Vol. I: No.8

Editor: Tom Sullivan (a head full of blarney)

Contents

Breakers........................................................................................................f

Surf...............................................................................................................aou

Flotsam & Jetsam........................................................................................lup

Spray.............................................................................................................11

The Bridge (Hauck's Hell-Fire)........................................................................e

Waves.............................................................................................................d

Breakers: from the diary of Seaweed Sully (in the style of Mark Twain).

Have you ever seen a swimming meet? I mean a real one that lasts from dawn till dark; a screaming, scheming, steaming convention of kids? Well, I reckon I have, 'cause it finally happened to me--my big chance. The Cap'n entered me in one of those affairs, a genuine age-group riot and, with all due respect, I'm not beholden' to him for it. I figure this year is only 364 days long for me because that day was lost. It remains only as a throbbing echo in my memory, one long blast of hot air and shrill voices. But I'm getting ahead of my story. Let me go back to that morning when I walked into the building with the cement pond in it, as innocent as a babe and twice as vulnerable.

It all took place in a town called ( * ). The day was cool and calm, belying the near future. I allowed that everything was in order, that I would enter this building like all the others and swim in the pond as I had seen others swim at the Christmas meet. But that was an illusion. No sooner had I set foot on the deck when a horde of hysterical people caught me up in their midst, handed me something called "a stop- watch," and allowed that I must time because they were short of officials. They further informed me that I must take off my shirt and appear in an undershirt, since an official had to wear white. I began to accommodate them, but they changed their minds when they saw that my underwear was attached, had long sleeves and legs and was red. It was at that moment that the Cap'n rescued me. He simply blew cigar smoke in the eyes of the other officials and dragged me off to the locker room. I was to swim, not officiate, he said. So I donned my orange and black silk (they are also called "Speedos," I discovered) and went back to the pond. Things were still chaotic there. The meet had begun in a stop-and-go way...

* editor's deletion