Experimental Short Story Training Continues this morning with ....
Short Story Number Two
Huang Si and the Fishing Contest
We left our heroes last SS (short story) after they ever-victoriously routed their beautiful swamp home of an infestation of crazy swampy monsters. Today, looks like ol' Huang Si has mixed and/or reserved feelings about this year's annual swamp fishin' contest .... I wonder how it'll play out.
1
I left the feudal confines of rural China many a year ago, I was only 3 years old when I came over this way yonder.
My ol' pappy? He was a smart man, a sailor, used to haul wrecks to shore to the salvage yards. I guess you'd call 'im a junkman ... a junkman who specialized in boat junks. That ol' sailor taught me all there is to know about salvage and also taught me the little tiny bit of Chinese Karate that I know today. God bless his soul.
My mammy? She was a nice lady ... taught me the ins and outs of the ol' game. Best of all she taught me how to fish. She learned me quick how to rope a big 'un and wrangle it in. Then we cook 'em and eat 'em. I loved my ol' mammy. Trouble is just like paw .... she died young. God rest her soul.
Nobody said being an orphan was easy ... but I struggled more than most with being orphaned at my young age due to how much I loved and missed my pappy n' my mammy.
I yearned for a family to once again call my own for a full decade, spending my teenage years journeying the world over .... but it was here where I found that family.
In the Swamp.
2
Old Weston, God rest his soul, let me stay at the swamp on the condition that I use those cherished skills my parents passed to me. No not karate, I'm talking about boat salvaging and fishin' is what I'm talking 'bout.
Salvagin' wrecks n' fishin' up smelts n' kippers are my talents ... and I cherish those talents more than anything on this wide earth. Why? Because that's all I have to remember my ancestors by, my beloved parents, who died way before their time ... they taught me those cherished talents and I will always hold them near and dear to my heart.
So, When Ol' Weston asked me to employ those talents for use ... in the fashion to be useful and to help others ... I was more than honored to do so. I've been pullin' up broken up junky boats and catchin' up fish in this swamp come it many a year now ... and I love every minute of it.
Until, of course, the day came where I had to permanently retire one of my cherished talents at the behest of my ancestor's code of honor.
3
My Ol' Mammy, Huang Erniang, taught me the ins and outs of ropin' big uns. Big fish, the biggest.
One day she told me,
"Son .... you must never use the 116 fishing techniques for evil. The Huang ancestors who wrote these 116 fishing techniques wrote them with the blood, sweat, and tears of one thousand fisherman. The fish you catch are ONLY to be used to feed the people of your village ... never to be sold to fish mongers in exchange for money!"
I was too young to understand the strength of these words at the time. I just thought they were some dopey fishin' tricks that she pretended were the passed-down for generations wisdom of one thousand elders.
It was a rainy and damp day down at the ol' swamp, the day I gave up fishing forever. I disobeyed the oath I made to my late mother that day.
"Where ya goin' Huang Si?" asked Gertrude to me.
"I'm just goin' down to the ol' fishin' spot, my secret one, Gertie, 'aint no big deal or nuthing," I responded.
"Oh alright, if ya catch something bring it on here ... I'll fry it up something fierce!" said Gertrude.
I remember that day well, I took our best motor boat, went down to my secret fishin' spot, picked up my rod, n' started to fish. And then it happened ...
.... I hooked the biggest fish of my life! A wide-mouthed bass half the size of a motor boat!
I was in my secret fishin' hole out in the farthest reaches of the swamp ... no one knew about it but me. If no one knew ... then no one knew I caught that fish neither ... ya reckon? That's what I reckoned, daddy-o, that's what I reckoned.
I took that fish, not back to Gertie to fry up in a butter pan, but I shot the motor boat up to north point dock and hitched it. I carried the big bass across my shoulders all the way up Northern Road all the way to Viktor City ... and you know what I did?
I sold it for many a money that day. I sold it hot and quick for a dandy batch of money, daddy-o, that's what I done did. I got a whole buncha money and wasted it all on chocolate and gamblin' houses like a fool.
... and by doin' that, I defied the sacred oath I made to my Mother, and angered the one thousand elders who wrote the divinest of fishin' techniques with their own blood, sweat, and tears.
