Lagoon Boss:
We will pull it off.
That’s what he
said as he mopped
his forehead
with a damp cloth.
Pull off what?
I wanted to know.
The Boss replied:
The disguise worn
by the Creature from
the Black Lagoon.
Then he sighed
and seemed rather
sad. I was just glad
he didn’t cry. It was
too soon for that.
He was very upset
and I bet the issue
with the eerie chill
waters of that geographical
feature (the Lagoon
where the Creature
lurks in the light
of the reflected full moon)
had made him sweat
more than the tissues
in his coat pocket
could cope with. Hence the
handkerchief pressed now
to his brow.
My next question was
inevitable: How
was he aware
that the Creature liked
to wear a disguise?
Because one night,
he said solemnly,
I turned over in bed
and saw that the face
of my wife had fallen off
in her sleep: and I knew
immediately that she
was really a monster.
Yes, she was a demon
from the deep, and not
Mrs Boss, as I’d always
believed. I can’t say
I was relieved to discover
this squamous fact. No,
it rather rattled my nerves.
Those were his very words
and I believed him.
The Creature from the Black Lagoon
had clearly decided
it preferred a bedroom
to the slimy bottom of a grubby lake.
There are no snakes
in ordinary houses, no crocodiles,
alligators or toxic frogs,
and even if the style
of the furniture is quite passé
on any given day
it’s still better to dwell in peace
than cavort with leeches
and torment one’s thoughts with
the strange dangers
that exist in a legendary Lagoon.
The Boss shrugged his shoulders
and made a statement
bolder than any uttered so far:
He was duty bound
to pull off the monster’s disguise
in public and shame
the soggy villain to such a degree
that it would agree
to depart the region forevermore.
But I had my doubts
about the wisdom of this
strategy. I said:
What if the Creature doesn’t feel
any shame? What if it
refuses to accept the blame? The
game will be lost.
The Boss glared at me
as if I was trying
to trick him or take the monster’s
side. He snarled
and lifted a gnarled fist and cried:
I am the chief of this town
and my frown
is feared by all and sundry.
If I crease the
skin above my eyes, don’t
be surprised at
the fuss it might create. I
am sure the bravest men
in the vicinity
will help me in my quest,
whether they walk about
bare chested
or prefer to wear a vest.
While waiting for infinity
to finally arrive
we are inclined
to be a little petty. I sighed
and volunteered
to join the band
of volunteers he proposed
to assemble. Not because
I wanted to help
the Boss unmask the beast,
but simply for
the lily-lagoony experience.
But I knew deep down
that love is mysterious
and that the Boss
was secretly pleased he had
married a monster
who liked to tease him
by pretending
to be his devoted wife.
Life is strange:
the Boss is stranger,
he thrives on danger,
and when he plays his nose
like a flute, the tune
he elicits will be sure
to attract her back to him.
His scaly underwater spouse
will leap into his arms
from the gloom of the Lagoon:
houseproud but dripping,
his awfully web-handed wife.
Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.
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