Surfing the Pond
“That,” said Wednesday, driving off, “is the eternal folly of man. To be chasing after the sweet flesh, without realizing that it is simply a pretty cover for the bones. Worm food. At night, you’re rubbing yourself against worm food. No offence meant.” Neil Gaiman, American Gods.
The Sun was rising lazily over the distance, a hurricane was brewing over the horizon, the winds picking up pace. The serenity of the ocean broken by the washing machine effect of the waves. The surf not quite formed, but was starting to take shape, plenty of road humps. Only two guys had paddled out there, considered fools by most, waiting for that perfect moment out in the middle of nowhere. Waiting for that first good wave of the new day which had just shattered into existence.
After a night of heavy drinking and partying, now was their time to relax and have a more chilled out fun. Straddled on their boards in the warm, murky waters of the Gulf Coast, wave after wave pushing them back and forth, but none were right. This was the life; it couldn’t get any better, even if it was Surfside, Texas.
“Oi! This is it; check her out, what a beauty. Its time for the love-making to commence!” The silence was finally broken.
“Aourgh, dude, the wait has ended and what a way to end the beginning! This is where it all begins, and what a way to start, with the epitome of perfection, it can only get better from now ‘til forever. Let’s do her!”
After an hour of lingering, the anticipation was finally over. Now they start paddling, they got her and carved her like a Christmas turkey, they played tricks with her and waves like her. Hour after hour they repeated the same actions, never tiring, never getting bored. Wiping out, sometimes in the most extreme fashions but never giving up. The sun finally reached its epoch of the day, the waves letting up taking a break from the earlier rush. This break was from them to bask en plein soleil. Out in the middle of the ocean, catching a breath, and a couple of waves here and there. Now to wait for the tide to return, whilst getting incredibly burnt. Tomorrow they going to be in pain, but that was tomorrow and tomorrow was forever and a day away. The time had slowly elapsed, but quickly in their perspective. The tides coming and going, surfing most waves now, but still being picky about which ones.
They began to head back in to feed their rumbling stomachs as the sun decided to make its journey out of the sky. They had turned into prunes, and hadn’t eaten since before the crack of dawn. The two figures caught the last wave to the shore, a disappointing three-footer. The perpetual nature of man and especially physically exhausted men coming back to shore meant there was plenty of rodomontade and horseplay between these two friends. Two guys strolling from the setting sun; one was 6’4 and lanky, dark skinned, dark soulless eyes and dark brown hair, curled and soaked. English, he was, so naturally lacked good looks with a nose the size of Jupiter and a chin that jutted out of his pencil-thin face. The other a Canadian-Australian hybrid, six even, medium built (quite muscular) with bleach blonde short cropped hair. Baby blue eyes that matched his baby face, which made him so incredibly good-looking, it was almost sickening.
Both flopped down on the sand and stared out into the sunset blankly, subtly contemplating the obscurity of a life less travelled.
“Ever wondered if this was everything. That this all we’ll get, after this, the end. Or as Louis XIV said “Après moi. Finis” This is all we’ll get.” The blue-eyed baby showing his big head had a strangely pessimistic thought process.
“That is kinda a depressing point of view. Which I’m sure we have all indulged in on certain occasions. I doubt we just cease to exist; it would leave us with a rather wasteful perspective on things. You’re implying that nothing in life is worth doing, Nicolas.” The response was almost as bewildering as the giant’s sitting position. Somehow he had made himself smaller than an ant, he had folded himself in half like a contortionist yet somehow he was comfortable. But then again when you’re tired anything is comfortable.
“No, James, I’m implying we should enjoy our lives now since there won’t be anything afterwards.” Nicolas responded.
The remaining sunlight was now being blocked by the shadow of a body which could make Venus furious with envy. She wearing a camouflaged coloured bikini which, with her figure, could make any man go silly with passion.
“Lady, you’re blocking the beautiful view of the sun, which with you in the way that certainly doesn’t pale in comparison. In fact even a baboon’s arse would be better to look at.” James’s comment, rather snide but very jesting. He was like a three year old when it came down to flirting.
The hazel eyes glared back with a cold stare, such that if looks could kill, he would have died a thousands death. It had the fury of a thousands suns and it would take thousand apologies to make up for that comment even then it was unlikely he would have been forgiven in a thousand years. Then she smiled a smile that would light up the world, which showed he was off the hook.
