Freddogg Off The Chain

Four forty year old pot bellied buddies emerged from the summer morning haze of the saltwater fishing pier at Cape Henlopen State Park where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Delaware Bay.

They were pushing rented hand trucks stacked with fishing poles, coolers and drywall buckets. Home made brightly colored wife beater shirts decorated with wide mouthed bass or jumping sword fish accented cutoff Dingo pants and beaten down sneaks was the accepted fashion. Uneven tan lines went from maroon to red ending up in bright white like the underbelly of a bottom feeder.

They dropped all their gear in front of a mired Yoda looking dude wearing those big assed wrap around glasses and said,”Guard this stuff with you life” and headed off to the men’s room.

The biggest dude emerged first and was whistling “Strangers in the Night” with the volume of a deep woods song bird. I thought that was a peculiar selection giving his age, dress and morning activity which was fishing with his buddies.

And the second dude came out and began to whistle the same song. Then Yoda began doing it. I knew it was a subliminal reaction to surrounding stimuli but the words to the song-“exchanging glances wondering what were the chances we’d be making love before the night was through” was so incongruous to the images I was perceiving which raises a deeper question “why was I sitting there in the first place?” and the reason was I was getting ready to go walking and was adjusted my Ipod but when four burly buddies walk into a public restroom I was always wait for them to come out before venturing in if for no other reason than the hollow drum echo in the place.

Admit it, something in my eyes is so exciting.

Freddogg