TYBEE ISLAND Continued from the May 2017 Beachcomber. Catch up @ http://tybeebeachcomber.com/magazine “They’re in my fridge right now! Wanna see ‘em?” says Bobby, with no sarcasm whatsoever. “Probably some fish you bought at the Tybee Market,” says Cappy. “I promise you, you ain’t gonna find no fish this big at the Tybee Market. Dottie, would you hit me with another tall boy and tequila please, BEFORE I HIT CAPPY HERE!” “You want a pickle back with that Bobby?” Dottie shouts back. “You’re damn right I do!” “Look Bobby,” Cappy says, “I’ll bet you a dollar you can’t catch one single sheepshead in 30 minutes. Let’s go right now!” “Let me just enjoy a few more beers first. When I’m done, I’ll take your bet, but it’s going to be for one hundred dollars. Who the hell only bets a dollar anyway?” says Bobby. “You don’t have a hundred dollars.” “Dollar bet I do?” “Fine!” Bobby pulls a crisp hundred dollar bill out of his back pocket and exclaims, “Todd pays me on Wednesday nights dumb ass.” “Okay Bobby, you’re on! I’ll take that hundred bucks from you. And take your time, it’s not like I’m going fishing in the morning.” “HA! Now give me my dollar Cappy.” They continue to drink and banter back and forth for another hour or so until Bobby is feeling pretty darn good. He finally says, “Alright, a crisp, clean hundred dollar bill says I can catch one sheepshead in less than 30 minutes. Let’s go! Wait … One more tequila Dottie and tab me out, baby.” “You want a pickle back with that Bobby?” “You’re damn right I do!” He shoots the tequila, chases it with a little pickle juice, and slams a twenty on the bar. “Thanks Dottie, I’m about to win me a hundred dollars!” “See ya later Bobby!” she shouts, then under her breath, “Ya old pickle back…” Bobby and Cappy quickly walk down to the pier, bickering at each other the entire way. Bobby makes short work of grabbing his pole, kicking off his shoes, and walking out into the water. He’s in the surf for less than two minutes and he hooks into a decent sized sheepshead. It’s not the “monster fish” he claimed to have caught earlier, but enough to win him that hundred dollar bill. “Got ‘em!” Bobby exclaims. “What? Already? I’ll be damned,” Cappy says. As Bobby is walking back with his catch, he feels a sharp pain in his ankle. He shrieks in agony and retreats back to the beach with a quickness usually reserved for running from the cops. “What, did that little minnow bite you?” Cappy asks. “No man, something bit the crap out of my ankle… look!” “Damn Bobby! You’ve got about a silver dollar sized chunk of skin missing from your ankle.” “Hurts like hell. Now give me my C-note!” Cappy hands him the hundred dollar bill and says, “You better patch that up. It doesn’t look so good.” They part ways and Bobby returns to his shop and puts a bandage on his wound. He can’t believe how badly it hurts. He lays down on his bunk and slips into unconsciousness… To be continued… Read previous editions of Tybee Island Zombies @ http:// tybeebeachcomber.com/magazine TYBEE BEACHCOMBER | JUNE 2017 33 By Paul Cales CHAPTER 1 – The Pier Incident The Tybee Island Pier had stood since 1891. It had witnessed many good times, including sock hops, concerts from the Big Band era, and tons of alcohol … even throughout the prohibition years. Then, in the winter of 1967, it burned to the ground. The blame was placed on the shoulders of a couple of local boys who were playing with fire under the pier. This is the “official” story anyway. The real story is a bit more complicated and, quite frankly, disturbing… Bobby works at the pier, lives in the workshop at the pier, and hangs in the bars near the pier. He’s a hard worker, the kind of guy who busts his tail from 5am to 9pm and doesn’t complain a bit. He parties just as hard as he works and somehow, someway, he makes it to work every morning like clockwork. It is a Wednesday night in December of 1967. The weather is still pretty darn warm for this time of year and the fish are still biting, but the shrimp have disappeared. Bobby likes to fish under the pier. The sheepshead like to feed around the pylons just past the breakers, and this is where Bobby will catch his dinner. He takes his shoes off, grabs his fishing pole, and walks out into the water until he’s about knee deep. Even though the air temperature is in the 70’s, the water is pretty darn cold. It only takes Bobby about 20 minutes to catch two good sized sheepshead, and he walks back to his room on the pier. He dries off, puts his catch in the fridge, and walks up to Doc’s Bar to warm up on the inside before settling down for the night with his dinner. Doc’s is a local watering hole and a lot of fishermen hang out there. The fish tales that are told in this place would rival any bar in any fishing community. The tales are tall, wide, and usually get bigger the more libations are consumed. Bobby sits down at the corner of the bar and orders his drink. “Hey Dottie, would ya get me a tall boy and a tequila?” “You want a pickle back with that Bobby?” Dottie shouts back. “You’re damn right I do.” Just as Bobby orders his drink, Captain Bo Tiberious Bourden walks in. Everyone just calls him Cappy for short. “What do you say there Cappy?” asks Bobby. “Nothing much, just waiting for the damn shrimp to start running again. A man can’t eat unless he’s catchin’ and right now ain’t no one catchin’ nothin’,” Cappy replies. “That’s a load of bull. I just caught 2 HUGE sheepshead and only took me about ten minutes,” Bobby exaggerates. “You just gotta change up what you’re fishin’ for, when what you’re fishin’ for ain’t there no more.” Cappy hears the sarcasm in Bobby’s voice. “Listen here ya old pickle back, I’ve been fishing these waters for thirty some odd years now and December sucks for fishing. ALL FISHING! Just because your daddy was a fisherman, doesn’t make you the expert. Besides, this time of year there’s no way you caught two huge sheepshead in less than ten minutes.”
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