Mermaids, if truth be told, greatly prefer rock dollars over sand dollars. I can’t emphasize it enough, rock dollars are really all they will take. I may be wrong about a very many things, but of this, I fear you just must absolutely trust me. In fact, just today, I paid one rock dollar, Bahamian, to a mermaid who was kind enough to help me with a small project.
Now just imagine if I had given her a sand dollar? Have you ever tried to swim with a sand dollar in your hand? It’s quite difficult, and enormously discouraging to watch as the sand dollar, crumbled and broken floats away from you. But with a rock dollar, well, you can swim freely with it in your hand, as a mermaid is wont to do, because typically mermaids don’t have pockets.
I say typically because while I am completely personally unaware of any mermaid having a pocket, it never pays to be declarative when one is not one hundred and ten percent absolutely positive and certain. For if I say ‘mermaids never have pockets’ well, then, I will get a letter from an indignant mermaid going on and on about her pockets. Or worse yet, discover that there is the Society of Mermaids With Pockets and their leader will contact me and not in a nice way whatsoever.
Dear Sir: the letter will start and then go on and on about my ignorance of mermaid pockets and demand an apology, so I say typically.
Typically, your average mermaid does not have pockets. Average, that’s probably not the word I should use either – I fear another letter is already being written.
Dear Sir: Have you ever actually seen a mermaid? For if you have kind Sir, you would know that there is nothing average about them whatsoever.
I would have to stand corrected because the writer would have every right to be indignant with me for calling even the homeliest mermaid average.
As any sailor worth his salt will stand tall and tell you clearly that your far from average mermaid is a beautiful joyous sensual creature indeed, typically having long wondrous hair turned blonde by the sun and sea, skin kissed by the sun and then when they swim in the sea, the blue water, the blonde hair, my, no wonder sailors went crazy about them for they are beauties indeed.
Thinking of mermaids a bit more, it occurs to me that the funniest part about paying a mermaid a rock dollar, Bahamian, is that what does a mermaid need to buy really? They have the sea and the sun, and they eat what they wish and swim where they may. No need for them to worry about a roof over their head, or dinner on the table. They have the sea.
Despite their clear lack of need, I paid a mermaid a rock dollar today, one smooth rock dollar, and as I write this it occurs to me, I know what they do with their rock dollars — what they must do as, again, typically they don’t have pockets, so they must swim far out on the light blue water where they can see down forty fifty sixty feet and then they pause and gently, they let their rock dollars go.
And they watch, watch as their rock dollar floats down and away. Silently. The moment of floating above and letting go of their dollar is more than worth whatever task or mission they needed to complete in order to obtain said dollar in the first place, for it is a moment of pure simplicity and mutual freedom.
The rock dollar floats this way and that way, back and forth and skims and flips ever farther down but as the water is so clear, it is never out of sight. It floats down and down and then lands softly on the sand floor.
I suppose that there may very well be a pile of rock dollars out there somewhere, out there where the mermaids swim. The United Bank of Mermaid Rock Dollars, address, somewhere in the sea, deposits made daily, withdrawals, hardly ever.
I saw hardly because one never really knows does one?