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Description
The classic rock station blathered on about Pat Boone and the good old days before microwaves and schoolbuses and diversity. No speedboats punctured the silence. Now, when on Erf were those fish going to bite? The worms weren’t doing anything, neither were the cream cookies he’d resorted to for bait. Ah well, a chance to smoke his pipe without the girls making a comment about small coffins. The kid hadn’t said a word, but Manfred didn’t know what to ask anyway. His grandpups spoke enough for thirteen, and not one word from their maws was ever directed at him, save inquiries about inheritance.

“Uh, enjoying your, ahh, stay so far?“
“Uh-huh.”

Suddenly, a great big SPLOOSH! rocked the boat from a few metres away. A shake powered by cockiness and panache. Manfred lit up, he felt a few months younger. Could it really be?… Maybe. Not luck, but karma to make up for yesterday. Then he spotted him: a brown flashing streak creating mini-whirlpools in the lake. That catfish was practically winking at him! Egging him! Now internal animation came, there was that old hunting instinct. He could be the breadwinner, err, fishwinner again!

“Hey.. HEY! Knashford… do you see that?”
“Yeah!” Live food would be a highlight for a shark, Manfred guessed.

“Do you know who that is? Well, ahh, no, suppose you wouldn’t, you just got here! That’s Largeass Larry! He’s been living in this lake for 48 years! Nobody’s been able to catch him! And do you know why?” He scooted towards the boy, full of vigour and vinegar chips. “Because he’s a slippery devil, a fighter!”
“Wow! He’s really mean?”

“You bet! One time, my buddy Orson Bruin, he managed to catch him in his boat for five whole SECONDS. Larry nearly whacked his ribs out the backside and sent him to the ER for a good long while! And Orson’s a big guy, I can tell you that! Poor guy, a grizzly losing to a fish! And to add insult to injury, Larry made off with his six-pack of Billy Beer!”

Ford cocked his head. “Why you wanna catch him?… a-aren’t you worried you might get hurt?…”

“Maybe, hopefully not! But it’ll be worth it, you know. Nothing more satisfying than winning a good fight and a cheer from your family. and well, not getting hurt at all… but yes, the first two parts. Kinda just… gets you in those primordial bones, you know? Like, maybe this is what we wolves did in the first place? All we did, maybe… maybe all we were meant to do. And through the years…”

Manfred fell over in mid-monologue. He’s stumbled over a mauve, wet and clammy lump in his beloved S.S. Mary. The wolf had to run through every scale and double-check the whiskers, but there was no mistaking it. He looked across to see a bare, sodden Knashford wringing out his turtleneck.

“I saved you the hurting!” he grinned.

…………………

Eurydice emerged from the comforting cocoon of a teenager’s dark bedroom rock posters and left-out laundry. Mittens had gone to take a smoke break, needing time to think of a rhyme for ‘blood-orange’. She entered the kitchen; hopefully no-one would miss a half-dozen tins of tuna and gallon of mayo. She looked out the living room window whilst preparing.

Boy, I’d like a yard. Somewhere to ignore the rest of the world’s garbage. But I’d have gargoyles in mine. And a chocolate-milk fountain. And a waterslide… huh, is that Ford in the boat? Just… sitting there. Well, at least he’s where I can see him. It’s nice, no one out here to step on him or yell at him… wait, what about those movies you took him to with the hockey-mask guy? Those took place in the woods… no, no… booze, drugs and naked teenagers summons slasher guys. Well, that’s only 1 outta 3 for us. Problem solved!

She squinted a bit. Ford was breathing, all right, but since when did he not want to run around like hell? She walked over to the lounge, where Manfred was scribbling his latest thumbnails. Sounded a bit violent for scribbling.

“Eurydice, could you put away your dishes when you’re done?”
“Sure, ssssssurrrre….”
And then it dawned. Those were indeed the first words he’d spoken to her.
“…hey… everything all right, Mr. Malone?”
“Oh… errr, yes. Fine, fine. Just a little mishap.” Wasn’t even looking.

Do that little suggestive spin that implies you’ve still got shit to be said. Eurydice mostly nailed it. “I saw Knashford out there. He looks…. a little down…..”

“Well, he’s a big boy. I suppose he’ll get over it quick.” Manfred said this with too-firm confidence.

“Hmm, yeah. I ‘spose. Like when he got over being kidnapped by a druggie at two weeks old. Or that time I lost him at a flea market. Or when he was nearly run over by a storm roller when some racist dunk chased us off the sidewalk.”

“O…oh?”
“And here… here I have the chance to show him that there’s more to this world than assholes, bad dreams and a wormwood-ridden apartment. So… please, watch your step while you continue your magical misery tour.”

THEN she nailed it on the dramatic zip-turn and stomp-off scenario.

“Eur-Eurydice..?”
She growled a “yeah”.
“Never mind the dishes.”

A nasty retort came to mind, but she turned and headed back upstairs. Always leave them wanting more. But she wished she hadn’t forgotten the sandwich…

Continued...

