Part 3

This is a history lesson, told in three parts, contrived in the truest sense of fabricated historical recording. In Part 1, we learned about the Intolera Lactosians — a tribe with a diet of wild game and maple syrup, and inventers of the out-house. In Part 2, we learned about the Dairias Homogenus — a vegetarian clan of harvesters, imbibers, and master party planners.

The Pisceseans

Unlike the Intolera Lactosians, who occupied the eastern shore of the river, and the Dairias Homogenus, who settled the western lands, the Pisceseans controlled no land mass at all.

They were an aquatic band who established a floating village of inter-connected rafts, anchored around a miniscule mid-stream island. The river offered power, food and prime real estate values.

As the Piscesean population grew, more rafts were added to the flotilla. The ancient historian Flavor Flavious reported that, at the peak of the Piscesean culture, the floating population swelled to “a boatload of folks.”

The flotilla consisted of 12 huge main barges, each encircled and connected by thick ropes to a half dozen not-quite-so-huge-but-still-pretty-big barges. These smaller barges were also ringed by four summer-camp sized, four barrel, swimming float platforms.

The 12 larger barges were tied off like wheel spokes to a very small central island that disappeared during the wet season or during light fog. In the center of the island stood a lighthouse.

Each of the 12 main barges were home to a group of people that followed a leader known as the “Big Deal,” and lived by the Big Deal’s rules. Each of the half dozen smaller barges also had its own leader, called the “Kindabig Deal,” who set his (or her) own rules.

Likewise, each of the swimming platforms had a boss, usually referred to as the “Roil Payne,” who got to decide how his (or her) fiefdom would be run.

The Roil Payne was beholden to the Kindabig Deal, the Kindabig Deal was beholden to the Big Deal.

The 12 Big Deals met every year on the small central island to brag about how good the fishing was in their part of the river.

It was during one of these annual meetings that Piscesean culture began to change.

“How’s the fishing at your end of the flotilla?” asked a concerned member of the Big Deal elite rulers.

“ Crappie,” replied the Big Deal of Huge Barge #7. “The Big Deal of Huge Barge #11 is catching all the upstream trout. My people are getting hungry.” In a hush and under his breath, he cautioned, “My people are getting grouchy.”

“I’ve got the same problem on Huge Barge #4,” complained the first Big Deal. “People are getting grumpy on Small Barge #4.6 because of the cost of barge space. Barges don’t grow on trees, y’know. And, the folks on Swim Platform #4.2.3…well…their Roil Payne is my wife’s second cousin. He’s always seasick, so those folks are never happy.  We need a solution to all this grumbling.”

The 12 Big Deals stood around the lighthouse and voiced their concerns.

Someone carped about Big Deal #11’s trout fishing selfishness.

Several more Big Deals raised a ruckus over Huge Barge #12’s Big Deal, the most upstream barge in the flotilla, insistence on emptying the heads whenever he got the urge.

All of the Big Deals had the general lament that “something smells fishy.”

Out of all the whining and complaining came an idea, which gained momentum towards forming a plan, which then collided with reality, and became a weak compromise.

The 12 Big Deals would select someone to act as their quasi-leader, to be known as the “Popeye.”

The Popeye would live on the island in the lighthouse. Should any of their subjects complain about anything more than three times, the official response would be, “I’d like to help, but I can’t do anything about it. The Popeye makes the rules, I have to follow them. I blame it on the lighthouse. Maybe next time we’ll get a better Popeye and he’ll fix things.”

As long as the people have someone to blame, things will be alright.

In exchange for four years of being the most complained about person in all of Piscesea, the Popeye would get to retire to anywhere they wanted (even on dry land), write a best-selling book, give speeches at college graduations, and live a pretty good life.

If they lasted eight years, they get to give 20 minute speeches to bankers for a half a million bucks a pop.

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.