BIG SUMMER / THE END

Sunday, 11:00 AM June 14, 2015, Soren’s Research Vessel, International Waters

The research ship was on way back to the main lab in Finland. They didn’t finish taking samples. They destroyed all the samples they had taken. Ivar was badly beaten but not infected.

Professor Syn Soren sent her report to the emergency summit in Helsinki.

~ the end ~

BIG SUMMER / THE TIDE IN JUNE

Sunday, 11:00 AM June 14, 2015, June Baker’s Apartment, Hermosa Beach

“Get up, sleepy head,” Kate knocked on her roommate’s door.

“I’ve had to pee for hours but I can’t get up,” June groaned.

“I’ll help you,” Kate opened the blackout curtains and suppressed a scream.  June was twice as big as she had been the day before. There was no way she’d be able to get up.  Kate dialed 911.

“My water broke!” June screamed, horrified by the amount of water spilling from her.

“She isn’t due till October. She’s having the baby now!” Kate screamed into the phone.

~ To Be Continued ~

RIOT ON THE ESPLANADE

Sunday morning, June 14, 2015, The Esplanade, Torrance Beach

Dogs broke away from their owners on the Esplanade and bolted down to the beach to surround and bark at the huge blob on the sand.  The Fire Department cordoned off the area and repeatedly told dog owners to get back up on the Esplanade and go home.

A police officer shot a dog and the crowd went insane. From his point of view he had no choice, the dog was dissolving in agony. Several dog owners had to be arrested.

“We got a lot of pissed off dog owners throwing rocks and bottles. We can’t contain this! We need the National Guard.  We need flame throwers. It’s a jelly fish the size of a church! It swallowed a buoy! It’s got a buoy inside of it!” another officer shouted into his radio. It was time for Marshal Law.

WOULD YOU LIKE A MENU?

Sunday, 11:00 AM, June 14, 2015, Manhattan Beach

Sunday brunch was in full swing. Locals and tourists enjoyed the buffet while savoring the view of the beach.

“Hi, my name is Trevis and I’ll be your waiter. Will you be having the buffet or would you like menus?" Trevis seated a family in the booth by the picture window. They didn’t answer him.

“Mom!” one of the children screamed, pointing at the beach below.

“That is disgusting!” An elderly woman scrambled to get away so fast that she took the table cloth and the meals of her family crashing to the floor with her.

A crowd gathered around the beached sea lion. The belly was horribly distended and something inside was ripping its way out. What emerged was another sea lion that was the almost the same size as the sea lion it had been inside. It had leg-like fins with retractile claws.  

The creature was born via a self-made cesarean section by using its extreme saber teeth. It looked at the crowd and then spit a substance that burned through the clothing and skin of the people it hit. It bolted towards one of the children.  Everyone screamed and ran as fast as they could in the hot sand. Someone tried to pick up the child but tripped and fell. The voracious monster caught them and dragged them both into the sea.

SIR, HE DON'T HAVE A FACE.

Sunday, 11:00 AM, June 14, 2015, Lunada Bay Cove

Officer Douglas Everlake handcuffed the surfers to each other while the other officers kept them in line. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable hike up the cliff.

“We’re not having this conversation. I’m not running a day-care center. Plenty of witnesses saw what happened here yesterday and one of them made a Vine video and posted it on twitter,” Officer Everlake was fed up with what the press called “localism”. 

This time the surfers had beaten a foreign marine biologist who worked for the beautiful Nobel Prize winning professor Syn Soren. The injured man, Ivar Nagelfar, refused medical services and didn’t press charges. His colleagues collected him and rushed out to sea without comment. 

Everlake wasn’t going to be blindsided when the other shoe dropped. The surfers were going to jail.

“Doug, you’re gonna wanna see this,” Officer Presston interrupted and pointed towards a clump of seaweed. “I think it’s the wife-beater, Randy Durst.”

“Does he have a scratch on face?” Officer Everlake asked.

“Sir, he don’t have a face,” Officer Totino answered and then threw up. The projectile vomit sprayed on the surfer’s feet.

