Doug DonnanExecutive
Editor/OMNI-GENRE+MAGAZINE!donnan.doug@yahoo.com
"Flotsam
& Jetsam"
by
Doug Donnan
[Somewhere along the coast of
Northern California]
“We
don’t do nuthin’…that’s what we do!” Calisto exclaimed
as he gingerly guided the
trembling Sanchez around the bloated
carcass there along the
lapping midnight shoreline. The indifferent,
waxing moon was the only
other witness to the grotesque ocher
seaweed sarcophagus that had
washed up there on the pebble beach.
“But, it all seems to be
somehow muy profano. That is to say…
‘very unholy’ senor
Calisto,” Sanchez whispered as he whipped a
hurried sign of the cross
just beneath the dipping brim of his
weathered and weary khaki,
Stetson hat.
Calisto spat a gob of
something over his shoulder as the tattered
twosome circumnavigated the
little sandy corpse.
“Never mind amigo. That damn
soonamee wave is bringin' ‘em in and
the cops and coast guard
folks'll be haulin' ‘em out. That’s jist
what they
get paid to do. And as for
yer holiness… stuff like that is best left to
that high hat Pope in Rome
and God himself. And lemee’ give you
one more piece of free
advice my little beach bum buddy. There’ll be
more of them Japanese
‘travelers’ floatin’ up along here…a lot more.
They’re comin’ all
right…jist as sure as Jesus rolled away that stone..”
“Pero senor Calisto…maybe we
could at least try and—"
“You jist keep right on
walkin’ my fine fearful friend,” Calisto cut in as
he pinched closed the frayed
collar of his tattered black Goodwill jacket.
“We gotta’ relocate mi
amigo. There’s all hell comin' in way out here on
this sorry ass, woebegone
beach.”
_____ THE END _____
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