Post by Old Line Jeff on Nov 12, 2023 0:33:20 GMT -5
♫ I know everybody says ♫
♫ Money can’t buy happiness ♫
♫ Maybe so ♫
♫ But it can buy me a boat ♫
♫ Money can’t buy happiness ♫
♫ Maybe so ♫
♫ But it can buy me a boat ♫
“So this is what you spent your High Roller’s Club salary on?”
Katie Moss had the ‘city girl on a country vacation’ look down to a tee. Big shades, jean shorts (with the pocket artfully ripped to reveal the American Flag behind it), sandals… her hair was blowing around wildly in the wind
“Yer damn right it was.”
Carlton Gluck didn’t have any hair on his head to blow around, and his beard was impervious. With the relaxed poise of a king on a throne, he sat behind the wheel of a burgundy and white 2023 Starcraft Fishmaster 210. Clad in a polo shirt with the sleeves split to accommodate his arms and a pair of khaki shorts with more pockets than a JRPG protagonist, he also wore a smile of utmost satisfaction as he drove through the water as fast as the engine would allow.
You wouldn’t maybe think of it, but the mudflats of Mississippi really aren’t very far from the ocean. And the Gluck Shack, in its nameless country town, was less than a half hour drive from one of the few places in Mississippi that wasn’t crumbling apart - the beach resort town of Waveland.
“Was it worth it?”
Katie had to scream to be heard over the wind and the boat engine.
Carlton disengaged… okay look as your humble narrator I have no clue how boats work. I already researched beach towns on google maps, I’m not looking up boat instructions. Carlton took his foot off the fucking gas pedal or gas pedal equivalent.
“Yes. Yes it was. Six months on a High Roller salary, plus how our contracts were designed to pay out if he kicked us out of the stable and he never knew?”
“How’d you even get that past him?”
“Lawyer. I reckon he thought I wasn’t smart enough to think of that. But that’s where my first paycheck went. Then this is where the second one went. Then I bought a new deep fryer and a new coat of gravel for the parking lot at Mikes. Remember, that little store where I got you the fried chicken? The rest I saved for a rainy day.”
“I remember. So what’d Chapps spend his money on?”
Carlton shook his head. “That boy ain’t right I tell you what.”
“Okay, so, now you HAVE to tell me.”
“Well, first he tried to get Fogo de Chao to open a location in Picayune. They said that they would be willing to open one in Mobile, Alabama. Chapps immediately swore off Fogo de Chao for life for the sheer temerity of mentioning Alabama. I don’t know all of what else he done, but he’s got to have spent at least half of it at the Texas de Brazil in Baton Rouge.”
Katie giggled at the thought of Chapps in a fancy restaurant.
“So Katie, you ever been fishing before?”
(Incidentally, by a combination of popular demand and laziness, I’m not transcribing Carlton’s Mississippi drawl. Rest assured he still has it.)
“Can’t say I have. I heard it’s actually supposed to be boring?”
“Well, to cityfolk addicted to their phones maybe. But here in the mudflats we still do things the Old Way.”
Katie discreetly slipped her phone under the cushion on her seat.
“So come with me and lemme show you how to use a fishing pole.”
Katie stood up and-
“AIIIEEK!”
Carlton jumped. “What’s wrong?”
Katie just pointed.
“Oh that? That’s just a pelican.”
“Is… is it dangerous?”
He shook his head. “Not really. I mean, you don’t want to let it peck you, but here’s the thing.”
The pelican watched fearlessly as Carlton lumbered towards it. As soon as he got within reach, it opened its bill and bit him on the forearm.
“See? Booger’s actually so dumb it’s trying to eat me.”
“Really? That’s what it’s doing?”
Carlton made a fist and stuck his arm out straight. The pelican “bit” his fist and wobbled its neck trying to swallow.
“It’s a bird, but it’s so bullheaded it’s a wonder it don’t starve to death. A bird with the brain of a bull. Not that bulls is known for bein’ smart either. But this here pella-can? It can digest anything. If it was smart enough to talk it’d tell you it could eat anything. But since it ain’t smart, it don’t realize that’s two entirely different things. A bird with the brain of a bull. A bullheaded bird. Bullbird. You follow me where I’m tryin’ to segue this thing?”
Katie Moss put her hands on her hips and tilted her head.
“Did you really buy a boat and bring me and a camera out on the ocean in hopes that a pelican would land on your boat so that you could awkwardly segue it into a diss against Bull & Bird?”
“Yes.”
“Um…” Katie tried to put her thoughts in order.
“Oh there’s a lot more could be said Bird & Bull. Like ‘what the fuck is wrong with a couple guys who joined a promotion just to try and make their little sister’s life miserable when they could’ve been supportive?’ And ‘Fuck New Orleans.’ I tell you what, I reckon Kasper could headlock a hog to death faster than the little one, Jokin’.”
“Ah, Carlton? It’s pronounced with an H sound.”
“Oh, so like, Ho Achin’? Ho Achin’ Van Zant. The small half of Team Pelican. Big half’s name’s too basic to laugh at, but anyone wearin’ that much ink deserves, at best, condescension for bein’ so clearly uncomfortable in their own skin. But then again, he’s from Louisiana, so maybe if he does it, it’s a good thing?”
“Maybe. Are you really going to try to make Team Pelican a thing?”
“Yes.”
Carlton shakes the pelican loose and it flies off disconsolately.
Fade to ongoing enjoyment of a boat.