Morning surf fishing can be weird.
|It was early morning. The sun had not yet broken the horizon with its soft glow. Dan and his father loaded their fishing gear into the back of the Jeep.
“All set dad?”
Dan’s dad was ex-army, though a man of few words he often used military jargon in his “comms.”
They drove in relative silence, stopped at the “Tank n’ Tummy” for gas, coffee, and a fresh doughnut. Moving on, they stopped at Jimmy’s Bait Shop near the beach. They had heard that the Mullet were plentiful down by the old pier and were eager to catch a pail for the family fish fry.
“Hey Dano. What ya’ll got planned this mornin’? Takin’ you’re Pop out to make sandcastles?”
Dan laughed. Jimmy loved to rib his customers. Dan’s father just glared and slid his K-bar from the sheath.
“How about I come over there and skin you, wear you for a wetsuit, do my fishin’ out deeper?”
Jimmy laughed. “You’re a cracker Bud. Got the sense of humor of a Barracuda. That’s why I love you.”
“Get the mealworms Dan and let’s get outta here, before he comes over and kisses me”
As they settled in their chairs, their lines in the water, the sun was just coming up over the Gulf of Mexico.
They each caught sight of a shadow in the waves. They watched silently. A figure, only the head at first could be seen, but soon shoulders, torso, and legs appeared, as it walked in steadily. Silhouetted, it approached the two dumbstruck fishermen sitting on the beach.
White pasty skin, pickled in seawater, wearing an old tuxedo covered in kelp and various crustaceans. The apparition halted and said:
“Pardon me gents. But could either of you direct me to the Titanic? I seem to have lost my way.”