Copyright 2012 by E.R. Mason
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. The primary characters, incidents, and dialogues are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is coincidental.
I was surf fishing off the rocks at Port Canaveral when they arrived. You are not allowed to fish off the rocks, so I was gambling I could bring something in before the beach patrol showed up and brought me in.
It was the perfect time of day. The morning’s peak tide was just beginning to ease out, encouraging the pompano to gather beyond the breakers where they waited to collect sand fleas before the beach line became too shallow.
They don’t like you out on the rocks because it’s easy to fall and if you do you will almost certainly be seriously hurt. Then the paramedics must do their least favorite imitation of Laurel and Hardy trying to maneuver a body board out onto the jagged breakwater to bring you in. My six-foot-two frame would be an added disappointment to them if such an incident did occur, and I already have enough scars here and there to commemorate the philosophy of not obeying rules. But, there it is.