Difference between revisions of "The Proverbial Grazing of the Seaweed"
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Before I go on, yes, kelp is a vegetable. Which is why this is such a once in a lifetime event. I have no idea how often this happens, but I saw it... once. | Before I go on, yes, kelp is a vegetable. Which is why this is such a once in a lifetime event. I have no idea how often this happens, but I saw it... once. | ||
| − | It was July 7, 1997, in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I was out on the beach, going for a late night stroll with my friend Peter. We had a flashlight with us to see what was going on around us, seeing as how the moonlight was obscured by | + | It was July 7, 1997, in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I was out on the beach, going for a late night stroll with my friend Peter. We had a flashlight with us to see what was going on around us, seeing as how the moonlight was obscured by cloud cover. We're chatting about this, that, and everything else as we mosey along. You know, we talk about everything two 12 year olds do talk about: video games, sports, school, aspirations, how much our parents suck, movies, tv, and how girls aren't looking so icky anymore. Anyway, we're going along when Pete first makes the observation that there's a lot of crap being washed in tonight. Mostly seaweed, but we're also getting more dead fish, jellyfish, and debris then normal. I mean, a LOT more than normal. I know occasionally a lot of jellyfish will die and get washed in after a storm and things like that, but it's usually just jellyfish getting washed ashore, not an exceptional amount of jellyfish in conjunction with other oceanic flora and fauna. We both thought this just wasn't quite right, but we just assumed it was because of our lack of knowledge of ocean ecosystems (we didn't actually say that, I think the literal words were "This doesn't seem right, but I don't know shit about the ocean.") But we proceeded on, avoiding the jellyfish and dead fish because they just feel messed up when you step on them with your bare feet. But we just rambled on over the seaweed, because... well, it's just seaweed. If I knew then what I know now I not only wouldn't have stepped on it, I would have gone the fuck back inside and never came out again. |
| − | So as we meandered along the shore, we carried on. As we progressed though, the shoreline became worse and worse. Just dead things, everywhere. Somewhere in the Universe a Jedi was weeping. It was really quite gross, I'm | + | So as we meandered along the shore, we carried on. As we progressed though, the shoreline became worse and worse. Just dead things, everywhere. Somewhere in the Universe a Jedi was weeping. It was really quite gross, I'm surprised we went as far as we did. I know I was thinking it, but I think it would deny my masculinity if I wanted to stop with my friend because I thought something was gross. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing, but unfortunately, we'll never know. But to get back to my point, I was completely flabbergasted by how much worse it was getting as we went down the beach, but we pressed on anyway. |
| − | Eventually we began to hear this strange sound. It was like an | + | Eventually we began to hear this strange sound. It was like an eerie combination of crunching and fizzing. I could feel the goosebumps forming on my skin and my arm hair stretching away from my body, trying to escape from this cryptic situation. But like fools, we pressed on. And the sound grew ever greater and as we continued to here it from on ahead we could begin to hear it slowly coming out from the sea, then behind us. It was slowly enveloping us from all sides, but we were so enthralled by this sound that we had to investigate that we remained oblivious to the fact that the Reaper had us in his grasp. |
| + | |||
| + | It was about this time that I confronted Peter about these strange circumstances. Or perhaps he was the one that brought it up, I don't recall. At this point it's all so trivial. I guess for the sake of story telling, I brought it up because I couldn't dare emasculate someone who could no longer defend himself. But getting back to the story, I finally listened to my gut and spoke up about this... this monstrous, evil cacophony. I expressed my worry and my eagerness to retreat. Peter felt conflicted about this decision, for he too was being affected by the surrounding sounds. But he also felt the need to explore. This is the sound that few have ever heard, and to resist the urge to determine the source would defy basic human curiosity. So what it boiled down to in our minds was flee, save ourselves for another day, or feed our insatiable hunger for knowledge. But I think Peter made up his mind rather quickly. It only took a quick round of debate, which mostly consisted of chicken noises at the end, to convince me to go. Not to mention, I knew if I didn't he would make fun of me for the rest of my life for missing out on something so potentially phenomenal. | ||
| + | |||
| + | What we had failed to notice while making this tragic decision was that the coast was exponentially increasing in debris. Even in the spots where the tide couldn't possibly reach, barring a hurricane. But I assure you, the surf was at a dead calm. So when we did finish our little debacle, I noticed something very peculiar. A muscle (or possibly a clam or something else that comes in a shell) was lying close to our feet. And resonating from it was some of the fizzing we've been hearing for the past 30 minutes or so. Upon further inspection, it wasn't just making a fizzing sound, but the shell was fizzing open. It was like there was some sort of acid eating through it. To test this theory, Peter pulled a piece of beach grass and ran it into the fizzing section, only to find it was brittle. So brittle that the piece of grass just went straight through the shell. He withdrew the stalk and we inspected it. It too was now fizzing and we could see it fizzing all the way up the grass. We let it go in the sand for a moment and watched. It took about a minute for the entire eight inch stalk to finish fizzing, and when it was it had turned this ashen gray colour. We didn't dare touch it because we had no idea what it would do to us. We may have been twelve, but we weren't dumb. So I grabbed another piece of beach grass and pressed it against the ashen blade of grass. Immediately upon contact the stalk fell apart like the ash at the end of a used cigarette. | ||
To Be Continued... | To Be Continued... | ||
Revision as of 00:20, 20 October 2007
Before I go on, yes, kelp is a vegetable. Which is why this is such a once in a lifetime event. I have no idea how often this happens, but I saw it... once.