~ To Be Continued ~

THE GIRL WHO CRIED WOLF

Saturday, 8:00 PM, The Hermosa Saloon, Hermosa Beach

The dance floor was packed. Jeri Kadar squeezed into the Hermosa Saloon wearing a purple body dress with a padded bra, dark glasses and a long curly red wig. She was sure her boyfriend Brake Whitcomb wasn’t going to recognize her. She sat next to him at the bar and waited for what seemed like forever for him to notice her.  He didn’t offer to buy her a drink so she ordered a beer and nursed it. When she finished the beer she was exasperated and tapped Brake on the shoulder and asked if he wanted to dance.

“Sorry, I’m spoken for,” he said putting his arm around a blonde seated next to him.

Jeri was furious and stormed out of the saloon.

“Come on! Jeri! It was just a joke. We all knew it was you. Faye is George’s girlfriend. You know George. Come back inside!” Brake pled in the parking lot.  

Jeri kept walking down the alley.

“Go to hell!” Jeri shouted, raising her arms but not looking back.

“Well, at least let me drive you home,” he tried to reason with her.

“I’d rather die,” she shouted. She decided to walk back to her apartment via the beach so he couldn’t drive alongside her like he did last time. That was awkward.

“You need grow up, Jeri,” Brake gave up and went back inside the saloon.

There was no one on the beach. Jeri soon regretted her plan. She wished she’d taken Hermosa Avenue. She was headed in that direction when a man grabbed her.

“I got what you’re lookin’ for baby,” he ripped her dress. She scratched his face and broke free. She ran as fast as she could.  She could hear him close behind. Then suddenly it sounded like he fell and made a face plant in the clump of seaweed she just jumped over. She didn’t stop or look back.

She called the police from her apartment.  Officers Aaron Evans and Officer Bill Harland told her they spoke with her boyfriend.  Brake Whitcomb admitted they’d had an argument and that Jeri might be making things up for attention.

“Well, we’ll see if Randy Durst has a scratch on his face when we find him,” Officer Evans said to his partner as they walked back to their squad car.

 ~ To Be Continued ~

WE'RE GOING TO NEED A BIGGER RESEARCH GRANT

Saturday, 9:50 AM, June 13, 2015, Research Vessel, Offshore, Lunada Bay

“We’re gonna need a bigger research grant,” Professor Syn Soren recoiled from her microscope like it was going to bite her head off. 

“What?” cabin boy Bobby Torkil asked.

“The chemicals the sex organs of this seaweed secrete have changed. Things don’t change this fast!” Professor Soren stood bolt upright.

“Does this have anything to do with the seepage from the crack in the sea floor? Does this confirm the imminency of an 8.0 earthquake?” Torkil frowned.

“If I am seeing what I think I’m seeing, I WISH for an 8.0 to open a fissure to swallow up and boil this monster before it can spread! This seaweed wants to have sex with you!” Professor Soren declared.

“Why me?!” Torkil shrieked.

“Not just you! Everybody! It used to secrete a chemical to attract its sperm to its eggs. Now it wants to penetrate the cell walls of any cell, any species it encounters. This seaweed is extremely horny,” Professor Soren put the specimen in the autoclave to kill it.

“Viagratized seaweed,” Torkil scratched his head and tried to imagine it.

The First Officer slid down a pole from the deck above.

“Professor! Some surfers are beating the shit out of Ivar!” First Officer Kettil reported.

 ~ To Be Continued ~

UNDER THE BLUE UMBRELLA ON HERMOSA BEACH

Saturday, 9:50 AM, June 13, 2015, Hermosa Beach

"Stay with me, Mavis," The 911 operator kept the stabbing victim focused.

Mavis Durst had dialed 911 to report that her ex-husband had violated the restraining order. 

“He’s drunk. He said paper don’t mean a thing, that I still owe him sex anytime he wants it. My arm is broken,” Mavis cried to the 911 operator.

"Where are the children," the operator had asked her to apply pressure to the wound but Mavis couldn't do it. 

On the beach with my sister. Blue umbrella. Don't let him get the children," Mavis could hardly speak.

