She stood in the lagoon, tipping to one side as she atempted to alleviate the burn of her bunion in the cool water. Casting her line she hoped to hook a halibut, but each cast headed off course due to the will of the wisp of every one of the wind’s gusts. She was determined not to lose to the wind in the Great Halibut Hunt fishing contest.

Suddenly her line jerked and she chirped with glee earning her glares from her opponents and some spectators who spewed a few snark filled comments. None more hate filled than those from the disheveled greasy man with the patch of suntan lotion on his nose who was sitting in the stands. But with every inch of line she reeled in, her excitement grew. She had visions of a first place plastic halibut trophy. She could see anger in the eyes of the obese man at
the thought of a little woman winning such a manly tournament.

As she pulled the winner from the ocean, the evidence began to muddle her brain. For there was no monstrous halibut hanging on the line, but a thoroughly offended terrapin caught with a hook through his stubby tail.

She cast a quick glance toward the stands; which were set up like the inside of a large vessel complete with galley, to see if any eyes were on her and her embarrassing haul. He held a hotdog in each hand over his head in triumph and laughed. Her foil, the most disgusting of those watching, the nastiest galleycat trying to rile up any other onlookers.

She was mortified and furious and wanted revenge. She headed quickly to the shore with pole and turtle in tow. Making a beeline toward the fat man, she could feel herself starting to channel Bat Segundo as nasty notions and crass quips began to flood her brain. Drop everything and give me ten...books; was the main thing coming through, but even in her fury she knew it made no sense.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the judges scurrying over, like promenading poodles trying to pounce through the sand. She knew she had to hurry to beat them to the pig of a man stuffing half a hotdog into his mouth, grinning through his mustard covered lips as she approahed.

The crowd gathered, looking expectantly at what was about to unfold before them. The other contestants paused their fish luring to see what would happen.

When she was two feet from his face she saw the suntan lotion made him look like an overstuffed clown. Words flew from her before she could stop herself, "your mother wears Army boots!" She dropped the terrapin at his feet and turned to walk back to the lagoon as the turtle went for the fat man?s toe. The applause from the bystanders was loud as she reveled in the roar of the greasepaint, smell of the crowd, and the whining of the judges.

Disqualified for word count: 502. Let me know if I'm wrong.


Anonymous said...

I copied the story to a Word document. The word count came up as 500 on the nose. I didn't do a manual count.

Anonymous said...

Well I wrote it in word, and just pasted it back in there, and I still get 500 exactly in the word count. But if whatever you're using says 502, then I gues I'm out. It was fun either way! Thanks!