A frigid chill hangs over the beach as a cycle of tides continue to crash against the sand, reminding the moon that it exists and that it matters, too. The howling laughter of an alliance of hyenas rings out in the distance as a barrage of rain droplets create a harmony of pitter pattering on the bay...The hyenas must have just gotten back from a Blue Collar Comedy Tour show or perhaps just remembered one of their old punchlines from their days of yore. A few tickle football fields down the beach rests a magnificent bonfire raging on adjacent to a pop up community of makeshift shanties. In between the bonfire and shanties there is a clothesline that has a few jerseys resting on it; a David Garrard number nine, a Byron Leftwich number seven and a purple Ric Flair entrance jacket from the inaugural WWE Royal Rumble held at Copps Coliseum in Hamilton, Ontario in 1988. A muffled stirring rattles about in one of the makeshift shanties for a few moments that seem like a Lifetime movie (most likely Christmas, if you are anyone) before a weathered individual wearing a pair of goggles from the Mad Max traveling band and strumming an acoustic guitar (it was as if Jimmy Buffett just washed up on the beach by pure happenstance) stumbles out of the improvised curtain door with a horrid graveyard mix stench of Seagram's gin, Flamin' Hot Cheetos and last night on the tip of his tongue. The bassist in the Mad Max traveling band suddenly gets tripped up by a fledgling association of sand condominiums and takes a tremendous tumble face first into the main office, effectively demolishing their stock value and turning the complex into Smitherseens (smithereens made of the remains of Mr. Burns's tortured assistant.) In the midst of his descent back to the Earth, the bassist lets out a whimper of a giant chihuahua and his prized collection of magenta rocks, glittery seashells and cool looking pebbles comes kamikazeing to the shore, which he was carefully balancing an armful of against his knock off North Face jacket which he got at South Mouth's online store by logging in to one of the computers at the library on the beach there in Jacksonville.
*KABOOM*
The discernible noise of a firework rings out in the distance as the Mad Max bassist helplessly peers upward to the angry skies, half his face buried in the fourth guest bathroom of an upscale, posh pebbly abode and the other half in complete awe of the events that he is bearing witness to. On the brink of insanity and with little other choice, the Mad Max bassist opts to follow the mortar and ultimately, his heart. Moving towards the explosion, he doesn't so much as walk as each foot saves his body at the very last second from once again descending to the cold dirt. Suddenly, the Mad Max bassist begins to speed walk and then his speed walk turns into a jog and then finally metamorphoses into a speed jog which in Outside Magazine layman's terms we would call running, a strenuous physical activity that only the most Tim Duncan of the moment (you know, like spur of the moment but in this case...forget it, I'm gonna go pour a cup of coffee - I'm not gonna drink it, I just like the action of pouring a cup of coffee and it'll be a nice centerpiece for my table of clutter which is coincidentally mostly just old San Antonio Spurs stats from the late 90s and early 2000s printed out from Basketball Reference's website.) frequenters of Forrest Gump who have no regard for the lower half of their body like to participate in. The Mad Max bassist bounds forward with the enthusiasm of ten thousand Air Buds catching ten thousand alley oops from ten thousand Garfields (in this universe, Garfield and Air Bud are the best of friends and Garfield is Tony Parker to Bud's Tim Duncan - are you picking up what I'm putting down now? If Coach Pop did an in between quarters interview about this post, he would probably say that it was the best thing that he has read since he invested in that fledgling popsicle stick joke writing business, Chuckle Freeze, which failed after making the grave mistake of centering their headquarters dangerously close to the equator.) After speed jogging towards the explosions for a while, the Mad Max bassist comes upon a sight that he will never be able to erase from his brain, even if he comes across the newest and most loaded with technology version (like a seven layer dip of technology that you dip computer chips in) of the Neuralyzer 6S from the Men in Black franchise. This is a sight that would make even the strongest of Sea World season ticket holders twist and shoot in their lil' yellow rain booties.
It is another bonfire, more magnificent in its mightiness than the last, and with dozens of people huddled around it and holding hands solemnly as if they might be praying for more kindling or something of that nature (or something else from Mother Nature). Upon closer review, the Mad Max bassist notices that the birthers of the magnificent bonfire are wearing masks...But these aren't just any ordinary masks, however - they are wearing masks of various sea creatures, each one more terrifyingly detailed and real looking than the last. A large brute of a man is donning an all too realistic appearing false face of a Blue Whale and he also has a sweatshirt with a homemade blowhole on the back of it sorta like those sweatshirts that have horns in the hood except more of a worthy auditionee for a Nautica commercial campaign. Kitty corner to Sir Blue Whale there is the woman with a sea lion from Finding Dory jumpsuit in the background, doing that everybody clap your hands thing that they do at the sports stadiums and annoying the whole lot of 'em- they call her the Sea Lion Queen. The Sea Lion Queen and Sir Blue Whale look to be the leaders of the marauding gang of beach hooligans or at least that is as much as the Mad Max bassist can ascertain in the moment, which seems to last as long as the time in between each Olympics (or what is known around the extremely exclusive IOC snack bar circles as the length of a Blue Ring). Swiftly, the leadership academy of knock off Spongebob Squarepants characters kicks the whole situation into high gear as they snatch up a pair of crystallized conch shells and hastily make a couple of illuminating calls into their beaks. From behind a sand-made replica of the Empire State Building emerges a gorgeous mermaid or at least it is a gorgeous lady in a mermaid costume that she probably got from The Party Store if she knows the score. That's not what is astonishing though...the craziest part is what the gorgeous mermaidy happened to be holding in her arms (or should I say fins? Nah, let's stick with arms because it's less related to the Miami Dolphins and their former quarterback Jay Cutler, Paul Bunyan's less athletic and more poorly coordinated little brother - final answer Mr. Trebek - starring in Worst Jeopardy Ever)...cuz she was flat out holding the corpse of a real life dolphin! (Speaking of the Miami Dolphins and Jay Bunyan sparkin' up cigs on the sideline!) Yeah that's right...it was one of those old school dolphin sacrifices all along.
Buy Chris's books SPONGE CAKE & WHAT'S IN THE FRIDGE? on Amazon
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