Me and the boys are in the boat and we’ve decided to play Deadliest Catch––only the waters of the Gulf are calm and green, and the creature at the end of the line is a fat 40-year-old man wearing a bad toupee. He flails and splashes, begging. We share a laugh and lean over the port side to get a good look.
“You gonna talk, Brucy?” Charlie asks.
Big Bruce treads water frantically, saying he hasn’t done anything. His head dips down for a moment and he comes back up with a mouth full of water, gurgling out a scream.