Description
The classic rock station blathered on about Pat Boone and the good old days before microwaves and schoolbuses and diversity. No speedboats punctured the silence. Now, when on Erf were those fish going to bite? The worms weren’t doing anything, neither were the cream cookies he’d resorted to for bait. Ah well, a chance to smoke his pipe without the girls making a comment about small coffins. The kid hadn’t said a word, but Manfred didn’t know what to ask anyway. His grandpups spoke enough for thirteen, and not one word from their maws was ever directed at him, save inquiries about inheritance.

“Uh, enjoying your, ahh, stay so far?“
“Uh-huh.”

Suddenly, a great big SPLOOSH! rocked the boat from a few metres away. A shake powered by cockiness and panache. Manfred lit up, he felt a few months younger. Could it really be?… Maybe. Not luck, but karma to make up for yesterday. Then he spotted him: a brown flashing streak creating mini-whirlpools in the lake. That catfish was practically winking at him! Egging him! Now internal animation came, there was that old hunting instinct. He could be the breadwinner, err, fishwinner again!

“Hey.. HEY! Knashford… do you see that?”
“Yeah!” Live food would be a highlight for a shark, Manfred guessed.

“Do you know who that is? Well, ahh, no, suppose you wouldn’t, you just got here! That’s Largeass Larry! He’s been living in this lake for 48 years! Nobody’s been able to catch him! And do you know why?” He scooted towards the boy, full of vigour and vinegar chips. “Because he’s a slippery devil, a fighter!”
“Wow! He’s really mean?”

“You bet! One time, my buddy Orson Bruin, he managed to catch him in his boat for five whole SECONDS. Larry nearly whacked his ribs out the backside and sent him to the ER for a good long while! And Orson’s a big guy, I can tell you that! Poor guy, a grizzly losing to a fish! And to add insult to injury, Larry made off with his six-pack of Billy Beer!”

Ford cocked his head. “Why you wanna catch him?… a-aren’t you worried you might get hurt?…”

“Maybe, hopefully not! But it’ll be worth it, you know. Nothing more satisfying than winning a good fight and a cheer from your family. and well, not getting hurt at all… but yes, the first two parts. Kinda just… gets you in those primordial bones, you know? Like, maybe this is what we wolves did in the first place? All we did, maybe… maybe all we were meant to do. And through the years…”

Manfred fell over in mid-monologue. He’s stumbled over a mauve, wet and clammy lump in his beloved S.S. Mary. The wolf had to run through every scale and double-check the whiskers, but there was no mistaking it. He looked across to see a bare, sodden Knashford wringing out his turtleneck.

“I saved you the hurting!” he grinned.

…………………

Eurydice emerged from the comforting cocoon of a teenager’s dark bedroom rock posters and left-out laundry. Mittens had gone to take a smoke break, needing time to think of a rhyme for ‘blood-orange’. She entered the kitchen; hopefully no-one would miss a half-dozen tins of tuna and gallon of mayo. She looked out the living room window whilst preparing.

Boy, I’d like a yard. Somewhere to ignore the rest of the world’s garbage. But I’d have gargoyles in mine. And a chocolate-milk fountain. And a waterslide… huh, is that Ford in the boat? Just… sitting there. Well, at least he’s where I can see him. It’s nice, no one out here to step on him or yell at him… wait, what about those movies you took him to with the hockey-mask guy? Those took place in the woods… no, no… booze, drugs and naked teenagers summons slasher guys. Well, that’s only 1 outta 3 for us. Problem solved!

She squinted a bit. Ford was breathing, all right, but since when did he not want to run around like hell? She walked over to the lounge, where Manfred was scribbling his latest thumbnails. Sounded a bit violent for scribbling.

“Eurydice, could you put away your dishes when you’re done?”
“Sure, ssssssurrrre….”
And then it dawned. Those were indeed the first words he’d spoken to her.
“…hey… everything all right, Mr. Malone?”
“Oh… errr, yes. Fine, fine. Just a little mishap.” Wasn’t even looking.

Do that little suggestive spin that implies you’ve still got shit to be said. Eurydice mostly nailed it. “I saw Knashford out there. He looks…. a little down…..”

“Well, he’s a big boy. I suppose he’ll get over it quick.” Manfred said this with too-firm confidence.

“Hmm, yeah. I ‘spose. Like when he got over being kidnapped by a druggie at two weeks old. Or that time I lost him at a flea market. Or when he was nearly run over by a storm roller when some racist dunk chased us off the sidewalk.”

“O…oh?”
“And here… here I have the chance to show him that there’s more to this world than assholes, bad dreams and a wormwood-ridden apartment. So… please, watch your step while you continue your magical misery tour.”

THEN she nailed it on the dramatic zip-turn and stomp-off scenario.

“Eur-Eurydice..?”
She growled a “yeah”.
“Never mind the dishes.”

A nasty retort came to mind, but she turned and headed back upstairs. Always leave them wanting more. But she wished she hadn’t forgotten the sandwich…

Continued...