4
"YA HAVEN'T CAUGHT NO DERNED FISH IN A SWAGGLIN' MONTH N' A HALF YA GRIMEY SONNAFA SAILOR!" yelled Moms Yeager at me.
"Don't be so hard on the brotha, my motha. Huang Si, over the years, has caught one hundred times more fish n' sea critters than any of us here at the swamp ... and you know that," Reggie said to her, coming to my defense.
"Reggie's right..." said Jake while takin' a long swig of swamp watta.
"Y'all defendin' him cause you three is like brothers the whole set of ya!" Angrily retorted Moms Yeager.
It made me happy that my soul brothers defended me like that ... but Moms Yeager was right as rain on this account. I was cursed something fierce. My fishin' skills dried up like a raisin in the hot sun, I tell ya.
That night, I dreamt pretty fierce, real sweaty-like dreams. I saw my Mammy come to me in that dream and she told me....
"Son, you have betrayed the wisdom of our ancestors and used your fishing talents for profit. The one thousand elders who's 116 techniques have been passed down in the Huang family for generations shall no longer be of service to you ... I'm sorry my son .... but you are no longer permitted to use them. You. Will. Never. Catch. A. Fish. Ever. Again..."
Then my mammy's ghost evaporated into the thinnest of air and I woke up in a feverish sweat, I did.
Knowing that what she said was the truth in that dream ... I knew I'd never catch a darned fish ever again and hung up my fishin' rod for good.
Now all I had left is my salvagin' junky boat talents my pappy taught me. I'll just use those to make myself useful here at the ol' Swamp...
5
August 6th through to the 10th, that was always the hardest week for me at the Swamp and it still is today. That's the days the Fishin' Contest is held here ... a contest who's championship I won on five occasions ... but I haven't taken part in that ol' contest now in a good coupla years.
What good is taking part in a fishing contest if you're cursed by one thousand ancient Chinese ancestors to never ever again for the rest of your entire life catch a darned fish? No good, that's how much good. No good at all!
I bet ol' Jake, or Gertie, or one of those slimy suckers from the Dunston family might win this year. I'm not even gonna watch. It hurts me to watch them all catchin' big uns and I gotta sit and watch as I am buried under a Chinese Curse.
Woe is me to to say the least, daddy-o.
Just then, I could see in the distance, Reggie strugglin' with a big ol' sucker of a fish! Bein' so strong he hauled that sucker up rightly quick.
"DAMN! Look at the size of this here fish in this here boat!" Yelled Reggie.
Everyone was in awe, that hunk of fish would guarantee him the win in the contest, no doubt. It was a surely large hunk of fish meat is what it was.
...but then...
The fish STOOD UP. It had legs!? No way!
"That 'aint no fish you knuckle head! THAT'S ANOTHER ONE OF DEM GREASY SON OF A SWAMP MONSTAS! yelled Moms Yeager.
The monster was scary as sin, man. It had big fish ears to hear ya with, big fisheyed eyes to see ya with, and big fish teeth to bite your ass off, man!
The fish jumped up and down on Reggie's fine motor boat and flung Reg off it like a spring board. He landed in the water, Jake jumped out of his nearby boat and swam to him, and they both swam back to the swamp's shore.
Everyone was too tired from bein' baked in the hot swamp sun n' fishin' all day to have enough stamina to fight that dirty ol' monster fish.
...And me? I was feeling cursed and useless ... like a pile of accursed beach rocks.
6
Sittin' there watching this swamp monster make fools of my soul brothers. It was hard. I knew I had to do something.
Rightly then I had a vision, it was my pappy. It was my dear pappy's ghost and he told me right to my mind's eye...
"Huang Si, it is I, your father...."
"Pappy, is it really you ..." I answered his voice, with my eyes closed, as if in a dream.
"Yes, my son, and I must tell you ... I know I forbid you from using the 19 Death Moves of the Huang Fa karate school .... but ... Huang Si .... your soul brothers, Mr. Jake, and Mr. Reggie, are in grave and dire straits, my son."
"Father, what are you trying to tell me, father?" I asked my father's ghost.
"Your soul brothers will perish if you do not use the 19 Death Moves of the Huang Fa school. My son, I no longer forbid you from using them. You will not be cursed by a hundred thousand ancestors if you use the Death Moves! Please! Hurry! USE! THE! 19! DEATH! MOVES! OF! THE! HUANG! FA!"
