Bumble and the Coffee Pot Lighthouse

Medium: Ink and graphite on Arches paper, mounted to birch panel, varnished

Dimensions: 9" x 12"

Long Island, New York

The Story:
Most people haven't really given too much thought to where the coffee pot lighthouse got its name. The lighthouse, which is situated between Orient Point and Plum Island in a deep and narrow gap called Plum Gut, is actually named the Orient Point Light. If they did wonder where the name came from, most came to the conclusion that it must be because it looks somewhat like a coffee pot in its small rotund shape. Here's what actually happened, though many don't know the tale.
Two Fish, an old fisherman from the town, resided close to the lighthouse back in the mid 1950s. How he came to bear the nickname “Two Fish” is a story for another time, something about how he always came back with only two fish every day he went fishing. Each morning, he insisted on having his coffee on a dock with a view of the funny little lighthouse. He was known in the town for spinning tall tales, always claiming to see funny happenings near Plum Gut, blaming it on the odd experiments conducted on Plum Island. Most people paid him no mind as he spun his quirky tales in the local bar every night, though a few kids would recite Two Fish’s stories to one another, enjoying their odd and creepy essence. The problem for Two Fish was that this time he was telling the truth.
One morning as Two Fish was sitting at his usual spot drinking coffee, it happened. He was staring at the lighthouse, which had a real glow in the rolling fog, when he suddenly saw a creature appear out of the mist and perch atop the lighthouse. He locked eyes with it, and started to yell. He threw his hand up to cover his face, and the oddest thing happened: the thing mimicked him. It raised its arm in response, mirroring his frantic movement. He turned around to see if there was anyone else seeing this (of course, there was not), and by the time he turned back to face it, it was gone.
He went back the next day, but this time he did not see the creature. But then, a few mornings later, it was back. Again on a foggy day, it rose out of the mist and perched atop the lighthouse. This time, almost too stunned to do anything but start screaming again, he remembered how it mimicked him, and he raised both of his arms. The creature raised two of its tentacles in response. As if that wasn’t enough, Two Fish also noticed that this time the creature had brought a prop, a coffee cup. Had it found the cup at the bottom of the sea floor and thought it amusing to copy him to this extent? Two Fish did not know. And just like that, as he lowered his head to sip his coffee, the creature vanished.
He told people in town, yet no one believed the tale due to its unreliable source. He saw the creature often now, when the fog was just right. He began talking to the creature, though that was the one act it never mimicked back. “Yeah, I told them all about you and they don't even believe me… you and your cup and that coffee pot looking lighthouse you perch on,” Two Fish rambled to the creature, and later to the townsfolk in the bar. And though no one did believe his tale, people did start to call the Orient Point Lighthouse the coffee pot light – that part stuck. With time, Two Fish no longer was around to spin his tall tales, and he, along with his stories, were forgotten by most. But his coining of the nickname for that little round light lives on.