It’s Fun

The liquor store burned down last night. “Or up. I’m not sure.” I think as I drag myself instead down the pier for some air with the constant—

phut phut          phut

—of the paddleball game my doctor made me carry to combat stress.  The elastic stretches out with every angry bounce and the ball takes longer and longer to come back—

phut                  phut                              phut

—it only makes me more stressed. I estimate it’s about two-miles long now. It’s a mess—

phut                                          phut                                                      phut

—flying over the beach as I survey the halal whale kebob stand. A confused volleyball player takes a swipe at it, and I duck behind a jerk octopus booth—

phut                                                      phut                                                                  phut

I catch a potato grouper who snaps up the ball as it sails over the ocean. “Or it caught me. I’m not sure.” I think as I’m dragged headfirst through the sand clutching the paddle.