One
Burl was a fisherman. He made his money selling fish at the river’s edge and carried a sword to keep away those who didn’t want fish sold. If there were no fish then one could find Burl pacing behind the local depot, flipping a coin with one hand and practicing a toothy snarl with each step; sword strapped to his back. This is how Burl spent much of his time, but it doesn’t do him justice to leave it at this.
At the time when Burl was alive, it was well established that there were giants living nearby. They slept at river bottoms, extending their long limbs down the riverbank, empty mouths heaving. Due to their ability to blend in well with mud and rocks and a tumultuous landscape they could best be identified by their teeth; that would be where it looked like the rocks were staggered in an alignment that stood out from the rest of the riverbank. One might also note that their mossy lips were filled with hooks. Idiots as they were, the behemoths were never able to resist the temptation of a waterlogged, long-dead worm. It is also true that a hook in the lip is a much smaller thing for a giant than it is for a fish.
Burl was known amongst locals as a half-wit. He was partially sane and still a useful person. He appointed himself night watchman and would be the first to notify the vigilantes of any foul play in the community. However, his region included mostly the riverbank and the back of the depot so most of what he witnessed was acts committed by transients unfamiliar with the area and Burl’s omnipresence. He rarely retired to sleep, though he did have a home. He spent his time roaming the streets watching for mischief or dropping off the catch of the day with anyone who was too disabled to travel far by themselves.
Burl had a soft spot for those less fortunate, but as for everyone else? They could fuck themselves. To be less fortunate than Burl himself is a controversial arrangement, but Burl had a feeling about those who were in need while he himself did not suffer from want of things. Burl’s sword was an indication that he was defensive in character and felt as though any of his actions could solicit an oppositional response from others.
On the particular occasion that we’re about to examine, Burl was knuckling his way up away from the river like a feeble chimpanzee. On toward the depot he traveled, moving his stinky fingers over his shoulder to tinker with the hilt of his sword. He was ready for those who didn’t want him to cross the avenue at the particular place where he was about to. As he stepped out he revealed his well-practiced fiendish snarl and threw his hands up in disgust for any potential contraposition to his actions.
Burl was carrying three fish, one which he would carry to Winifred. On his way to Winnie’s shack he would slip his hand into the window of the slaughterhouse and vigorously flip off the competition. Old Winnie would drag herself to the door with a scrap of paper to wrap the fish in and a monetary contribution. Burl would give a nod in acknowledgment of the exchange before wiping the fish scales from his hands to her screen door and then depart.
On this day Burl then ambled down the alley and made a left toward the orphanage. He’d slip a fish into the cook’s fish bowl in the kitchen and accept a trade for some bread and a hard-boiled egg on most occasions. The cook would make an indulgent soup for the children consisting of one mashed up fish, bones and all, and about 5 gallons of lukewarm water. Whoever got the broken head was the lucky one.
Today they were waiting for Burl with a different offer. In an attempt to rid themselves of a problematic child they proposed that Burl take on an apprentice.
Burl listened insanely with one eyebrow raised above a bugging eyeball and his tongue against the back of his teeth, ready to punctuate their proposal by hawking his mouth juice toward their feet. He had a sense of the fact that the children at the orphanage found him exceedingly frightening to behold. He knew that the speakers were dishonest about their intentions and the sole purpose of dumping a kid off with the fisherman would be to scare the bejeezus out of the offending child and have something to talk about later. Burl actually contemplated the opportunity and responded with wit. He acted on his compassion and spite together and said, “Gimme him. Gim to me.”
A huge boy was nudged forward. He was nearly as tall as the presenting official. He gaped at Burl; taking in up-close the fishy smell of the man. Burl had a weasel face. His upper lip didn’t go down far enough which allowed his gnarly two front teeth and gums to perform. His bottom jaw was massive and since he had no teeth on the bottom his wiggly tongue always visible. He looked like a fucking animal. His eyes consumed his surroundings. His voice was so crackly that his words were difficult to discern. He licked his lips when he saw the boy and looked like he might eat him.
The young man’s name was Lyle. He was a different kind of child. Mostly that’s because he was an asshole. However his situation did not offer remedy to his shortcomings. He had no idea the ways that his life would change from this point forth…
Two
Lyle accompanied Burl to the depot for a forty-five minute patrol. Eventually a little bum approached to make a lame joke to the gargantuan boy, “Oh hello, sir, are you gone give your son a bath some day or what?” The grinning man gestured toward Burl, who was making an utterly demented and impractical expression. Burl’s mouth was vastly agape and curled down at the corners. He had a simultaneous look of horror and disgust. His eyebrows were madly furrowed and his eyes were nearly out of his head. This was often the kind of exaggerated physical presentation that Burl made in response to social interaction. It looked like there wouldn’t be any action that night.
Burl mostly avoided speaking to or acknowledging the child, but eventually traipsed onward to the river expecting the boy to follow. Lyle followed hesitantly. He was young enough to feel that he ought to depend on an adult. He’d never been on his own and was terribly afraid of the dark, even if he was an asshole. Burl made a fire on the riverbank in his usual spot and prepared the third fish. Lyle was relieved that the man ate food. They each had a side of the fish and then Lyle slept and was an asshole in his dreams. Burl held his sword out over the flames and snarled.
In the morning Lyle awoke cold, but found the sound of the rushing water to be a pleasant change from the sounds at the orphanage. Burl was fishing, of course, and already had a number of fish in his basket. He was sneering wildly.
When he came back to Lyle all he said was, “Ha.”
They took the fish up behind the depot. A few people were already there to see what Burl had today. Chef Lloyd was eager to pick out the largest fish. The chef was talented at overlooking the fact that Burl was weird. Chef Lloyd was wearing his crazy, puffy, chef hat and bonky pants. He looked like an acceptable nut job. “Well, thank you, Burl. It’s a pleasure to work with you again.” Burl stared at him for a moment as though he was hearing the voice of God speaking directly to him, then he turned to the next customer. He carefully attuned his senses in preparation for any naysayers.
Lyle was a total asshole the whole time. Everyone just looked at him and thought, “God, what a little asshole.”
Burl made good money that day. He felt happy and went back down to the river. Lyle followed him, doing this stupid little asshole dance the whole way there. It was incredibly offensive.
At the water Burl set his sword down and put his line in the water. His expression was that of someone braced for impact in the cockpit of a plummeting aircraft. He was using worms that he had bought with the fish money. He felt like the fish would want worms.
The worm sat on Burl’s hook for a very long time, eventually going limp with its guts busting out of little holes here and there.
Before long the entire length of the riverbed rose up, way up out of the water. Mud and rocks flew in all directions. Burl had snagged himself a bitch giant. Lyle actually stopped being an asshole for a moment as he witnessed the enormous beast rising from the water.
The woman cleared the water from her eyes and tugged at the hook in her huge upper lip, flinging the worm to the ground. Burl and Lyle expected her to throw a big, huge, giant fit and do something annoying. Instead she was not concerned about the hook or worm at all. She peered closely into Lyle’s face and cried out, “My son! What is my son doing here? Lyle, is that you?”
Then Burl looked at the giant, “Lacietta? Lacietta! I love you. I missed ya so mutsch. I thought ya wers dead.”
“No, no…I went to give birth to our baby at the giant hospital. Then I had to hide him from everyone because he is part human. I left him at the human orphanage...”
Burl turned to Lyle affectionately, “No wundr you are such an asshole, you part-giant little fuck!”
Then the worm sat up and rolled his eyes while gesturing that he was jerking himself off, using the opportunity to exaggerate the size of his penis, before climbing down into the cool earth for eternity.
