Sylvia Benedict was discovered crying inside of the Sea Lion Beach Geezer World Van by local lifeguard, Brad Stokely, as he was headed home. “I found the woman sitting inside the van, crying over Mr. Noway Sr. The motor was still running. The van’s motor, not the old fart’s. Noway had suffered a heart attack.”
Sylvia , the spouse of beloved Bolsa Chico Surf Patrol Chief, Bernie Benedict, confessed to the ambulance staff concerning the death of her eighty-eight-year-old lover:
“We’d just had a friendly dinner, celebrating Wayne’s new Thriller Driller Penile Implant. He suggested that we to go out and replace all of the steel fasteners on the Long Beach bridge with his new… Oh, poopsieeeeeeeee!” (Crying.) “Wayne seemed fine! He really did. Then, after his little nap time, he wouldn’t respond.”
“That’s quite enough, Mrs. Benedict,” said the nauseous ambulance driver.
The truth was el vomitosio. Somehow, the video of her story ended up on the local news.
Wayne Noway III’s (the grandkid) surfer buddies said that the sixteen-year-old surfer had been “blowing major chunkage,” “praying to the porcelain” and “hurling with a mighty chunder” after reading about what his grandpa and his ex-teacher had been doing. Los barfos, mesdames e messieurs.
My Sylvia! Bernie thought. And…and Wayne’s grandpa?! Noooooooooo!
He had to get out and get some fresh air, now.
After the broadcast, it seemed that the entire town of Bolsa Chico wanted to line the pier and join local hero Bernie, in his major heave fest. It was if they’d all been hit with the dreaded Nosoi flu.
For days afterward, Bernie felt as though he were wearing a big red ‘D’—for Dumbass — on his forehead. Time had come for him to leave his longtime friends, his beloved job and his hometown of Balsa Chico.
Donette’s Cafe, formerly Rosie’s, was built upon the end of the Bolsa Chico Pier, in Orange County, California, in 1956. Recently, it had been purchased by a dark, sultry, dirty-talking shark goddess, Dauna Robinson, who bought the cafe to promote her native Fijian coffee products: the high-octane Getthefuckouttamyway and Outtamywayasshole coffees, grown on her private island of Kupaio. Dauna was the one and only waitress at Donette’s.
Bernie rarely drank the coffee, but loved the food. It was the following Sunday, Bernie’s birthday, when he ordered his final breakfast at Donette’s.
The TV was on and…
“Oh, Fuck! No! Not……. on…….. my………goddamned birthday!” Bernie said. The other customers were wondering if the patrolman had caught Tourette’s from Dauna.
Nope. The news was on CNN — and Bernie was pissed. His tragic ‘train wreck’ had gone both bacterial and viral. Millions, perhaps gazillions, were following Bernie’s sad story.