It was July 7, 1997, in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I was out on the beach, going for a late night stroll with my friend Peter. We had a flashlight with us to see what was going on around us, seeing as how the moonlight was obscured by cloud cover. We're chatting about this, that, and everything else as we mosey along. You know, we talk about everything two 12 year olds do talk about: video games, sports, school, aspirations, how much our parents suck, movies, tv, and how girls aren't looking so icky anymore. Anyway, we're going along when Pete first makes the observation that there's a lot of crap being washed in tonight. Mostly seaweed, but we're also getting more dead fish, jellyfish, and debris then normal. I mean, a LOT more than normal. I know occasionally a lot of jellyfish will die and get washed in after a storm and things like that, but it's usually just jellyfish getting washed ashore, not an exceptional amount of jellyfish in conjunction with other oceanic flora and fauna. We both thought this just wasn't quite right, but we just assumed it was because of our lack of knowledge of ocean ecosystems (we didn't actually say that, I think the literal words were "This doesn't seem right, but I don't know shit about the ocean.") But we proceeded on, avoiding the jellyfish and dead fish because they just feel messed up when you step on them with your bare feet. But we just rambled on over the seaweed, because... well, it's just seaweed. If I knew then what I know now I not only wouldn't have stepped on it, I would have gone the fuck back inside and never came out again.
So as we meandered along the shore, we carried on. As we progressed though, the shoreline became worse and worse. Just dead things, everywhere. Somewhere in the Universe a Jedi was weeping. It was really quite gross, I'm surprised we went as far as we did. I know I was thinking it, but I think it would deny my masculinity if I wanted to stop with my friend because I thought something was gross. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing, but unfortunately, we'll never know. But to get back to my point, I was completely flabbergasted by how much worse it was getting as we went down the beach, but we pressed on anyway.
Eventually we began to hear this strange sound. It was like an eerie combination of crunching and fizzing. I could feel the goosebumps forming on my skin and my arm hair stretching away from my body, trying to escape from this cryptic situation. But like fools, we pressed on. And the sound grew ever greater and as we continued to here it from on ahead we could begin to hear it slowly coming out from the sea, then behind us. It was slowly enveloping us from all sides, but we were so enthralled by this sound that we had to investigate that we remained oblivious to the fact that the Reaper had us in his grasp.
It was about this time that I confronted Peter about these strange circumstances. Or perhaps he was the one that brought it up, I don't recall. At this point it's all so trivial. I guess for the sake of story telling, I brought it up because I couldn't dare emasculate someone who could no longer defend himself. But getting back to the story, I finally listened to my gut and spoke up about this... this monstrous, evil cacophony. I expressed my worry and my eagerness to retreat. Peter felt conflicted about this decision, for he too was being affected by the surrounding sounds. But he also felt the need to explore. This is the sound that few have ever heard, and to resist the urge to determine the source would defy basic human curiosity. So what it boiled down to in our minds was flee, save ourselves for another day, or feed our insatiable hunger for knowledge. But I think Peter made up his mind rather quickly. It only took a quick round of debate, which mostly consisted of chicken noises at the end, to convince me to go. Not to mention, I knew if I didn't he would make fun of me for the rest of my life for missing out on something so potentially phenomenal.
What we had failed to notice while making this tragic decision was that the coast was exponentially increasing in debris. Even in the spots where the tide couldn't possibly reach, barring a hurricane. But I assure you, the surf was at a dead calm. So when we did finish our little debacle, I noticed something very peculiar. A muscle (or possibly a clam or something else that comes in a shell) was lying close to our feet. And resonating from it was some of the fizzing we've been hearing for the past 30 minutes or so. Upon further inspection, it wasn't just making a fizzing sound, but the shell was fizzing open. It was like there was some sort of acid eating through it. To test this theory, Peter pulled a piece of beach grass and ran it into the fizzing section, only to find it was brittle. So brittle that the piece of grass just went straight through the shell. He withdrew the stalk and we inspected it. It too was now fizzing and we could see it fizzing all the way up the grass. We let it go in the sand for a moment and watched. It took about a minute for the entire eight inch stalk to finish fizzing, and when it was it had turned this ashen gray colour. We didn't dare touch it because we had no idea what it would do to us. We may have been twelve, but we weren't dumb. So I grabbed another piece of beach grass and pressed it against the ashen blade of grass. Immediately upon contact the stalk fell apart like the ash at the end of a used cigarette.
To Be Continued...
