Technically speaking, Graham was not a smart man. His formal education had never exceeded past the minimum amount required by the government and he was perfectly content with his basic education for the Scot made up for it with practical experience. Graham had often preached to his children, and his wife when he felt brave enough, that there was only so much one could learn from books and only so much you can learn from life and urged them individually to pursue what they thought would be best for them. So, when Graham arrived on Petra Exterior, an alien planet, he relied on his wit and instincts to survive rather than his book smarts.

He was a fisherman through and through; the basics of fishery had been ingrained into him since birth and Graham was quick to analyze the solar and lunar cycle of the planet to optimize his trade. Thanks to the significantly longer days and nights, the hunter was restricted to fishing once every three days when the water conditions were just right. Late in the evening when the waters cooled enough to bring the fish out of their sluggish state and early in the morning when it became warm enough to ramp up their metabolisms, Graham had to be careful. Until his supplies arrived for him to establish a fishery that could survive the extreme conditions, he could only fish enough to last him three days and hope he could trade the rest for supplies - hope because apparently people were squeamish when the fish did not look like the typical Flounder.

Sol had risen over the horizon just over an hour ago and was beginning to heat the planet’s exterior. A warm breeze gently blew over the Exurbian side of the river causing the tall grass to sway rhythmically back and forth as if dancing to the rough singing voice that was carried by the wind. “When I was a laddie in a fishin’ town, me ol’ man said to me,” The Scotsman sang loudly and without a care as he squatted behind a boulder on the Nemus side of the river tightening a vine that led into the river and to the squirming basket that contained his late night haul. “Ye can spend yer life, yer jolly good life just sailin’ on the sea! Ye can search th’warld for bonnie girls till yer eyes are weak and dim but don’t go searchin’ for a mermaid, son, if ye don’t know how to swim!” Once he was confident that the vine would not loosen and cause him to lose a night’s worth of work, Graham picked up his three pronged spear made out branches and vine and stood.

Graham let out a long and relaxed sigh as he took a moment to look around at his surroundings. He breathed in the fresh and earthy breeze and gazed upon the vast fields of grass across the river and the settlement just beyond it and allowed hope to spring in his chest. Perhaps today would be the day that his family arrived but he would not travel to the Drop Zone until later in the afternoon after conditions were no longer right for fishing. Refocusing back to the task at hand, the fisherman waded back into the water and squinted into its depths as he continued to sing idly to himself. “’Cause ‘er hair was green as seaweed. ‘er skin was blue and pale. ‘Er face, it was a work of art. I loved that lassie with all mah heart.” His voice slowly began to die as his gaze took on a predatory look and raised the spear in the ready. “But I only liked th’upper part, I didnae like th’tail.” He finished the stanza before he launched the spear into the water.

The Mermaid - Great Big Sea