Chimney Swift
i am confusion
Janitor Toothrot
Most of the world is covered by water. A fisherman’s job is simple: Pick out the best parts.
The mop master took no offense whatsoever to the moniker Mr. Toothrot. He chuckled in amusement as Meera rambled in excitement, pledging herself and her nervous companions to the voyage before abruptly tumbling herself and her volleyball into the skiff. "Aight down there?" He bent back over the edge of the dock to inspect for damage. Seeing none, he nodded calmly and gave just the faintest hint of an all-knowing shrug. Evidently, Meera was just as dyspraxic and spatially challenged as Stu and Oliver. Were all the young rabble in Parish Point this gawkish and clumsy? One had to imagine it was so, since there were hardly any counterexamples to be found at Parish Bay High.
The three of them really did make a perfect team of sailors, though. If they could hardly stay upright on land, they'd move with the waves just fine. That was definitely how that worked.
"I haven't got life jackets fir ye, so we'll be doing it like the old days and just promising not to lean in over the edge. Get it? Got it. Good." The time-worn sea traveler gave a hand gesture that was half a thumbs up and half a finger-gun. An incredibly odd thing to see a man who was simultaneously 50 and 170 do. "A shame it would be to have to fish you like cod out of the water." another quiet and bewildering laugh. He seemed confident, though, that there would be no untimely deaths out on the salty harbor. Two of the three looked less assured.
The timid boys, though, didn't take too much coaxing to climb into the boat. Once Meera situated herself all ready to set sail, Oliver followed, still chalk white and stammering, knees quivering as he curled up on the long, thin bench. Stu stepped aboard soon after, and once the crew was assembled, the mythic janitor took to the bow and readied the expedition. He took to this with all the calm nonchalance of a suburban dad on a golf cart. Just a normal Saturday for him, the journey of a lifetime for the oddball pack of teens.
"A right good day it is, too." Herman loosed the rope binding the skiff to the dock, and the small wooden boat creaked and tilted free, bobbing left and right on the slow waves. "Look how still it is, aye? Been choppy since the storm." In but a moment, their little ship had slowly drifted away from the docks out towards were the sun sat high over the rocky edges of the beach, stretching out into the vast and open ocean. The kind of breathtaking visual moment that called for a dramatic crescendo in the background orchestral. Cinematic. "A bit farther out's where I did spot a pod of pilot whales early in the month. They'd best not come that far up to the shore, I have thought--"
Somewhere beneath the wavering surface of the water, a bitter and vengeful hermit crab scuttled over the sandy ocean floor, eclipsed by the shadow of the boat. Its feelers twitched as though somehow through the briny waves it could smell the blood of a mortal foe.
code by valen t.