Sam Chardin Fiction Narration comedic

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Video Narration
33
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Description

Comedic fiction narration

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)

Accents

North American (General)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
on the hottest day of July trawling and dead calm waters near Key West, a tourist named James Mayberry reeled up a human arm. His wife flew to the bow of the boat and tossed her breakfast burritos. What are you waiting for, James? Mayberry barked at the mate. Get that thing off my line! The kid tugged and twisted, but the barb of the hook was embedded in bone. Finally, the captain came down from the bridge and used bent nose pliers to free the decomposing limb, which he placed on shaved ice in a duck box. James Mayberry said, For Christ sake, now where we supposed to put our fish? We'll figure that out when you actually catch one. It had been a tense outing aboard the misty mama. Four. James Mayberry had blown three good strikes because he was unable to absorb instruction. Dragging Bates in the ocean was different than jigging for wall eyes in the lake back home. Don't we need to call somebody? He asked the captain. We dio. The Harry left arm was bloated and sunburn to the hue of eggplants, a cusp of yellowed, humorous protruded at the point of separation below the shoulder. The flesh surrounding the wound looked ragged and bloodless. Who check it out, the mate said. What now? James Mayberry asked his freakin finger. Dude, the victim's hand was contracted into a fist, except for the middle digit, which was rigidly extended. How weird is that? He's flipping us off, the mate said the captain told him to rebate the anglers hook. Has this ever happened out here before? James Mayberry said. Tell the truth, Jesus, I'll never hear the end of it. Louisa wanted to ride the comp train today. She did not want to come fishing. Well, son, the captain said, We're in the memory making business. He climbed back to the bridge radio, the Coast Guard, and gave the GPS coordinates of the gruesome find. He was asked to remain in the area and look for other pieces of the body. But I got a charter, he said. You can stay at it, the Coast Guard dispatcher advised. Just keep your eyes open. After calming herself, Louisa Mayberry informed her husband that she wished to return to Key West right away. Come on, sugar. It's a beautiful morning. James Mayberry didn't want to go back to the dock with no fish to hang on the spikes, not after shelling out of Grand to hire the boat. The first day of our honeymoon. And this aren't you sketched out? James Mayberry peeked under the lid of the fish box. You watch CS I all the time. It's the same type of deal. His wife grimaced but did not turn away. She remarked that the limb didn't look Riel. Oh, it's rial, said James Mayberry, somewhat defensively. Just take a whiff. Snacking a fake arm would make for his go to story. A three alarm was pure gold, major high fives from all his peeps back in Madison. You gotta what? No way, bro. Louisa Mayberry's gaze was fixed on the limb. What could have happened? She asked. Tiger Shark, her husband said matter of factly. Is that a wedding bands on his hands? This is so sad. Fish on the make called Who's up? James Mayberry steered his bride's the fighting chair, and the mate fitted the rod into the gimbal. Although she was petite, Louisa Mayberry owned a strong upper body due to rigorous Bikram yoga classes that she took on Tuesday nights, refusing assistance she pumped in an £11 black fin tuna and whooped triumphantly as it flopped on the deck her husband had never seen or so excited. Here, take a picture. She cried to the mate and handed over her iPhone. Hold on, James, Mayberry said. Get both of us together. Louisa watched him hustled to get ready. Really, Jimmy, Really? Moments later, the captain glanced down from the bridge and saw the mate snapping photographs of the newlyweds post side by side at the transom. There, matching neon blue Oakley wrap arounds were propped on their matching cap visors, and their fair Wisconsin noses practically glowed with sunblock. Louisa Mayberry was gamely hoisting by the tail, her sleek, silvery tuna, while James Mayberry war the mates crusty gloves to grip his rancid catch, its middle finger aimed upward toward the puffy white clouds. The captain dragged on a cigarette and turned back to the wheel. Another ******* day in paradise, he said,