Paul J Penton – Songwriter

Coconut- Daily Object Writing- Dec 31st

It’s a long way from a wide apron of superfine sand that tickles toes on mid morning south pacific beaches to the stand on a side show, but there they were, begging to be hit and split. Could it be simpler? One dollar gets you five shots, the balls we throw are the size of a golf ball and heavy, surely, this will split those hairy coconut faces with a single blow. I weigh up the missile in my hand – even heavier than a golf ball I think. I wind back my arm and sling shot the first ball, my muscles stretching and shoulder aching just a little on release. The ball flies into empty space and grazes the side of the oblong challenge. I have no inkling that later in life I will become fond of Thai curries – with that kicking spice of galang galang riding on a wave of coconut milk aiming for the back of my throat in the same way I’m aiming for these fat husks.

I release another ball, aim is better this time and the coconut gives a hollow thwack, but no split or even hint of a bruise-. I lick my lips and taste strawberry milk from the Big M dispensary along the alley. Toes dig deep into my shoes with determination to really whack this sucker this time. I aim for the same one as last time, thinking I might have made some sort of dent or structural weakness- though at eleven years of age I have no clue what a structural weakness might be, probably the same as getting your arm punched after you’ve had injections. My arm ratchets back then swings and fires again I hit it fair and square, it doesn’t budge nor crack nor anything – I wonder why it didn’t fall, is it attached in some way? Is it more side show trickery? Have they reinforced it with glue? Funny thing was, whenever the circus or the sideshows came to town, you could almost bet that the newsagent would get robbed – why them I don’t know, I’m surprised the cops didn’t stake the place.