17 JUN 1977
Latitude 00˚ 00’ N
Longitude 039˚ 00’ W
Hot. Frikkin' Hot.
|The captain swore that Oprah would never be allowed aboard ever again.|
Remember, it's not just a job, it's being....
forced to the flight deck with dozens of likewise miserable "pollywogs," hosed down by insanely smiling shellbacks, whipped with firehoses by gay Irish pirates, and accosted by MS1 Angelo Abunzallah.....
“Well, hello there, slimy,” he sneered. He grabbed the back of my pants (which was actually the “front”). He pulled an egg from a bag he carried around his waist and shoved it down the back. As it nestled between my cheeks, he gave my behind a smack.
I grimaced as pieces of broken eggshell oozed down my legs.
“See you later, boddy,” he cackled and disappeared.
“Hear ye! Hear ye! King Neptune’s court is now in session!
All ‘wogs rise for his
|King Neptune's Court.|
I staggered to my feet, eggshell pausing to say “howdy” to a part of my anatomy which was unfamiliar with eggs. I looked up to see who I thought was the ship’s chaplain decked out in a shirt covered with tin foil. In his left hand he held a wooden trident covered in yellow aircraft paint. Atop his hair (in reality a mop head-I hope it was clean) was an aluminum pie tin fashioned to look like a crown.
|"You better believe I'm pissed. |
I smell like fish.
And my junk is buried in cement."
MS1, my eggshell “boddy,” stepped forward.
“Your majestee, this slime work in S-Pife’s scollery deevizhion. He break too many deeshes.”
For some reason, “King Neptune” was able to understand him. He scratched his black shoe polish coated chin and glared at me. Finally, he said, “I find you guilty of the high crime of breaking dishes in this ship’s S-5 Division! For your punishment, I sentence you to visit the Royal Baby and to spend one minute in Davy Jones’ Locker. Bailiff, take him away! Next!”
|"There, there, Mummy wasn't |
going to let that barmy Yank
sailor anywhere near her precious."
Oops, wrong Royal Baby.
He looked down and laughed a huge laugh. Never saying a
word, he laughed again and grabbed my head. With a grunt, he rammed my face into
his stomach. Given no warning, I
struggled to breathe. And prevent
my head from slipping into his cavernous navel.
|Yeah. That's more like it. |
No way it could have been worse.