I Said Fish Fry, Not Fish Face


[First installment is here.]

I awoke the next morning to a Category Two hangover: Shotgun Going Off Inside Head At Five Minute Intervals. I was trying to reconcile the previous night's consumption with my current state of mind, because it seemed like I was a lot more hung over than I expected to be. Then I realized that the shotgun was going off outside my head (what gave it away was the hail-like clatter of buckshot through the trees outside the house).

It was one of those psychological things, I guess. The moment I determined that there was no reason I should have a hangover, it went away.

Over breakfast, we caught up on what happened before we got there:

  • Don't ask Kenny what happened to his speedboat. The final verdict was a new motor - to the tune of 4 grand - and the drydock wouldn't even be able to start working on it for three weeks. Essentially that put his boat on the DL for the remainder of the season. Kenny is planning to consult a lawyer since he thinks the drydock (the same one) improperly winterized it last year, leading to the problems.
  • Don't ask Carmine what happened to his speedboat, because he didn't know why it crapped out - again - and this time Firestone wasn't around to bail him out.
  • Speaking of 'bailing out,' Cueball's boat was under water to the gunwales. We suspected a Soviet submarine.

Rico rolled a submarine watch on his jet-ski while the rest of us set about refloating Cueball's boat. By the time we finished, it was time to head off to Jim-billy and Will-billy's annual fish fry, where they gave back to the lake community what the lake gave to them all summer. And there was fish, too. Everybody who was in either's family, ever worked with them, had a beer with them, or could spell their name would be there, and that pretty much covered everyone within a ten-mile radius of SUL-ville. I manned the depthfinder on DA's boat on the trip over, and I thought I picked up the signature of an Akula-class, but I couldn't get a fix good enough for a firing solution. Fortunately, we made it all the way to Jim-billy's without hearing "Torpedo in the water!"

The fish fry featured a three-car-garage filled literally end-to-end with tables of food (I took some pride in noting that flower_goddess's antipasto squares disappeared in a matter of minutes), but the highlight was when I noticed DA holding his thumb at arm's length and squinting with one eye.

"Dude," I said, "I see you in a pose like that, I'm expecting to see a paintbrush in your other hand and an easel in front of you."
"Just look where I'm looking," he replied. "For your own protection, start from the ground and work up."

Some of the things DA does without issuing a safety warning scare the hell out of me, so I was inclined to listen. I stood behind him and looked over his shoulder in the proper direction. Working from bottom to top:

  1. Calf-high white patent-leather lace-up platform boots, size five (don't ask me how I know; it's a gift).
  2. Tan legs. About six miles worth.
  3. Impossibly tight denim micro-miniskirt, about the size of a headband.
  4. Pause for a few seconds.
  5. Hip-to-hip ass curtain.
  6. More tan.
  7. Skin-tight cropped white blouse restraining world-class breasts.
  8. Long, wavy, bleached a little harsher than I'd like - but that's OK - hair...
"Dude," DA said, "Just because she's got Minerva's face doesn't mean she can make you go blind. Here, drink this. And don't say I didn't warn you."
"It's Medusa."
"Who's Medusa?"
"Medusa, not Minerva, and she doesn't make you go blind, she turns you into stone. And what drink? I can't see anything."
"Crybaby." He pushed the drink into my hand and I managed to fire it down without spilling any or chipping a tooth. "OK, I'll talk you through it. What did you see?"
"I think I just saw the world champion Butterface. She must have used the same sprayer that applied her miniskirt to do her makeup."
"Didn't help, did it?"
"Not nearly enough. OK, I can sort of see light and colors out of one eye now."

Two drinks later, I could focus again. What did I see? Three other guys squinting through one eye over thumbs held at arms' length. And one guy rolling on the ground trying to claw his eyes out.

Continue with Part III here.


Hey Chris-- my wife was trying to tell me there's supposed to be a mountain and an ocean in that visual aid you linked to... I don't see it. Is that one of those optical illusion pics or something?

Sorry, all I see is two half moons...

Well, there's a camel toe in there too... :)

Leave a comment


Powered by Movable Type 4.34-en

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Chris published on September 23, 2004 2:46 PM.

Unreasonable Expectations From Rathergate was the previous entry in this blog.

Comments Broken is the next entry in this blog.

Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.