Please Do Not Visit The Ocean Until You Complete ...

1. Please raise your right hand.: I do so raise it.; Thanks, I’ll pass.; I will raise a fistful of twine.; I am already in the ocean.

2. Do you swear upon your love of fish and kelp that you will go into the Ocean only for good, and not for evil?: I so swear.; Hell no way. I’m going to be a fiasco on the shore with my leaf blower.; I so swear, but I don’t much care about good or evil. I just want to tie a bundle of fish together with twine and show it to my parents.; I don’t remember going to the Ocean, but here I am, bobbing along.

3. Do you promise to observe the dress code of the Ocean? That is, short-sleeve romper of baby-blue seersucker for men; shorts suit of white vinyl for women; and knit body scarf and pleather belt for the gender nonconforming?: I so promise.; I’ve got something to say, and it’s “Nuts to your dress code.” There’s just no guarantee I won’t show up nude as Sunday afternoon aside from my leaf blower holster, ready to permanently close a beach with my bullshit.; This I can’t swear to, as I will be wrapped up tight in cut-up black trash bags so the fish I’m going to grab and bundle together won’t even see me coming, like an angel of death. I will make my parents proud and tired.; I can’t see the shore anymore.

4. Do you swear on a brine-soaked Bible to maintain a calm and decorous conduct in the presence of the Ocean, and not spit, cuss, give birth, or be given birth to?: I so swear.; Yeah, maybe, if you slice off my arms, legs, and goddamn mouth. Otherwise, me and my cacophonous taped-up leaf blower are blasting up a cloud of sand and froth inside which I’ll be a nasty little devil.; I have no such Bible. I have my twine, and I have a ball-peen hammer to stun fish with, and my bone-tired parents are sitting in a parked car in the surf. Vow or no, I will do as I will, and I will bundle up some fish.; I don’t know where I am. There are no landmarks in the Ocean. Please come find me.

5. And do you pledge, above all else, to toss a few bucks in there on your way out?: I so pledge, even as much as a fifty, if I have one on me.; The one and only thing I plan to leave is the oiliest gull carcass I can scrounge up, fired at hellacious velocity out of—you guessed it—my one true leaf blower. How’s that for a kiss-off?; I pledge nothing. I am the hunter, and I stalk the shallows, twine in hand, under the watchful, heavy-lidded gaze of my numerous parents. Whim and blood instinct alone will decide if I tip the sea.; I’m cold. The Ocean water is making me very cold.

6. Please let us now observe a moment of guided reflection on the Ocean. For before its wet behemoth bulk we are mere raisins, and no matter how many cars we drive in there, it will always have room for a few more. And though it will one day be turned to powder by nuclear mischief or scientific goof-up, or simply get sucked down a hole, the Ocean will never be forgotten, so long as man continues to go to the beach.: Yes.; Not a chance! My leaf blower knows no calm, and my boorish nature cannot be contained by the mere suggestion of nicety.; Sure.; Help.

7. Amen.: Yes.; I don’t say that word.; Sure.; I’m going to die here.; I’m going to die here.; I’m going to die here.; I’m going to die here.

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