Last Wednesday: A Surfer's Tale
By BP Black
Copyright 2012 Benjamin Black
Smashwords Edition
The day had finally arrived. On this day, Jimmy would be made a member of the club.
Jimmy had been surfing the point since he was a boy. He had spent his formative years there. The point had become a part of Jimmy, but he'd yet to be accepted into the club. It was the point's innermost circle.
The idea had been hinted at for some time. Jimmy wanted nothing more than the club's approval, but in the same manner that a Pope must be silent on his desire to become Pope, Jimmy could never be the one to approach the barrier that existed between the club and himself. His desire was known by all, but it could never be publicly acknowledged until the club itself was ready.
On this morning, a thick fog concealed the point. As Jimmy slipped his wetsuit on, a smug feeling of self-assuredness crept over him. Today would be the day, he thought. He looked over at Narwhal, also suiting up. Something about the look on Narwhal's face seemed to confirm this suspicion. There was a wild look in Narwhal's eye; the kind he always had when the surf was good. His sinister grin reflected a masochistic fascination with big-wave hold-downs and life-or-death barrels over dry reef. Jimmy suspected the guy actually enjoyed getting pounded.
The buoys were bouncing wildly, the wind was slightly offshore. The Boys waxed their sticks and tugged at their leashes. And though the waves remained unseen, the sense of frenzied necessity among the club was as thick as the fog which kept the point hidden. The pulse of the swell was most certainly was being felt already, though the thrill of waveriding had yet to be experienced.
Jimmy grabbed his thruster and immersed himself into the water, with the same stylish nonchalance he'd been known for since he was a grom. The frigid water made Jimmy's balls shrivel. He hated the feeling, because since he was a boy he'd been taught to associate his balls with valor in the surf. Those lacking balls would never be admitted into the club. But after last Wednesday, his balls could no longer be called into question.
Last Wednesday was very special for Jimmy. A particularly vicious low pressure pressure system sent the swell of the decade to the point, it's powerful lines intimately wrapping around the point with spectacular fury. They said it hadn't been that good in years. Maybe ever. Last Wednesday was the greatest day of surf seen in a generation, and Jimmy had gotten the wave of the day.
As a goofyfooter, he was forced to surf the point backside, forever the ugly duckling amongst the natural-foots. A black sheep. His impaired perspective severely limited his surfing. It was the source of much personal embarrassment for him, as his peers were particularly ruthless. He'd once dropped in on Lance, totally unintentionally, and The Boys had to fuck him up. All nine of them, against poor Jimmy. It had been more than two years, but the tension from the thrashing was still heavy between them. They'd left him bloodied on the beach, barely conscious. Last Wednesday was his redemption.
Just after dawn of last Wednesday, Jimmy became the stuff of local lore. He had been sitting way outside of Tanner, who'd long been considered the ruler of the point. The Boys thought he was nuts for setting up so far outside, no one had even conceived of waves breaking that far out. But, straight out of the stuff of Greek Myth, a massive wave rose up to meet the momentous occasion.
Jimmy was super deep. He dropped in late, cranked a huge snap under the exploding lip, and disappeared in to the gaping black pit. He emerged seconds later, only to be swallowed up again. This process repeated itself several times, with increasing ferociousness, until Jimmy was spit out onto the shoulder. The Boys were frothing. Jimmy could no longer be ignored. He had been informally baptized by the ocean itself. He yearned for the moment when the club would recognize the ocean's decision.
Now that this seal had been broken, Jimmy simply had to wait for the surf to get good again to be offered the invitation he had awaited his entire life. He could sense that the today was the day. He'd made it.
As Jimmy and Narwhal made their way to the lineup, they spotted a shadowy figure paddling towards them through the mist. It was Tanner. He informed them that the direction was fucked up and the swell was shit, and that they shouldn't waste their time paddling out. Jimmy's heart practically burst. No sooner than the troubling thought entered Jimmy's mind, did Tanner 's deep-set eyes narrow in response to the silent ejaculation.
Tanner had mentored Jimmy. He'd showed him the ins-and-outs of the break as a young boy. Jimmy respected Tanner, and Tanner watched over Jimmy. He was perhaps the only surfer alive that was more excited about Jimmy finally being admitted into the club than Jimmy was. He invited them back to the car for a toke, which they readily accepted.
Jimmy smiled as they humped it along the path back to the carpark. Maybe today would be the day after all. The feeling of smug confidence had returned. The smile crept back across his lips, blissfully anticipating what lay in store for him. Suddenly, in the depths of his soul, he sensed something like a big set approaching. Jimmy felt brave.
Lance appeared from behind a Eucalyptus tree. He shouted something at Jimmy, but Jimmy couldn't understand it. Lance looked pissed. From out of nowhere, there was a sharp tug at his zipper, and two other hands grabbed his head. Jimmy didn't know which was up. His leash was being wrapped around him, cutting off his circulation. He felt totally helpless.
His cold wetsuit was torn from him, exposing his warm, muscled flesh, still wet from his abbreviated session. He looked up and saw Narwhal leering down at him, quickly disrobing. The same sick smile had returned to his face, even more menacing than before. Narwhal excitedly gestured downward toward his own throbbing swell. Jimmy tensed up; he knew he was about to get worked. Unable to breathe, Jimmy instinctively relaxed, just as Tanner had him instructed him as a boy. Tanner smiled in knowing approval.
The Boys all took turns shredding Jimmy; and The Boys all ripped. When they'd finished, they left him there naked, covered with spit, dirt, and blood. Mucus dripped out of his nose. Endorphins floated through his turbulent blood; he thought of a happy pod of dolphins playing in the surf. Hot tears streamed down his face as he laughed hysterically, balled up in the fetal position. He felt as if he just passed some huge test.
Jimmy was finally part of the club, and through his tears, he saw a set peel along the point, unridden.