Laguna de Hule & Río Cuarto

This story begins in Scotland. It was a simpler time, without so much fuss. I never imagined I would find myself in the situation I am currently in. But if there’s one thing that decades have taught me, it’s that life is unpredictable.

I was just a child, taking my first steps in the Jurassic era. Those were glorious times. I swam easily in cold waters filled with creatures I never saw again. I danced to the rhythm of underwater currents and had the luxury of walking on land when nightfall called for it.

Then came my teenage years: the Late Cretaceous period. My teeth sharpened, my neck elongated, I grew fins, and I was the dandy of the sauropterygians. I caused a sensation at all the social events. I always considered myself very “soFISHticated.”

The problem started when the damn Homo sapiens entered the scene. They were so conceited, acting like the land they roamed belonged to them. Of course, I adhere to the Libertarian philosophy: each to their own. You go your way and I swim mine. But no! That’s not how the rooster wanted to sing.

It was a summer morning. The sun was scorching at mid-morning. Mosquitoes buzzed in my head because that morning I had woken up late due to a series of bad decisions I made the night before. Damn existential anxiety. I wasn’t the same as before. I was balding and getting a belly.

I ask you to put yourself in my fins.

It turned out that I stumbled upon a family of Homo sapiens swimming at the edge of the lagoon without noticing my presence. I wasn’t in the mood to look for my classic breakfast of 100 kilos of mackerel.

I just approached and ate the children and the wife. At the time, I didn’t think much more about it. I regretted not eating the father, but he ran away and I don’t venture too far on land anymore. Especially not with rubber.

The problem was that the Homo sapiens returned with their sharp weapons and bad intentions, like a school of swordfish. I never thought it would be that bad. They bothered me for thousands of years. I couldn’t be the same anymore.

It was around the 1800s when I decided to retire instead. I moved to a small and humble lagoon. The damn Homo sapiens hardly ever reach there. I sleep peacefully in the depths of its calm waters, enveloped by the warmth of the volcanic subsurface. But, from time to time, when I hear the fluttering of a Sapiens on the surface, I peek out, teeth first, to “greet” them.

• Memories of Ernesto “Nessie” O’Houlihan