Big summer / The tide in June
“Redondo spinners” by Rolfe Metzger
She sat next to him at the bar and waited for what seemed like forever for him to notice her
Summer’s child is full of woe
“Autumn’s child gathers candy.
Winter’s child plays in the snow.
Spring’s child springs about carefree.
Summer’s child is full of woe.”
Saturday, 9 a.m., June 13, 2015, Paseo De La Playa, Redondo Beach
“Buffet on fleek,” real estate agent Decker tweeted.
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 a.m. sharp. Carol was disappointed that Alice Montain decided at the last minute to have a seaweed wrap at Eulallia’s Seaside Spa. Before Carol could jinx the deal by complaining, Bruce took charge and guided Mr. Montain to the deck where they had laid out a fabulous buffet by the infinity pool overlooking 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 to buried under two inches of white feces.
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 had been airlifted to the hospital.
Saturday, 9:30 a.m., June 13, 2015, The Green Store, Hermosa Beach
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. She 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, so June was going to soak them in peroxide just to be safe.
Saturday, 9:45 a.m., 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?”
“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 put his fishing pole down.
Sergio 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.
Saturday, 9:50 a.m., June 13, 2015, Hermosa Beach
Mavis Durst 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.
I think he broke my arm,” Mavis cried to the 911 operator.
An ambulance was dispatched to the Hermosa Beach apartment to treat Mavis and the children.
A warrant was issued for the arrest of Randy Durst.
Saturday, 9:50 a.m., 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. This seaweed is extremely horny,” Professor Soren put the specimen in the autoclave to kill it.
“Viagratized seaweed,” Torkil mused.
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.
Saturday, 8 p.m., 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.
Sunday, 11 a.m., 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 daycare 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 they’d 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.
Sunday, 11:00 a.m., June 14, 2015, Redondo Beach Pier
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 a booth by a window. They didn’t answer him.
“Mom!” one of the children screamed, pointing at the beach below.
“That is disgusting!” An elderly woman got up to escape the sight.
A crowd gathered around the beached sea lion. Its belly was 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 of. It had fins with retractile claws. It was born via a self-made cesarean section by using its extreme saber teeth. It bolted towards one of the children in the crowd. Everyone screamed and ran as fast as they could in the hot sand. The creature used its fins like legs and walked back into the sea.
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. Several dog owners had to be arrested.
The dog had stepped on one of the tendrils and was dissolving in agony.
“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 jellyfish 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 Martial Law.
Sunday, 11 a.m. June 14, 2015, June Baker’s Apartment, Hermosa Beach
“Get up, sleepyhead,” 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.
Sunday, 11 a.m. 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. ER