Notes from the Guts of a Hippo by Wamack Grant

Author:Wamack, Grant [Wamack, Grant]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bizarro Pulp Press
Published: 2013-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

21

Jay and Eric walked down to the beach. Eric suggested trying to catch some fish. Jay found a thin branch and tied one of his shoelaces to one end.

“Hey, what’s that?” Eric said. At first Jay didn’t know what the hell Eric was talking about, then a moment later he felt stupid as he saw something white among the red sand.

Jay picked it up and dusted the sand off the surface before he began to read.

Due to excessive hunger pains, I had to find a way to catch some food. There seems to be evidence of animal life, feces and such, but no animals have shown themselves. So I went down to the shore and decided to fish. In my youth, I went fishing with my father. However, it has been such a long time since I’ve used a fishing pole. Now what I had slapped together wasn’t exactly the same but close enough.

Instead, I found a long sliver of wood. Regrettably, dire circumstances forced me to pull a lace loose from my shoes. And not just any shoes, my prized 1982 Converses.

I attached the aforementioned shoelace to the sliver of wood with a butterfly knot. I needed some type of bait. Luckily, I came across some small fish. They were scattered throughout the sand. Small in size. Perhaps guppies or some similar variation. They possessed three fins and two beady black eyes.

With some luck and intuition, I attached a fish to the end of my string. I cast my line out and waited. Over time, the heat began to bear down on me. So much so that I had to take off my shirt. I felt embarrassed to show off my flabby chest. But once I realized I was alone, my self-consciousness dissipated.

After a while of baking in the sun, or at least a filtered version of it, I began to doze off. I awoke when I felt a gentle tug at the end of my line. I lifted my head, briefly confused, then I tightened my grip and pulled with all my might. The other end pulled just as mightily.

Finally, I fell on my behind and my shoelace flipped in the air and at the other end a fish was attached. I stared in awe as the fish tumbled ashore. It resembled a salmon; the only difference was this salmon was composed of three “balloons” connected to one another. It was a grotesque sightthe skin stretched over its bulbous frame and the single black eye, which reminded me of soft black stars.

Each “balloon” had gills in the side, which allowed the passage of blue fluids . . . and words.

“If you would be so kind, can you please put me back in the water?” The fish said.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I need some dinner,” I said.

“Why me? There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Well, it’s survival of the fittest, the circle of life coming full round as they say.”

The fish pondered this a bit before speaking. “I suppose you’re right.

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