The water isn’t actually black but when you are this deep there’s a distinct shortage of light. The sounds are soothing, reminding you that you are not alone. A fact hard to remember when the walls of your current world are inches away in any direction. The only thing keeping you from drifting into another reality is the small window. Everything in here is quiet but you can see all the hustle and bustle just outside. That’s all you can do is see. Its the same show day after day.
The first day is the longest. But its also your first time viewing this channel so you enjoy it while you can. There’s a shark biting the head off a yellow fin tuna. Blood in the water. Bad thought, hungry. There goes some more. Its kind of like the car license plate game. Hmmm, how many can you identify?
Well that’s interesting
– a moray eel is balefully eyeing you while you stare back. Oh, there goes an angelfish. Wow, is that another shark? Its huge! Nah, just a grouper. Big enough to swallow a man but harmless. Hah, kind of like your idiot child. A few snickers at that then back to the aquarium. You don’t even have to pay admission. A little chortle abruptly cut off as you hear how lonely it sounds. Okay, no brooding, not yet. Plenty of time for that later. Oh, must be intermission time, all you see is plankton floating by. Whoa, who opened the gates, so many rushing by there is no time to name. It must be night. Perhaps a little song. Nobody here to complain that you can’t carry a tune.
A Navy sub silently gliding by on maneuvers. An incredulous sonar officer putting the sounds he can’t possibly be hearing on speakers. Crew all over holding their ears at the caterwauling. The Captain orders them turned off for now. It has to be a sound mirage. They can’t possibly be hearing an adult male butchering a song about 99 bottles of – blood? – on the wall. Nobody could survive at this depth without a sub. All tapes are erased and this incident will never be reported. The submarine leaves the area.
“97 bottles of blood on the wall, 97 bottles of blooooood, take one down, pass it around, – ooh, there’s a sea turtle – 96, 97 bottles of blood on the wall.”
That’s strange, the minuscule amount of light is back after only three bottles. Ah well, time seems to flow differently down here. Show seems to be over for now.
Time for the shrink appointment.
“Doctor, my son put me in a coffin and sunk me in the ocean with a shit load of melatonin håndkøb capsules. Should I have put him in one of those youth boot camps? Maybe grounded him more? I guess after he grew up in a Hell dimension I felt too guilty to give him firm guidance. I know they don’t recommend physical discipline these days but if sinking your father in the ocean for all eternity doesn’t earn him a spanking . . . Maybe I could spank Wesley too. Somehow this has really put things in perspective.”
Speaking of perspectives. Holtz. Why didn’t you just kill him when you had a chance. Here you are stuck in the bottom of the ocean for killing the man when you didn’t even have the satisfaction. You really wish you had. If wishes were fishes . . . Hah, there’s a clown-fish. Fishes, fishes, fishes. Oooh, there goes a crab. With eyebrows. And a conductor’s wand. And it’s singing. Knew I should never have watched that movie with Dru.
If you pass by a certain spot deep in the ocean you just might hear the haunting strains of a badly sung, “Under the Sea.”