The surfer of Life

He waved to the wave and it waved back. A huge tower of water without confinement by metal. He aroused his metal and entered the liquid from which life had originated. The creator of Adam and his rib partner Eve. Where once had been water now desert. Eden rotted away because of sin. But he did not reflect back to this fact, he concentrated on his board now waxed with paraffin. Sex wax without the action of sex. He made his way to the crest and mounted it. There he was alone and ready for the ride of his life. A life built around conquering the big one. The wave that surmounted all others.

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He climbed onto his steed of wood and stood as the wave took him.  (Spot Waldo)

He rode the wave as he rode life. Stark and mean, and yet filled with the warmth of the conqueror. He rode under the crest and wore it as an honor to his courage.

Finally at shore and the safety of sand he turned back and smiled at the waves as they crashed in. He had won the day and he was victorious. No one saw him do it but he knew. And in the world of the surfer that was all that mattered.

He decided that one ride of this magnitude was enough and did not go back out. He was lucky for out there a shark was waiting. Waiting for a surfer with his zeal. A hungry shark, a great white, lying in wait for the surfer brave enough for these type of waves. The shark would wait a long time. The surfer went back to his job of tedium and repetition. A nine to five job at the desk of oak pushing a pen of ink against pulverized paper or clicking on the keys of a keyboard the boring memos of the clerk. But that day in his heart he knew he was above it all, he was the king of the waves and that would propel him through the day of ennui.

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