The Adventures of Lonesome Lui

Jan 9, 2012 by Lonesome Lui

I was walking the beach over at Las Conchas looking for my dog when I ran into Louise.
Her opening line was, “Lui, I guess you know where my husband is again?”
“Fishing?”
“Yes, fishing. I’m about tenth on his list of priorities.”
I was trying not to stare at the way she was packed into her shorts and burning purple sweater. She gave me a critical going over, “Lui, you look like something the tide washed in.”
I mentioned that Flea Bag and I were out late last night. (I could almost hear that 3am female voice welcoming me home. “Lui, you said you’d be home by seven.”)
“How about this dog,” Louise snaps? I know where I stand there.”
Just looking at this woman always delights me even when she’s angry. “Please Louise”, I soothe, “How can you say that?”
“Easy”, she retorts. “Its taken years for me to undo some of the spoiling he got from his mother.”
She wayed a piece of driftwood she was carrying at me. “Then there’s all the bad habits he picks up from you and his buddies, not to mention his machismo!”
“Me?”
“Yes, you”.
“I’ll come over and keep you company.”
This remark got a smile, but no answer.
On the short drive from Las Conchas to the Old Town I was thinking creatively. People have warned me this will get me in trouble.
I had just driven past the whale skeleton at CEDO when an idea flashed into my fertile brain. There are lonely hearts clubs all over the world. Rocky Point has a singles group that meet once a month.
Why not offer a RENT A HUSBAND for fishing, football, and hunting, widows? This thing could take off. I could sell franchises all over the world. I’d have my own web page.
Judging the high moral character of this area my rentals must transcend any physical desire. Think of all guys out there that would love to spend some time bringing joy to a lonesome wife. Who wants to break in a new pair of shoes – “Okay Lui”, you ask, “where are you going with that analogy?”
I’ll try another. How about wine. Who wants to sip a new wine when they can have a vintage.
What I’m trying to say is my client would be a woman who has gone through the travail, and burden of marriage. Very much in Lui’s favor she would not be expecting too much from the rental guy.
Think of all the men that lie to their prospective brides that they love to dance. Okay, so I register a bunch of guys that love to dance.
Then you have the husbands that really doesn’t appreciate their in-laws. Before those wedding bells, and rice they were absolutely charming at family gatherings. Lui brings in a rental guy that is not involved in family matters, or preconceived prejudices.
I can just imagine Louise hearing through the years from husband Richard, (He gives her that: IF-I-ONLY-KNEW-LOO).
“Sorry sweetie, we’ve been planning this trip for months. I can’ let the guys down.”
So she rents a brand NEW-OUT-OF-THE-BOX-GUY from Lui. I must emphasize this is to be strictly platonic. It doesn’t matter now that her mother kept saying that she could have married much better.
In Rocky Point the sports widow would be a challenge. A guy like that might have to be imported.
(Back to Louise) What had torched her anger was her husband Richard had takes his boat, and buddies down to Cabo San Lucas. This was after he had been gone three days in a row fishing between Rocky Point to San Felipe.
Word was around town that some Long Liners had taken blues topping 2,000 pounds. His parting words to Louise was, “I’ll be back when you see me.”
By the end of our conversation she was not too far from tears, “What’s a blue?” she wanted to know.
“Marlin”, I answer reverently. “Can go pretty big.” Let me tell you about the one I hooked between Rocky Point and San Felipe.”
“NO Lui, — Please!”
On my way back when I got to the Caborca highway I couldn’t make up my mind if I should turn right and go buy some fresh $2.00 dozen oysters, or head directly to Old Town. There are some hard decisions to be made here in Peñasco.
Driving around Rocky Point doenst require much attention: little traffic, courteous drivers. I could almost hear my first wife yelling at me, “Lui, watch the road. Quit your day-dreaming.”
As I drove, my mind wandered back to fishing and one unforgettable day.
I was trolling for El Dorado when I got a blind strike. It felt like I had snagged a submarine. My rod flew out of my hand. With the speed of a jaguar I sprang. I grabbed the butt end of the rod, and hauled it back in to the boat. My quick thumb immediately found the drag and released it.
When the fish surfaced all I could think of was Moby Dick.
This monster took off shearing the water like one of those jet skis, only much faster. I’d say a hundred, but my guide has it at sixty. I braced the rod between my legs and tried to get back some line. This was a painful mistake, beside my arms were stretched like past dough.
In seconds my reel was emptied. Evidently pleased, the fish headed back for our boat in a serious of leaps, the last just missed out port side.
My musing was interrupted by a scream. I’d driven all the way back to Old Town on what you might call automatic pilot. (Some might be reminded of Walter Middy) Federico who hustles prawns was shaking his fist at me. He works that area where you make the left turn that puts you on the Malecon.
Both the upper and lower balconies on Lily’s were packed with tourists. I was hoping to run my franchise idea by someone. Angel was in his usual spot with his beautiful silver jewelry shining in the sun. Tiffany’s window never looked any better.
Angel has that rare gift of reverence to what he displays. The silver bracelet he sold me (at his cost) I had no idea I needed. It has brought me all the luck that was promised. I used to help him close a sale until one of Lily’s waiters tackled what had become a delicate situation. “Lui”, he confided, “Angel puts a tremendous vales on your friendship, but he prefers to work alone”.
I checked in at the kitchen to see if they’d seen my dog. No one had seen him since yesterday. My next stop was Puesta del Sol. Manuel told me some people were chasing him just north of the restaurant.
The story was a little boy was running a remote controlled toy truck on some packed sand, and tooling it in circles around my poor dog. When barking wouldn’t scare it, Flea Bag picked it up and ran off with it.
I have the toy now, but it’s not much good without the control. It can be picked up at the Rocky Point Times new, spacious offices.

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