I wanted this to eventually turn into some kind of absurdist nonsense without much of a resolution. Now it's just the awkward beginning of a Will Forte sketch.

The narrator reminds me of some of the old "Suspense" radio shows a little.

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Old Fisherman's Story

Date of original writing: August 5th, 2012

“The venture did not go as planned. We came back from the boat with little to show for ourselves but soggy dress and sour dispositions. Our goal had been an admirable one. At least that's what we had advertised it as on the posters.”

I looked up from my laptop and noticed a haggard looking man at the table on my right. He was dressed in simple brown pants and a grey overcoat that had seen more years than I would care to guess. I did guess that he was nearly sixty or so which put him well past the point of belonging in this particular coffee shop at this particular time of night.

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or not. I had never seen him or spoken to him before. The volume at which he had been speaking meant only one of two things. Either he was speaking to me, the closest person to him and the only one within earshot, or he was out of his goddamn mind. I was in the middle of a pumpkin spice latte and a fairly decent blog entry on the subject of the concept of “Seafoam Green” so I wasn't keen on diving into another man's madness.

There was something to him though. Something that made him more than just another out of place old man. Maybe it was the beard.

I risked it, “Excuse me, are you- Are you talking to me?”

The man turned in his chair just enough to glare at me properly. "That depends on how much you're listening."

"I'm just trying to get some work done. If this is important just say so and get to the point. Otherwise I'll just be…"

I turned back to my computer and tried to regain my train of thought.