FOUR: CRAZY THE NICK AND HIS FIRST MATE MARLEEN

Crazy the Nick and his first mate Marleen had an arms collection they kept under their arms, which were under their oars. Only when it got hairy, as in bushy beard hairy, would they take out a pumping action revolver and point it at no special. Sky said so to them with its clouds and filth but they give it back their own tell-to, they shout out a loud enough answer.

When the boats rocked their socks off, when the sails drooped for Wednesday, when the time came to wave movement and they had to roll up the window screens. They took a sip and then a nap, they wore a vest of each two cups.

Blast if it wasn’t a blister on the rock. Blow it up if it wasn’t that wrinkle that bothered them. But they were up for an atom or a smirk, but they were waiting for just such an entertainment tidal wave.

“How about another ale,” she said, with that underwater way. “How about another spit,” and did so, right on target.

“I don’t know,” was all that Nick could do, and never was so true, and never was so true.

When Cyclops came to their boat in the puddle, he wore his galoshes so socks would not soggy. He saw how they handled the wind in their air, he saw how they combed it quite fast in their hair, he saw how they had just a small drink for tea, but they didn’t invite he, they just looked down at his knee.

“It’s a fine tea afternoon,” said Cyclops.

“It’s an ale of a day,” said Marlene.

“It’s a nice spit to be in,” said Crazy the Nick, but he wasn’t so crazy, it just was his name. In fact he had some common sense, and Marlene too was common, and it was just this grasp of basic facts that Cyclops wanted to dig in.

Cyclops did his social, just some nodding and some smiling, and he sat his time in oarboats and he rowed his way to see them.

This time he wanted to take the right road there, this time in his asking he wished for a proper entrance ramp. He did not want to rock the boat with his first fast words, he did not want to ocean from some good advice that might be there.

“Dingy Bahsome?” he asked the question, but they didn’t know the answer. Marlene thought he might have been talking about a kind of sea bird, but Cyclops said he wasn’t.

So Cyclops did describe her, of the fair hair and the dresses, of her quiet ways with cameras, and her roaming of the channels. He painted pictures of her, on the rocking puddle afternoon, he made them see her just as if she came on their TV.

“She sounds so worldly wonderful,” Marlene said so and perhaps meant it.

“She sounds as fine as a doorbell rung by a true doormaster.” And it was Nick the Crazy who said so, with his crazy eyes and talking points.

“If there was somebody,” and this is Cyclops going on,” who was so perfect as she is, don’t you think you wouldn’t want to be, wouldn’t care to be, not just a little, not just a bittle, but a lot and a bought and an always be just her?”

Marlene and Nick had to think about this one, and they thought by going boating, whether water or whether not. They couldn’t come up with an answer, but they twiddled with their main sails, they didn’t say a single thing at all, but you can tell by their tacking that they think someone is wacking.

“I don’t need you, not this time,” said Cyclops, now that leaving. “I don’t need your help in all this case, I’ll find it by my own true self.”

And as they watched him wander, as they watched his one with all their twos, they couldn’t help but wish him best, wish him all the best in his two shoes. But they also thought about that pumping action revolver they had, too, just in case Cyclops went a bit quite much gunshot far.