“James by the looks of it, your bony behind sitting on the beach facing the sun scared it away. So you should be one to talk. So typical of a critic, they are never part of it, so they will never understand it, so they pretend and use the lack of flare they have to cut down the thing they want to be a part of.” She replied, her voluptuous lips caressing those words with the ease of a hot knife through butter. Standing there with soft, luscious blonde hair blowing in the wind proving to the world that some blondes have minds as sharp as samurai swords. “You guys do realise that you’re at least two miles from where you started. I had to look for that lanky English mofo just to find you two. So I would advise we head up back the beach to the van so we can grab a bite to eat before we collapse from starvation, because I’m hungry!”
“Sounds like a plan darling, but if you haven’t noticed we’ve already collapsed. And it is unlikely we’ll want to walk any distance.” There was a certain obviousness to James that would to anyone else in the world be annoying. But for some reason these two crazy people were able to ignore.
“I have to admit though, that listening to our stomachs rumble; we should grab a bite to eat before we head back to the Devil’s Spawn, otherwise known as the Woodlands.” Nicolas had said the inevitable which upset them all, since it meant the weekend would be truly over. After that comment, all three of them proceeded to set off into the sunset discussing where to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
All three of them were now sitting in the dimly lit restaurant in Houston. This was the halfway point between there and what they had to call home despite hating the pace with as much passion as Robespierre had for the French Royal Family. This though was the Hard Rock Café, the music blaring in the background they ate their burgers in silence. The occasional word spoken here and there but nothing too significant, and mostly comments about how much boy bands should die slow and painful deaths.
Sitting there in the maroon-coloured booth with the T.V. playing music videos above them and Rock paraphernalia surrounding them, they couldn’t help but think about the over-commercialisation of society. But before James could make a comment Natasha nonchalantly kissed him knowing full well that the only way to shut James was to kiss him or feed him. Since the table had been cleared, she had no other option. James was a political and obsessed; he always had a complaint about something or another.
James sat there in disbelief, his jaw dropped momentarily, he was confused and concerned. Secretly he had fancied Natasha since they first met on the second day of school since she skived the first day. But he never though the day would come, but it soon dawned on him which had the same effect as Hannibal realising that the Romans had cut off all supplies and his troops were about to starve. Nicolas was laughing with Natasha, both glad the pre-emptive strike had worked; James’ mouth was temporarily silenced. All James could do was laugh and hope the delay was unnoticed.
“You may have won the battle, but the war is not over. For no one can silence the Great James of Chatternasia. Bwahahahah,” but before he could finish the laugh, the effect was ruined by his coughing and spluttering. This was one of the million signs that were hinting at him very subtly no-less to quit smoking. They all smoke and they all had reason to keep smoking, but it was their life anyhow.
The bill was dropped on the table, giving the threesome a feeling that they are no longer wanted in the establishment since no more food was to be consumed. So they threw their money on the table, and left telling the waiter where the money was as he questioned them. So they also proceeded to inform him where he can stuff it. They had no plans to return, since it was overpriced, overloud, over-commercialised and the food was average at best.
They piled into the van, with Nicolas driving, James in the passenger seat and Natasha in the back so she can sleep. As they drove off listening to the song Bad Habit from the album Smash by the once great band The Offspring, the darkness engulfed them. The lack of lights of the I-45 was no surprise to them but the lack of stars was always a topic of conversation. The sky was brown; it was smogged-filled and almost red. The sky had the rust colour that worried you about pollution. There were air filters on the side of the road to little effect.
“Man, the government are trying to tell us pollution doesn’t exist. And here we are looking at a starless, rust-coloured sky.” Nicolas was always annoyed with the slow destruction of our beautiful planet. He wanted to be a marine-biologist; the ocean was his true love.
“I know, its not right. We’re being fed information from the media and the government that global warming doesn’t exist. And that these factories aren’t really damaging the environment. Yet we see it happening all around us. Heh, look at that lady in that old Dodge van, she’s so fat she’s weighing down the front right side of the van.” James had a very short attention span.
“That van is probably working on fart power considering how fast they’re going. Dude, look at her husband, he’s thinner than you. That’s funny; the woman’s so big that the suspension looks like its going to buckle!” Nicolas unabashedly making fun of the fat lady in the van going by. Both Nicolas and James carried on with the teasing whilst getting cruder, more disgusting and somehow including trampolines, lard and sweat; certainly not a pretty picture to think about. They were lucky the lady wasn’t within earshot.
The three good friends slowly nearing their homes. Natasha in the back in deep slumber; leaving Nicolas and James to discuss women, philosophy, sex and music. And the two were being as animated as ever almost causing a couple of accidents here and there, especially when Nicolas tried to play country. There is no better place to leave these unsuspecting souls until the next article, hurtling 90mph on a highway heading home.
