotel.
Two days after the first phone call we arrive in Cape Agulhas and find a hotel. It is 7:30 a.m.
If Duggie was green, I would be writing this about him. The man is an animal. Think of something that can kill you in a nano second and Duggie has done it. Take one good long look at his face, fall into his smile — you aint never coming out.
For the last seven years Duggie has been working on oil rigs around the world and enjoys snorkeling wherever the waters permit. Off the shore is the Citrus Reef where the rarest of seahorses gather.
The Knysna seahorse is the most endangered, being the rarest of all. It is a beautiful upright fish, and very friendly. After two days snorkeling, spending a few hours in their midst, we could feed them by hand, or else they would attach themselves to our fingers and sit there, and just like horses they will flare their nostrils, heads held high, bugle faces so dear as to be heartbreaking.
We can learn a lot from Seahorses except how to swim. Your normal Seahorse is a fucking terrible swimmer. Picture a drunk on a hill, one step forward and eleven steps back if he hasn’t fallen arse over tit first. Seahorses stumble all the time, grabbing onto anything that’s floating by to save themselves.
Once the female has provided the egg, the know-it-all dad takes over the pregnancy and is the one who gives birth. By the way, not to be a showoff, he does it standing upright. Clever bastard.
Seahorses mate for life even after a one-night stand. For life, not a week, a month, or until she’s lost her job and cannot buy the beer. For life, better or worse.
When things get rough, they don’t part, they hang onto each other for dear fucking life. Seahorses often wrap their tails around one another, so they don’t get separated in a strong current. When you see it, they look like Laurel and Hardy on Come Dancing.
Four days after arriving we were on our way back. Duggie was doing his thing. We never hear from Duggie one year to the next. He’ll call and speak like he saw you yesterday. Or he won’t call, and you fear he’s dead, which is fine.
He isn’t living to be safe in his bed.
March Madness Challenge: Join Keeley and write to each of her daily challenges.
Participants:
Adrienne Beaumon, Autistic Widower (“AJ”), Brett Jenae Tomlin, The Sturg, Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles, Richard Bailey, Marilyn Flower, Trisha Faye, Karen Schwartz, NancyO, Robert G. Longpré — [he/him] — Canadian métis, Katie Michaelson, Bernie Pullen, Laure Dorsemaine, Debika Kumari, Michelle Jimerson Morris, redkitewrites, Celia McKinley, Charisse Tyson, Julie KingGood, Amy Frances, Julia A. Keirns, Ravyne Hawke, Pamela Oglesby, Toni the Talker, Cathy Cremer, Tina, Kayla Tackett, Pat Romito LaPointe, C Cap1, Anna Itzel Cazita, K., Brandon, Misty Rae, Karen Hoffman, Deb Palmer, Susie Winfield, Vincent Pisano, Paari, Marlene Samuels
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