Ocean town? I took this angle(Out of respect) It’s not the mirror image of that fabulous view @Finder had found.

On our way down the old ocean hwy. Daughters playing Eye Spy. I can catch the smiling if I look sideways. We first crossed the old bridge over old ocean spillway. And turned onto ocean way just in time for sunset. The sun surf and sand in front of the Ocean Inn. Will be well met. By the two little terrors black and blue from bruising. You can bet.

In yesteryear maybe. You’d run smack dab into a sea of azure blue. If you spaced out and didn’t hang a left onto Ocean front drive. Where the remains of old Ocean Wharf extends from. Her decrepit structure hanging out over nothing but sand now. The water retreated a hundred miles from here a decade ago. When the river dried up. Ocean towns tourists did the same. So the merchants rolled up. They had enough. People think you got to be made out of tuff stuff to live out here now. I say it’s never been better my neighbors a cow.

My town? Is the P in Pea soup? A once blue collar bastion the local yokels once defended with passion. Spouting its merits amongst friends in the city (SF) to no avail. Thankfully nobody wanted to hear a thing about foggy (Pathetica) Pacifica.

We stayed under the radar longer than anyone thought we would. We have the fog to thank for keeping the Huns at bay till now. It’s retreat will be the death nail of our sleepy town.

The hustle and bustle and traffic of a prosperous city replacing it. Boo hoo the natives are cranky. Their 1000 square foot homes are selling for almost two million.

My hometown is something else. I tell you.

You wanna know something they don’t tells ya bout me hometown? You already know? That’s what I figured. "Crickets"

Silence is becoming a rare commodity. I’ve managed up till now to give myself daily chemical lobotomies. This little slice of earth once provided me with a windfall. The barbarians are at the gate. And the bartender just cried out "Last call!"

Why so mad lad? You Sad? As well as your, how is your dad? (Mr.Sapp)

I got a hunch. As to why your panties are in such a bunch.

The old mans out to lunch. Drinking his own cool aid. Proudly presenting his damned self to punch. Drunk! Skunked!

He’s off the short bus and making a B line for us. Sad set upon Sad. Second sons time has come to do something about Dad. Threes company but Juniors a coward. The old man ain’t himself so I felt empowered.

To act! And that was that. Im glad I finally got to see myself nap the old Sad Sapp out. Erasing some of my own lingering doubts. That worried I’d never get my chance to take the title in a rout.

No Ill will remains. You’ll find none the need to pout. Two wrongs don’t make a right. So no two Sad Sapp’s will go to sleep before making up tonight. Nice and polite. As granny Sapp would’ve liked. Psyched! Call her Ms. Sappy if you nasty. All else take a hike.

Cancel cultures that won’t except anyone of a different ethnicity. That laughably foolishly see themselves as genealogically superior to everyone else. Or inherently more mentally capable than others. As it sits "our" planet is severely segregated. Religiously, ethnically, culturally, and into the haves and the have nots?

Not until mankind thinks of itself as one kind. Humankind. Will our entire family go to bed not knowing hunger. Every child is a compassionate persons responsibility. Haters are cultured

"Silence suits me just fine. Say no more.

If so inclined. Your silence speaks volumes Simon. Thought it reeks of falsehoods. Anyone can see.

It’s just part of a costume. Clearly biting your tongue feels so wrong. It’s exhausted you. At what cost Mr Mayhues?"

A quick gloss I’d thought. Before the swords cross. And a war of words is launched. I didn’t toss my hat into the ring a lot. I did speak up when the pot called me a kettle black. Confirmed by a tip of my hat. Only a childish fool gets goaded into a lesser gentlemen’s spat. Disarming loaded questions. Without hesitation. No more tit for tat spats. Far from that.You don’t gotta be a mime to figure it out. Stoping short. Miss quoting. You got ghosted dually noted. Loose lips sink ships. So pipe down or we will trade more than quips. Your swimming with sharks now Drip. Sync or swim against the current and get your fins clipped.

"What was that Drip?"

Replied Mr. Simon Mayhues. Opening up and taking the offensive. Repeating oneself being so contentious.

In the beginning. I was not consulted. My approval was not necessary to be. So often times I was disregarded. Coming up you see? Any opinions I presented thoughtfully we’re laughed at. Went so far as calling me retarded. Mocked by adults once my. For acting my. Showing their age. Instilling in me for a time considerable unnerving rage.

Which in turn generally resulted in producing that I’d previously pleaded for less intensely. Dually noted. Bookmarked by the humiliation endured for to sheepishly quoting. By the babbling buffoons on the other side of my peep holes.

Hell before the so called great minds of this planets got around to communicating with me. I’d had already been engaged in such with my head’ shoulders, knees, and toes for some time. Before we next spoke I swore to them in their language the best I could.

"This is no fucking joke. You got any brains up there. A Dead head would at least have a few far flung ideas."

Again they mocked my attempts to wheel and deal. So I screamed.

"Look at me! Count and subtract nine from ten"

Exposing just one middle finger.

“I left only one you understand? Two my contempt for you may not expose”

I thought for sure. This time I wouldn’t be taking so lightly. They thought how peculiar. Pulled out their phones. And recorded themselves making a fool out of me. Went so far as uploading it to YouTube. So I can forever be That Dude. That tiny pissed off little dude giving everyone the bird on YouTube. How thoughtful.

"In the beginning"

You have their word. And you can trust such will serve themselves in the end.

Knock Knock...

"Who’s there"

"Wrong door”

Knock Knock.....

"Soothsayer"

"Two sayer’s who foresee"

"Do we need to do this?"

"It’s all been done before clearly"

"You know what I dream of"

"To veer. Sincerely"

"To well up in tears the second time I hear a sad story"

Is the pen mightier than the sword? What better to move a story forward?

Each a great scorer. Both could leave a mate sorer. The scars each leave behind come with physical consequences.

Both are sub par for mending fences.

But have done their par in tending to defenses.

Seen as senseless by those who’ve grown sour on the scene.

Still for many to wield one would be their childhood dream.

A terrible team. One bossy the other threatening. At least half the time any way. We’ll find out.

I’m expecting.

It’s apart on their own we’re they’ll truly shine. Both putting fear in ones lives. And saving that of others. But in the end one commands a nuclear arsenal. And the other has grown dated & unfashionable. It takes but a few drops of ink to see to it. There is no end of bad blood to be spilt.

No doubt there design is phallic in nature as well.

If you look back far enough, you can see...

And hear. Touch your head nose nips hips knees toes trees and lighter can grip. After attempting a suicidal neck braking head whip round. Go to town perv down on the big round buns a bopping by.

Your lucky. Most guys lose feeling below their necks then waists. For hours even days. After making haste. To get another taste. Checking some puta’s dancing by fake tits a popping up front and all kinds a junk hanging out the trunk. I can’t believe your chick didn’t wake up when you put her drunk ass down to go chat them up.

Right on for thinking of me as wingman potential. I’m going on a second date with Fern? Fairy? Ferny?

"FERNANDO! FERNANDO! FERNANDO!"

The hunky hairy ex Cuban commando. Seeking asylum. He thought he’d try some. If for nothing more than to be Savoir-fair. In that cold salty foggy San Francisco air. Un collard of the communist yoke. Took a toke on a blunt and a bloke. In Cow Hollow. It’s as if the swallows have returned to their Capistrano.

Ah damnit! I’ve gone and dramatized my TELENOVELA "too" much. I think I’ll call it...

• A REBEL WITHOUT PAUSE •