Friday, January 27, 2006

Depth Cords

Even the dumbest squid I ever met could have been a world-class harpist had it only a harp to play.
--Harvey Cousteau (Jacques' younger brother.)

You know what Latigo Flint finds odd? Few, if any, musical instruments are designed to be played in underwater caves. That's probably why squid are so lonely. Hell, I've got half a mind to bolt waterproof lights to xylophones and harps, and declare myself an innovator.

Women adore that sort of thing--I'd probably do very well in that department. They'd approach me, holding the latest issue of Popular Science, intently comparing my face to the one on the cover.

"It's really you." She'd gush. "The one who invented musical instruments designed to be played in underwater caves."
We'd chat for a bit and then I'd produce scuba gear and invite her to an underwater cave for private concert. It wouldn't take but three songs at most before we'd be making love. The squid wouldn't dare swim into the cave and interrupt 'cause they'd know if they do, they lose underwater harp playing privileges for a week.

And squid have almost no concept of time, which would make every one of a week of minutes all the more agonizing.

"Has it been a week yet?" The squid would ask. "Can I play the underwater harp now?"

"No you stupid squid." I'd reply, turning from the girl to glare over my shoulder. "It's only been a minute, and guess what? You've just tacked on another week!"

"Awwww!" The squid would cry, and squoosh itself back to the open sea, where it'd probably be eaten by a whale. And its death, while tragic, would teach the other squid a very valuable lesson: They're allowed to play my underwater cave harp anytime they like, except when I'm in there, using it to romance a girl.

Then sooner or later someone would turn my story into a made for TV movie. And they'd probably add a scary scene with a shark, even if that never actually happened in real life. The executives would say, "Look. You can't have a movie about a man who plays harps and xylophones for women in underwater caves without at least one scary scene with a shark! The audience is going to feel cheated and angry."

And you know something? They're probably right.


At 2:06 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

This is the stupidest thing I've ever read.
--Harvey Cousteau

At 5:42 AM, Blogger Peter said...

Boy that Harvey has no sense of humor at all Latigo.

At 8:04 AM, Anonymous Mr. Scoop said...

I don't think you've thought this thing through, Latigo. First of all, the only way you're wooing a lady with music while you're wearing gunbelts over a lycra wetsuit is if you're willing commit and also throw on a police cap and do YMCA. And you can't even do the roller rink YMCA arm dance while you're playing the harp. And regardless of execution, if she's willing to buy into that concept to begin with? Check her real close for an Adam's apple. There's a reason no one ever did a water ballet version of The Crying Game; no one wants it.

Plus, idle rumor is that high C on a harp played underwater is the exact mechanical resonance frequency that makes squids spray uncontrollably. And not in that good inky way.

But maybe I'm wrong. What am I, a botanist?

At 11:52 AM, Blogger Francis Marion Tarwater said...

Amazing. There's really nothing else I can say.

At 3:07 PM, Blogger Cad Grublygold said...

I'd watch it, I know a thing or two about living in dark places.

At 3:20 PM, Blogger Trevor Record said...

I would rust-proof those instruments as well as strap lights to them. Maybe look into some pirate-proofing as well. If there is one thing a pirate enjoys more than grog, it is the majestic sound of a harp played over the ambient noise of the ocean. I'm certain that any pirate would give up his only intact limb for an underwater harp.

At 7:06 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

I never thought of that: a squid playing drums -- a LOT of drums.

At 8:16 PM, Blogger Gareth said...

I always thought a combination scuba gear mouthpiece / harmonica would be a good idea. Make some use out of all that air that would otherwise bubble away tunelessly.

At 7:14 AM, Blogger Amandarama said...

Squids just don't get it, do they? And it's really hard to put them into "time-out". They just squirt ink everywhere and run away. And the miasma of squid ink floating in the brine really detracts from a romantic, girl-wooing atmosphere. Or does it?

At 6:22 PM, Blogger Dario Tsunami said...

Been a while since I last visited, and I just wanted to say, I love what you've done with the place.

But that wouldn't quite live up to the level I'm trying to get at. So how's this. I'm absolutely astounded with what you've done with the place.

Yeah, that's closer.

At 7:00 PM, Blogger Ari said...

In the sequel, you could have a scene where the whales discover a singing frequency that mimics the sound of the underwater cave harp, thereby luring musical squids into danger.

p.s. You haven't been watching too much Spongebob out on the lonesome prairie, have you Latty?

At 12:51 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

Harvey Cousteau!!! I'm so very honored right now, you have no idea. Harvey Cousteau everyone, Harvey fricken Cousteau!

Getting the Bends one too many times will do that Peter.

Mr. Scoop, I have killed men for insults a tenth the severity this. You're fortunate I'm in love with your wife, very fortunate indeed. But woe unto you should you prove to actually be a botanist.

You're angling for a signed copy of Popular Science, aren't you Solace Layfield? Well it worked my friend, it's in the mail.

I know you do Grublygold, I know you do. Here be dragons and whatnot, right? (I'm a gray ghost too you know?)

I'm not afraid of pirates Trevor Record, not even a little bit--but your point on rust is well taken. Rust knows no mercy, it cannot be reasoned with nor bribed.

Howdy Old Hoss. Rumor has it Neil Peart is an eight squid, on his mother's side.

That is nothing short of brilliant Gareth. Well done. (You're in for a disappointment if you try to patent it though--and don't compare the date of your comment with that of the awarded submission, you're only going to curse yourself when you see they match.)

"Miasma" is a serious word there Amandarama. I'm not ashamed to admit I had to look it up. I don't know everything, and my frailty only makes me more magnificent.

Thank you very much Dario. I strive to astound--anything less is failure, and my self-inflicted penalties are absolute.

That's a metaphor for something, isn't it Ari? (Yes, think it's probably safe to say I've been watching waaaaay too much Spongebob out on the lonesome prairie.)


Post a Comment

<< Home