He stood up now and peered out over the broad green waters.
Once again there was a familiar flailing of arms. The lifeguards
were on duty, so this time the boy was carried to safety by
professionals.
Yak walked over to the assembling crowd. The lifeguards were
angry and frustrated. This was not the first time they had extricated
him from the ocean.
“God damn it, shithead. How many times do you expect us to
save your ass?” yelled one bronzed athlete.
“Next time we’ll just let the fish eat you,” cried another.
“If you can’t swim, you shouldn’t go in the water,” grumbled a
young woman impressionistically painted in waterproof cosmetics.
Their swimsuits were all bright red and their skin was deeply
tanned. The boy, in contrast, was sickly pale and clad in a ratty “Don’t
Tread on Me” T-shirt. He looked as if he had been tread on
repeatedly. The lifeguards seemed prepared to do just that.
“I can swim,” the boy spluttered, “You just keep interrupting
me.”
The young rescuers, guardians of life, appeared ready to play for
the other team. Instead, they swallowed their spite and decided to
call the police.
Before they could, Yak strolled in among them. “Aha! You’ve
caught him,” he said.
“Caught who?” the woman said.
“The Fishman of Sassafras!” Yak answered, “We’ve been tailing
him for weeks. He’s a master criminal, this one.”
“He is not. He’s just a pain in the ass. We’ve saved him from
drowning four times this week. He’s just a punk.”
“Yeah? Well this punk has been involved in major lifeguard
station theft all the way up the coast. You run out and save him and
his partner goes into the station and steals all your valuables. Pretty
clever.” Yak pointed to the raised wooden bungalow behind them.
“There aren’t any valuables in the lifeguard station. There’s
nothing.” one of them replied.
Yak had not counted on this. He assumed lifeguarding was a
high-tech operation. Television shows featuring California lifeguards
were the most popular entertainment in the entire world—even
illiterate tea farmers in Indonesia religiously gathered every week to
watch. From the point of view of the average peasant, the whole
ABYSSINIA
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