An ambulance was dispatched to the apartment in Hermosa Beach to transport Mavis. A warrant was issued for the arrest of Randy Durst. The police descended upon every party with a blue umbrella until they found the children and took them into protective custody.

THE MISSING BUOY

The Missing Buoy

Saturday, 9:45 AM, June 13, 2015, Redondo Beach Pier

Officer Chris Hansen followed the excited alcoholic to the scene of the crime on the Redondo Beach Pier.

“What is it this time, Tiny?” Officer Hansen asked.

“That buoy!” Tiny pointed out to sea.

“What buoy?” Officer Hansen didn't see anything.

“The one that ain’t there no more,” Tiny stomped his foot.

“Well, Tiny, for once you are right, or else we’re both not seeing things! I’ll make a report. Vandals probably took it last night,” Officer Hansen replied.

“No, no, no!” Tiny cried out, grabbed a fisherman and pulled him over to testify on his behalf.

“Don’t be grabbing me like that, Tiny! Let me go. You need a bath!” Sergio pulled away from his smelly friend.

Sergio carefully put his fishing pole down and then explained to Officer Hansen that they had all just seen the buoy disappear.

“It was there a few minutes ago.  It had sea lions on it and everything, then boom, it went down! It might pop back up any minute, you think? You know, like a jack-in-the-buoy-box….sea lions and shit flyin’ in the air, ya think?” Sergio corroborated Tiny’s story.

“Ya’ll are ruining a perfectly good Saturday morning,” Officer Hansen glared at the men. All the fishermen gathered around shouting at the same time that they never touched the buoy.

~ To Be Continued ~

 

I LOVE THE SOUND OF SEAWEED BLADDERS POPPING IN THE MORNING

Saturday, 9:30 AM, June 13, 2015, The Green Store, Hermosa Beach

"I look like a hippopotamus," June signed.

"No you don't," Kate reassured her.

June Baker leaned on her roommate Kate Walters and limped into The Green Grocery Store.

“Late start this morning?” the clerk asked. The girls were regular customers. Every morning they walked from Hermosa Beach to the Manhattan Beach Pier and back. June was determined to have a healthy baby and keep her figure. She was very sensitive about her weight.  The baby wasn’t due until October but she looked like she was ready to give birth to triplets at any moment.

“Do you have peroxide?” Kate asked. June had stepped on a seaweed air bladder to hear it pop and something on it must have irritated her foot. They guess that maybe it was some chemical from the recent oil spill.  

June was one of those people who couldn’t resist snapping bubble wrap. She also enjoyed popping seaweed air bladders on her morning walks. There wasn’t an actual cut but her toes were sore and red, so June was going to soak them in peroxide just to be safe.

BUFFET ON FLEEK

Saturday, 9:00 AM, June 13, 2015, Paseo De La Playa, Redondo Beach

“Buffet on fleek,” Decker tweeted. He posted a photo of the posh spread.

Real estate agents Carol Riverson and Bruce Decker put the finishing touches on the Paseo De La Playa property in Redondo Beach.  

 The potential buyer, Murphey Montain arrived at 9:00 am sharp. 

"Where's Mrs. Montain?" Carol pouted. She was not good at hiding her disappointment.

"Alice decided at the last minute to try the seaweed wrap at Eulallia’s Seaside Spa. She trusts me," Murphey Montain explained.   

Before Carol could jinx the deal by complaining, Bruce took charge and guided Mr. Montain to the deck where they had laid out the fabulous buffet by the infinity pool that overlooked the ocean.  It was Bruce’s belief that this view would sell the property. He offered Mr. Montain a glass of champagne and invited him to enjoy some caviar.   

As they approached the sumptuous brunch, a flock of inordinately large pelicans floated by. In seconds the entire deck was completely plastered with bird droppings. The backyard instantly went from pristine tropical green to buried under two inches of white feces. The white film bobbed in the infinity pool and buried the buffet.

Before anyone could speak, Mr. Montain’s cell phone rang. It was Eulallia, the owner of the seaside spa, informing him that his wife Alice was being airlifted to the hospital. The faint sound of the helicopter grew louder and louder until it directly passed over them and then fainted again as it flew up the coast and then inland.