"Okay ... father ... I will."
7
"That monsta gonna run a havoc in this swamp, I'm tellin' ya!" yelled Gertie in a feverish pitch.
"We are all too sun burned n' sun swaggled n' sun stroked from the hot sun and all the fishing all day to fight this slimey sucka!" Yelled Reggie.
"Damn right..." said Jake.
"Hold it, everyone, I've just been sittin' under this here swamp tree all day just sokin' up the shade. I haven't fished a lick all day long, daddy-o. My stamina is 110% right now ... and filled with the words of wisdom of my late father ... I am rip, rap, rock-steady, and raring to fight that Monster Fish!" I exclaimed with the potent vigor of a champion.
I leaped into the air, high up into the sky, like a flyin' fish ... and landed right on the boat where that grimey slimey son of a sailor monster fish was doing his intimidating monster thang.
Fightin' on a rocky boat sounds hard, but not for a man who trained under Huang Fa. I used to fend off my father's practice blows whilst standin' on large bamboo stocks at our family's bamboo thicket. 'Aint nothing short of routine for me to be fightin' on a rocky-docky boat like this.
"GET 'IM H-SI !! DO IT FOR THE SWAMP, SOUL BROTHA!" Implored Reggie to me.
I entered a counter-attack position and taunted the Fish Monster to open up the first round of engagement. He declined at first, but even though he can't speak my language, I'm sure the tone of when I referred to him/her/it as a "Gunky Hunka Hunka Slimey Trash" musta gotten under its skin and then it came at me with the force of a dozen swamp mules!
I parried and countered, and used the 7th of the 19 Death Moves ... The Divinity Crane Elbow Counter technique, as the errand blow of the monster sailed to my left ... I turned and pounced with #7 on the right ... my elbow struck but didn't seem to end the monster's resolve.
"Look out Huang Siiiiiii! He's comin' back with the ol' 1-2 combo!" Warned Jake from afar.
I pivoted off my good foot and balanced my shiftin' weight on the rocky boat with my off foot. I was off my good foot! Good GOD!
Just then, in my wobbly n' bobbly state of footing, I remembered the 11th of the 19 Death Moves of the Huang Fa. The Wobbly Drunkard's Fist of Tong Jia!
The 11th of the Death Moves uses wobblyness and bobblyness to the user's advantage. The input of my wobble would be directed and outputted to my FIST.*
The Monster Fish thought he had me on my bad foot and went in full throttle to punch me offa da boat. But the joke was on that dumb fish ... for how could it have foreseen that under my employ of limited karate moves was one in which quadrupled my potency while being off balance.
Sometimes it is just the luck of the draw, daddy-o. Sometimes it's just the luck of the draw. I beat that fish and won the day with my Ever Victorious Wobbly Drunkard's Fist of Tong Jia ... but more importantly I won something else that day .... the re-respect of my ancestors.
That night, I was visited thrice more in my dreams by varying ancestors. My pappy came by my mind's eye to congratulate me on defeating that slimey son of a sailor swamp monster. My mammy came by to tell me how proud she was of me ... and then my mammy said a thousand people would like to speak with you, son.
I asked her .... "Who?"
Then the voices of One Thousand Ancestors filled my mind's eye, speaking all at once but somehow it felt like they spoke as One. They told me that, today ... I used enough blood n' sweat n' tears to be forgiven for my misdeeds of the past. They told me that I will once again be allowed the use of the 116 Divine Talents of the Ancient Mariners .... the greatest fishing skills known the world over.
Looks like I'll back at my favorite secret fishin' spot tomorrow ... hoistin' up smelts n' trouts inta my ol' motor boat again, daddy-o.
END.
And thus concludes the second installment of the Swamp Trilogy. The next one ... through the POV (point of view) of Reggie ... our heroes will finally uncover why there's swamp monsters in their swamp. Is it an Alien Clandestined Conspiracy? A Government Clandestined Conspiracy or something even worse and more sinister? Who even knows.
Foot Notes
*The Wobbly Drunkard's Fist is known as the 颤抖的酒精拳头 or the Arukoru Chudoku no Ken for Japanese speakers. Translations may vary.
No comments:
Post a Comment