Do you hear the salty briney bastard
grinding its teeth? All day and all through the night. For as long as
there has been a world. Churning and fooshing. Splashing. Spurting.
Squirting. Loads of it. Massive amounts of it. Imagine lying at the
bottom of it. Imagine it sitting on your chest. Crushing your ribs
and denying you breath. A soundless death in the soundless depths.You
wouldn't fuck with it. The scrotumtightening assassin. The snotgreen murderer. It'll kill ya! It was
once a friend of mine. It played with me when I was a child. Lifting
me in its swells and gently putting me back down again. But then I
found the dog, drowned, circled by flies, wrapped in seaweed like
ribbons and bows on a parcel. A sick gift. Spat up and
left on the wet sand with a gurgling snigger. Why would the sea do
such a thing? 'What are you going to do about it?' said the sea to me
and I shrugged. The sea does what it likes. The sea is proper
gangsta. The sea kicks the shit out the land and exhausted shelves
collapse into it. Pwned! The sea is a tough nut, a hard chaw, a total
knacker. The sea is hungry and never stops eating. It'll clean the
plate - the continental plates, licked clean. Sometimes you can hear
the fucker belch. Humanity crawled out from the sea on its pitiful
belly and humanity will get eaten by the sea and left belly up. We'll
all be soaking again soon, floated and bloated, drifting dead amongst
the remains of our world. A big human stew stirred by the currents
and pecked by gulls. And it won't be revenge for our folly, it will
just be. The sea will decide that our time is up and we'll see it
standing up, on the horizon, and rushing forward, silent at first,
then hissing like static, then roaring like a monster army, charging
onto the earth. It'll put this planet in its great wet blue grey
green belly. It used provide us with fish suppers but soon it'll have
us all for dinner.
'Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
so do our minutes hasten to their end.'
'Claimed by the sea and it
was always going to be.'
You see?
2 comments:
Where oh where are our useless politicians? Do they even care about this aqueous invasion? After reading your warning, I decided to take matters into my own hands, and went down to Wicklow harbour to show the sea who's boss. From the moment I entered, I started pummeling and kicking seven shades of shite out of this briney monster. It was bigger than I thought, with no discernable weak spots, so I had to do a fair bit of travelling around the harbour, lashing out as I went. Bam! uppercut to an incoming wave. Splat! kick deep into its nether regions. Whoik! Punch to the solar plexus.
It was obvious I was having some effect, for after each lap I noticed the sea had retreated a little more from out Homeland shore, and I was only getting fucking started. Half way into another lap, and I was slapping and pounding even harder than ever, but then the sea showed just what a cesspool it really is. A small boat came into the harbour. Who was this, I thought? None other than Randy "Macho Man" Savage, screaming abuse at his timorous fianceé, Elizabeth. I mean, he was right in her face, his vile yellow spittle lashing into her delicate facial features, dripping from that elfin nose. And she was taking it. (Fair play to her, I mean he's much bigger than her, but she wasn't crying or anything). As the boat drew nearer, I saw him raise his hand, and slap her across the face. Ah hear, I thought, I'm not having that; I mean whatever domestic a man might have with his woman, is fine, but there's a line...
Enraged, with blood boiling, I swam towards the boat, determined to put manners on this Savage oaf, lets see how he likes it when someone his own size slaps him in the face (and who knows? Maybe then Elizabeth would finally look at me as something more than a friend?), and then I saw it... A huge wave from the wake of the boat, heading straight for me! The penny dropped... the sea was in league with Savage! It all made sense now, I was falling victim to the oldest trick in the book, the old "Jailbait Complication" move. I turned and made haste for shore, the wave approaching me, and as I did, spied the striped uniform of the referee high on the pier, his back turned to these underhand Oceanic moves. And why not, he'd been distracted by that bumpkin 2 by 4, who was illegally bashing Wicklow County Council "Warning: Steep Drop" signs with his lumber hammer. That's you and me Joe Taxpayer who paid for those signs, you brute, so I was glad that the referee was admonishing him for his vandalism. Unfortunately, the wave enveloped me before I could make shore, and I was pulled under, gasping for air, by the sea. I just about made it out, and as I climbed the shore, I vowed to return, only this time I would be ready for the sea's tricks, and hopefully we'll all cash in by having it on Pay per View.
As if you didn't have your hands full enough, giving that watery fuck bag the sea the old King Canute Chokeslam, along comes Savage. Wow the sea and Savage together on Pier Per View. Two wild and irrational forces of nature. You had your work cut out.
You know, if the sea was a man, it would probably be Randy Macho Man Savage. And if it was a woman, it wouldn't be classy like Ms. Elisabeth, no. It would be Sensational Sherri.
Anyway, does this kind of thing usually go on down Wicklow harbour?
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