In a little grey town that stood by the sea,
Lived a salty old man, a fisherman he.
Each morning he’d rise and take his small boat,
Row out to sea, then sit there and float
Pole in hand, from morning till night
He’d sit and he’d fish, with nary a bite.
He’d come home each evening, moaning in pain,
But each morning he’d wake up and do it again.
As he rowed back to shore, on one such a day,
He sighed. “I can’t go on living this way.
I’ve fished and I’ve fished with nothing to show!
When they ask if I caught anything I say no!
I’m tired of hearing ‘You worthless old man!’”
And so in his mind, he cooked up a plan.
“A story I’ll tell them!” He snickered with glee,
“of a great deep sea fish, the hyperbole!
A fight we fought, and it was I who won!”
And his mind formed the tale his mouth had begun.
He reached the shore, and was greeted by Pat!
A fisherman too, and a good one at that.
“Worthless old man,” cried Pat, “what’s wrong?
There weren’t any fish in the sea all along?”
“But there was a fish!” the old man replied,
“Its tail was as strong as a horse’s backside!
Its teeth were like needles! It came from the sea!
It’s the wild magnificent hyperbole!”
“A hyperbole? I’ve never seen one!”
Ol’ Pat was unsure. He wasn’t that dumb.
“No! It was there! It was the color of grout!
We fought for an hour, and then it wore out.
I tried to pull the dead fish in the boat,
But it sank to the bottom. Dead things don’t float.”
(Pat should have known, as you and I do,
That dead things DO float. Gee, Pat. Get a clue.)
Soon all the fishermen had heard the tale
Of the fight, the teeth, the long mighty tail.
They ran home and gathered their wives and their kids,
“Come now and hear what Ol’ Worthless did!”
“Tell it again!” the villagers cried,
So the salty old man climbed the hillside.
From his grassy pulpit he addressed the crowd:
“There was a great fish! Its roar was quite loud!
Its tail was as long as a redwood limb.
Its teeth were like knives, it attacked me with them.
His bright silver fin, sharp as my wit,
Cut a hole in my boat! Water got in it.
The fight raged for hours, at least 4 to be sure,
And as night fell the hyperbole died on my lure.
I pulled and I reeled, but the sheer size of the beast
Made it impossible to bring home the feast.”
By now the story had spread through the land
And Channel 12 News came, cameras in hand!
“The mighty hyperbole! How strong is he!
The master of fish who swim in the sea!”
The story was blaring in living rooms all,
“His tail was a building, 12 stories tall!
His teeth were like swords! His scales were bright gold!”
The old man kept changing the story he told.
“We fought for a day, two days, a week!
He pulled me 10 miles. My boat sprung a leak.
It sank to the bottom, and still I hung on
With naught but my reel and my birthday suit on!
And just when I thought I could hold on no more,
It died and it sank, miles from shore.
“I swam and I swam, all day and all night.
I finally reached shore, and but for my plight,
I’d have a great bounty of fish to report.
And that’s why I came back empty to port.”
To that little grey town came Presidents, Popes
and families from Monroe, Ohio in hopes
that the salty old man would again tell his tale
of that fish (who had grown to the size of a whale).
Like some Biblical prophet, his voice loud and clear
He preached to the people from the end of the pier.
But down in the depths something had heard the roar
Of the masses that gathered there by the shore.
The salty old man, chest swelling with pride
Saw nothing else as he stood up and cried:
“Behold! I have slain the hyperbole,
The master of fish who live in the sea!
His tail was a mountain..!” but that’s all we are told,
For just then the hyperbole swallowed him whole.
when I have the office to myself
JT’s hair was hashtag: ON POINT last night. I want it.
Vogue Russia Oct 1998 - Jaime King by Neil Kirk
I met her one time in a Whole Foods. We talked about gelato and I didn’t realize it was her til we left. #illdoyouonebetter.