Well my fellow hawks of the sea, here we are. Ten years removed from those storied glory days of yesteryear. Blast! Where has the time gone I ask? It seems like only last Thursday we were all together, yet alone, in that torrid sanctuary of adolescent angst and agony. That hamlet of pubescent hope and befuddlement. I must say I miss it all. From dodging those keystone cops (Sampson with his mouth full of marbles, and George that clueless baboon of a JV soccer coach) to the D & D kids smoking cloves under the stage in the auditorium. From making out with promiscuous sophomores to cranking butts in my beloved autoshop (where you may remember I kept a small office on the loading dock furnished with beat up couches and empty milk crates). I will never forget those daily looks of consternation from the venerable Mr. Dalton as I strode through the orange sub-school 15 minutes late for Mr. Harris' English class. Oh how squirmed in my seat as I endured Mr. Harris' fire and brimstone lectures on punctuality and my lack there of it. Luckily, I was able to endure as I was armed with the apathetic malaise brought on by morning bingers in Tommy Hoyt's basement (that and my righteous pony tail, assorted quicksilver button ups, and vintage Eagle Starter jacket). But I digress, enough about the past. On with the updating of lives!
After graduation I found myself at a great precipice. University, travel abroad, PeaceCorps. No, not for me. Instead I chose the road less traveled. The open road. I packed up the proverbial nap sack and decided to hitch hike across the lower 48. My adventures were many and often fraught with peril and intrigue. There was my albeit brief stint as a roady on Whitesnakes' "Slithering Bitches" tour in which I was forced to kill a man with his own hands. After working as a small arms dealer I helped broker a cease fire in long standing feud between the "deuce-deuce" bloods and the 92nd street Crips in Los Angeles. I eventually made my way back east where I found myself working on commercial fishing boat, the Big Galoot, of the coast of the America's first state, the small wonder, Delaware. It was there my adoration for the sea was fully realized. We were 95 nautical miles out to sea when I felt and enormous tug at my line. I knew that this battle was going to one for the ages. For the fleetingest of moments I saw myself in an Ahabain struggle, against a beast I could not defeat. After what felt like a fortnight I managed to break the will of the mighty fish and reel her unto the boat. The bounty of this heroic endeavor......a 400lbs tuna. The next several weeks were a bit of a whirlwind. Guest lectures, bonanzas, book signings, boat drinks. I found myself to be a local celebrity with accolades and women strewn across my feet. But there was only one woman for me, my beloved Tonya. After a romantic courtship Tonya and I were wed. We quickly set out to procreate and would soon find ourselves the proud parents of the majestic Katie Rose. A more stunning offspring I have yet to behold.
Just as the hoopla of my nautical escapades had begun to ebb, I was approached by a local television producer who pitched a new show about well, me. "The Big Catch with Big Ed." The premise was simple really. Me on a boat doing what I love the most, drinking Bud Heavies and fishing with my friends. Turns out there was quite a market for it as the show recently won a local Emmy. And would you believe it, my catch phrase, "that fish is fit as a fiddle" has managed to make its way in to the local lexicon. We're going on 3 straight years as the highest rated sports and wildlife program in the entire DelMarVa region. Not too shabby. Well, thats probably a little bit more than you needed to hear about little old big Ed Mchale so thanks for listening. I look forward to seeing the rest of you fictional marine birds in October.
3 comments:
Well my fellow hawks of the sea, here we are. Ten years removed from those storied glory days of yesteryear. Blast! Where has the time gone I ask? It seems like only last Thursday we were all together, yet alone, in that torrid sanctuary of adolescent angst and agony. That hamlet of pubescent hope and befuddlement. I must say I miss it all. From dodging those keystone cops (Sampson with his mouth full of marbles, and George that clueless baboon of a JV soccer coach) to the D & D kids smoking cloves under the stage in the auditorium. From making out with promiscuous sophomores to cranking butts in my beloved autoshop (where you may remember I kept a small office on the loading dock furnished with beat up couches and empty milk crates). I will never forget those daily looks of consternation from the venerable Mr. Dalton as I strode through the orange sub-school 15 minutes late for Mr. Harris' English class. Oh how squirmed in my seat as I endured Mr. Harris' fire and brimstone lectures on punctuality and my lack there of it. Luckily, I was able to endure as I was armed with the apathetic malaise brought on by morning bingers in Tommy Hoyt's basement (that and my righteous pony tail, assorted quicksilver button ups, and vintage Eagle Starter jacket). But I digress, enough about the past. On with the updating of lives!
After graduation I found myself at a great precipice. University, travel abroad, PeaceCorps. No, not for me. Instead I chose the road less traveled. The open road. I packed up the proverbial nap sack and decided to hitch hike across the lower 48. My adventures were many and often fraught with peril and intrigue. There was my albeit brief stint as a roady on Whitesnakes' "Slithering Bitches" tour in which I was forced to kill a man with his own hands. After working as a small arms dealer I helped broker a cease fire in long standing feud between the "deuce-deuce" bloods and the 92nd street Crips in Los Angeles. I eventually made my way back east where I found myself working on commercial fishing boat, the Big Galoot, of the coast of the America's first state, the small wonder, Delaware. It was there my adoration for the sea was fully realized. We were 95 nautical miles out to sea when I felt and enormous tug at my line. I knew that this battle was going to one for the ages. For the fleetingest of moments I saw myself in an Ahabain struggle, against a beast I could not defeat. After what felt like a fortnight I managed to break the will of the mighty fish and reel her unto the boat. The bounty of this heroic endeavor......a 400lbs tuna. The next several weeks were a bit of a whirlwind. Guest lectures, bonanzas, book signings, boat drinks. I found myself to be a local celebrity with accolades and women strewn across my feet. But there was only one woman for me, my beloved Tonya. After a romantic courtship Tonya and I were wed. We quickly set out to procreate and would soon find ourselves the proud parents of the majestic Katie Rose. A more stunning offspring I have yet to behold.
Just as the hoopla of my nautical escapades had begun to ebb, I was approached by a local television producer who pitched a new show about well, me. "The Big Catch with Big Ed." The premise was simple really. Me on a boat doing what I love the most, drinking Bud Heavies and fishing with my friends. Turns out there was quite a market for it as the show recently won a local Emmy. And would you believe it, my catch phrase, "that fish is fit as a fiddle" has managed to make its way in to the local lexicon. We're going on 3 straight years as the highest rated sports and wildlife program in the entire DelMarVa region. Not too shabby. Well, thats probably a little bit more than you needed to hear about little old big Ed Mchale so thanks for listening. I look forward to seeing the rest of you fictional marine birds in October.
Ed is a good friend and lots of laughs even as a fictional character.
This story was part of the oral tradition I learned about in the 4th grade. Great stories passed down through generations although never written down.
Thank you, ryan, for putting finger to key on this one.
Genius.
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