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The Come-Back-to-Hubpages Challenge - The Fishy Mountain
This Hub is written in response to:
A Writing Challenge: Are You Up For It? - by Bill Holland
Story Title: A FISHY MOUNTAIN
By De Greek
The worm drew my attention with its coughing. Until then, I had no idea that worms cough.
I looked down and right next to the cooler, the sand moved and the worm peaked right and left over the grains of sand until our eyes met.
‘Oh, bovine egesta!’ it said with resignation and keeled over. (Historian’s note: Hubpages does not allow the word “bullshit” to be used in its hallowed pages, and in any case, I found out later that this was a cultured worm from Pune, a previously Imperial City in the Indian state of Maharashtra).
There I was, lying on the beach sweating rivers in 40 degree August heat, with Einstein by my side, minding my own business and trying to think of clever ways to tease Raye Roes, Shallini, FP, Pam Good, Shadesbreadth, Nellieanna Hay and Marie Jimenez-Beaumont. That’s Einstein the bulldog, by the way, for those who do not know us.
Imagine a sandy beach spreading out on either side of us with no one else around to bother us. A fairly large beach umbrella shared its priceless protection equally between Einstein, myself and the cooler.
Now, the De Greeks are renowned for their humanity, for their sensitive natures and for their love of animals, so I immediately rushed to the creature’s aid. I gently took hold of its head and pulled it out of the sand. It was a big fucker. (The De Greeks are not from Pune, a previously Imperial City in the Indian state of Maharashtra). It was at least two meters long.
I could not feel a pulse so, in desperation, I began giving it mouth to mouth resuscitation. The worm began to splutter and a spray of green goo came out of its mouth straight down my throat.
‘Jeeeeeesus, what an arsehole! You nearly choked me, Adolf!’ the worm said, momentarily forgetting its Imperial ancestry and traditions.
I spat out green goo from my mouth and tried to speak, but the thing spayed some more green stuff out of its mouth and retched.
‘You kissed me, you pervert. Who knows where that mouth has been? You are not one of those modern sex experimenters, are you? I’ve watched the internet and those porn sites should be blocked. Well, not quite all, but certainly the ones that are into what you seem to enjoy. Pervert!’
‘I was only trying to help,’ I responded with as much dignity as I could muster in men’s thong bathing trunks.
‘Well, help by taking me to the water’s edge to wash off your bescumber, you fimicolous creature. I feel feint again. And keep that elephant away from me,’ he said looking at Einstein. Einstein barked and the worm fainted again. (And you lot don’t tell me that you are not rushing to the dictionary for the words ‘bescumber’, and ‘fimicolous’ because I won’t believe you for a second).
I took him to the water’s edge and gently and carefully washed him. I say him, because to my certain knowledge, in the history of womanhood no female has ever found fault with the De Greek lips before.
The worm began to recover and wormed itself around itself. John Daulton will no doubt criticize this sentence, but I challenge anyone to do a better job of it.
It looked up at me with dubious, mistrustful eyes.
‘What’s your name, Adolf?’ It said.
‘De Greek. What’s yours?’
‘De Greek? What kind of name is that? I think I’ll just call you Moron. My name is Navuhodonosor, but you can call me Sir.’
‘Very well, Sir, but tell me, how come a worm like you can speak?’
‘It’s one of nature’s mysteries, like how can an ordure pile like you move?’ (Admit it, John Daulton, you guessed the meaning, but you want to look it up to make sure, right?)
Einstein barked again and Sir swam off into the deep, to get away from us. Oddly, I was sad to see a talking worm swim away from me, but the only thing I could do was to wash off the heat and dirt from my body, so I also swam out to sea. Einstein faithfully followed me.
Suddenly I heard a screech and looking out at the endless sea, I saw Sir making a mad dash for me, followed by a fin cutting the water behind him. A large fish was after Sir.
Now the De Greeks are generally a brave lot, but only on land and when they are not dressed in a thong. The thong tends to put us off our game, so to speak. I began to swim to shore with some vim, but Sir was too fast for me. I felt him scramble up my back and curl himself around my neck. I had to stop in order to breathe, so I turned around to face my fate.
To my surprise the fish stopped a few feet away from us and looked at Einstein, who was barking, curiously. I was also amazed to see that it was a huge Salvelinus killinensis, native to Scotland lakes and known colloquially as Haddy Charr.
‘What’s a fresh water fish doing in the Mediterranean,’ I wondered out aloud.
‘Ye took me worm, ye scabby bassa,’ the fish said. (For those who do not speak Scottish, it means ‘you took my worm you dirty bastard).
As you can appreciate, I was amazed at this.
‘I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head,’ I said with as much dignity as I could muster.
‘Da no try to be dignified wid me, ye jabbie jabber (you gay). Remember I am a fish and I can see what ye’s wearing and a thong is not a man’s gear.’
‘Never mind my thong; you are not getting your fishy lips around Sir.’
‘That’s the spirit Moron, you tell him,’ Sir said in encouragement.
‘Oh, own yi go ride thu brron floom,’ the fish said. (Google it).
‘Listen you frivolous, grandiose and vexatious microphalli, I can’t sit here listening to you two pudendagra all day long. The sea is becoming choppy and we need to get ashore and sharpish,’ said the worm. (Go on Nellieanna, see if you work THAT one out).
‘Oh very well then. Get on me back and I’ll take ye ashore safely, before ye drown,’ replied the fish in resignation.
