[Critique Group 2] Leonards submission

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

I group 2

 

Since the first two chapters of Merlyn the Magic Turtle have already been  sent to the membership in general, I’m sending the 3rd, as of yet, un submitted chapter. The first 2 chapters are sent as attachments. You may comment on any or all of these, but only the pasted chapter 3 version  is expected.

 

Have fun

 

 



Merlyn Part Three

743 words

 

 

I had always enjoyed paddling through the swamps and islands in South Florida.  Whether on the east or west coast of the state, they were pretty much the same. It was upsetting for me to see the changes that the dredging operations were having on them. But right now, in the sixties, there is no shortage of these mysterious, saltwater places where wild life was abundant. Mangroves are the nurseries for huge populations of sea life.  I was paddling through a series of narrow canals and open water. Concentration was necessary if I didn’t want to get lost.  Mangrove islands and thickets make up one of natures most complex and beautiful mazes that grow along tidal shores.

 

Momentarily, my attention was distracted by an impressive white ibis, landing atop the  mangrove tangle twenty feet away.

 

“Hey, you’re not listening,” Merlyn reprimanded.

 

“I’m sorry. It’s difficult trying to navigate, watch what’s going on around us, and listen to your story at the same time.”

 

“I believe you,” he said sarcastically.  “You said you could walk and chew gum at the same time. By the way, I think you just went off course.”

 

“How would you know?” I asked.

 

“Because I live here, Dummy.”

 

“My name’s Leonard, not Dummy.”

 

“Okay, I apologize, Leonard.  It’s just that I’ve been blathering to deaf ears for the last five minutes. Maybe I should save the story till we get to your campground.”

 

“Good idea. Let’s stick to small talk until then. I really want to listen with my full attention.”

 

“You got a deal, Buddy,” he said good naturedly. “By the way, Leonard, you’ll get us there faster if you cut around the left side of that island.”

 

“Are you sure? I’ll be lost if I do that.”

 

“Do Mexicans eat tortillas? I’m the navigator. You’re the motor. Okay?”

 

“Okay, but if you get us lost, I’m going to have turtle soup for dinner.”

 

“That’s not funny,” he said, as I suppressed a laugh.

 

On the rest of the journey, I learned that a turtle could be a very annoying back-seat driver. Only in this case, it was a top-of-shoulder driver.

 

“Point your bow ten degrees right. Not fifteen degrees. That’s better. There's an oyster bank where you’re headed. It’ll cut your bottom to ribbons. I wish you had a hat so I could get some shade.”  He went on and on until I was really tempted to throw him overboard and call it a day, but finally, our little voyage reached his destination. I could see my car and pup tent perched on the packed sandy surface of my campsite.

 

“The next part of the ride might be a little rough on you, little guy, I said. “ I’m going to have to do a lot of bending over and getting into other positions.  That’s going to make shoulder riding hazardous.”

 

“Good point.  I’ll stay in the tent and leave you to your labors.”

 

I put Merlyn on top of the kayak, dragged it halfway up the sandy beach, carried him to the tent, and said, “I’ll be back in a jiffy. Make yourself at home.”

 

“Do you have any refreshments in a cooler or something?” he asked.

 

As I walked back to the kayak, gathered up my equipment and stored it in my car, I wondered where the turtle had gotten all his camp smarts and other worldly information.   I made a third trip back to the water’s edge, swung the boat over my head and carried it to my campsite.   Then I grabbed my dry ice cooler and dragged it into the tent.   Merlyn had crawled discretely into a corner to get out of my way.

 

“What can I get you, my friend?” I asked

 

“What kind of vegetables do you have?”

 

“There’s lettuce on tuna and rye.”

 

“That sounds good,” he said, “I haven’t had a tuna sandwich for years.”

 

I thought about the absurdity of a turtle who used to eat tuna fish sandwiches. I had to be dreaming. It turned out he was partial to carrots and tomatoes, which he gorged himself on.

 

Afterwards, my new friend relieved himself outside the tent. I settled down in a fabric camp chair and turned on my radio. I was a little concerned that it might sound strange to a passerby to hear someone talking to a turtle, and a little music would offer some degree of auditory privacy.

 

“Okay,” Merlyn said, “Where did I leave off?”  

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