‘That’s pretty decent of you old man,’ I said. ‘Let us put all misunderstandings aside and get along as we are supposed to.’
And with that, I picked up Einstein by the collar and climbed onto the fish’s back.
Unexpectedly, wings sprang out of the sides of the fish and it began to fly out of the water, with us on its back. I was terrified speechless and held on tightly to its huge dorsal fin in desperation. Einstein howled and the worm screeched in terror.
‘As a cultured worm from Pune, a previously Imperial City in the Indian state of Maharashtra, I am bound by the rules of proper diction, grammar and civilized language, but what the fuck is going on here, Moron?’ the worm justifiably asked.
However, my terror kept me from responding.
Shortly thereafter, (I read this expression in Robinson Crusoe and I dare you lot to find fault with it), I saw a large, snow covered mountain in the distance. I took a photo of it on my smart phone, which I happen to have around my neck, in a waterproof pouch. (Go on you lot, question this. I dare you). The mountain was covered by dark dangerous clouds on the left, but on the right side the sun was shining brightly.
The fish landed on the top of the mountain and said:
‘Ye canno be very comfortable now in that thong, can ’e? Ye have a two meter worm there. Gimme half, and I’ll set ye down. The worm’l grow back up again and we’ll both be happy.’
‘You are not happy with being a figurative coccydynia, you want to actually cause me one, you miserable gowk!’ the worm screamed.
But I was freezing and taking advantage of the few minutes left to me before frost bite set in on all my protruding parts, I grabbed the worm, pulled half of it apart and shoved the end half part in the mouth of the fish.
‘Yummy!’ the fish said and immediately took off for the lowlands.
As it turned out, we didn’t have far to go. I saw through ice covered eyes that we were heading for the hillbilly part of the Appalachian Mountains, an area I know well.
‘I must say, fish, your behaviour leaves much to be desired,’ I said through chattering teeth.
‘Go take a running fuck at a rolling doughnut, Bampot. (I believe the translation is: I'm not persuaded of your argument, idiot).
‘There’s no need to be uncivil, old man,’ I responded with as much dignity as I could muster. That thong was really cramping my style.
‘Geez a gobble, Bampot. (There is no power on earth that can force me to translate this and I beg you Raye Roes, FB, Shalini and especially Nellieanna, NOT to look it up. It might be less painful for Lee Barton, but only because she is married to a sea captain and she may have heard things of this nature from the captain during moments of extreme stress, when the ship was in danger of floundering in rough seas).
Just then the fish put us down in a scrap yard, full of old trains ready for being crushed. As the fish flew off into the afternoon sun, it shouted laughing:
‘Yer mawz bawz (your mother's testicles) Bampot (idiot). Own yi go ride thu brron floom (the De Greeks have their limits, even in translations), the fish shouted, as it flew away, laughing.
I was about to make a cutting remark, but just then, Sir began to climb off me and I was destructed. I looked around more carefully and saw the familiar sight of my ex-wife’s barn. I used to be married to the hillbilly Goddess-like Pam Robertson-Good before she left me for the local football team, and I realized that this was her family’s scrap yard. I have never been able to get over that woman. It still hurts.
I was so thrilled to be in the same place where we spent so many happy days together with my hillbilly love, that I told my story to Sir.
‘Do you still want her back Moron?’ he asked.
‘Of course I do!’ I said without hesitation.
‘Well, I know these hillbilly women, and their hearts are as big as their feet. That’s why it takes a lot of gold to fill their hearts up. Despite everything, Moron, I’ve come to like you. Look at those train wagons.’
I looked at the piles of rust which were the train wagons.
‘Oxoaloxo, GOLD,’ Sir said.
Right before my eyes the trains turned into solid gold. I was almost blinded by the sight! I was speechless.
‘There’s a trillion dollars’ worth of gold there, Moron. Even someone as ugly as you becomes lovable with that much moolah.
’‘Wow! Why thank you, Sir. You’ve not only made my day, you’ve brought me lifelong happiness with my Pam, the only woman in the world for me! But please, do me another favor. I want to surprise my love. Turn the trains back as they were, and when my Pam comes out, we’ll surprise her with your magic. She will think twice about leaving me again once she sees what a powerful friend I have.’
‘Oh, very well, Moron. You are becoming a real coccydynia again,' the worm said.
'Oxoaloxo, (you lot expected abracadabra, right?) BACK!’
And immediately the trains became as they were.
‘Oh, mamma!’ Sir said at my feet.
I looked down and Sir was already trying to get to know another worm, which I understood from his comment to be a female. In fact, he was trying to know her in the biblical sense right in front of me.
However, my attention was drawn by a happy screech from the barn. I looked up and froze in awe and happiness. There was my love, my Pam, in her bare feet and in her hot shorts, running at me with her arms wide open, anxious to embrace me. My legs were like lead, but I managed to open my arms to receive her running form.
I did not pay attention to the ‘splash’ sound at first and it took us five minutes to disentangle. It was when I looked down to introduce Pam to Sir that I saw his squashed form on the grass. Pam’s beautiful, but huge, feet had stepped on Sir and his new playmate.
We buried them together, in honour of their newly found, but brief, love.
For those visitors who are not aware of how Pam and I got married on Hubpages, you may satisfy your curiosity by visiting the links below:
In honor of Nellieanna H. Hay
ALL RIGHTS WAVED. This material is NOT protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is DEFINITELY PERMITTED. ANY part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission of Nellieanna H. Hay or Dimitris Mita De Greek. ;-)