4/1/11 – Cap’t Report; Crew’s doing as well as can be expected, though we caught some heavy swells a few minutes ago.
We were doing well when we first set sail a couple evenings ago. Oh yeah, seas were a bit rough, but they – and that maddening crew of lunatics settled down for the voyage. I think they all got drunk on that rum first mate, JefferyW gave ’em. He’s been puttin’ sumthin’ in it, I swear. I dunno, certainly knocked me and the crew for the group! Ol’ Jeff; he must have been drinkin’ all his life, because it didn’t seem to affect him a bit; or else he was drunk when he got here, so no one can tell the difference (you know, hire a man with red eyes, you assume after awhile those red eyes are normal, and not the result of drinkin’). Not that Jeff has red eyes; brown if I recall. Good lookin’ kid; not an ol’ scoundral like me! Good enough; I’ll get the First Sgt, Master at Arms to cut his nuts off and string ’em from the sails to catch wind if he misbehaves. Not that I think he’s gonna. Like I said: he seems to be a pretty good kid, and I’m comfy leaving him at the rudder.
We had a good party; lots of dancing around: you know how loonies and old sailors get when you get a few rounds in ’em. Drunk as skunks, hands over each other’s shoulders, singing their song, howling at the moon on a night dark as river, nuthin’ but the stars ashinin’. Oh well, you know the drill. Grand party, everyone wakes up drunk, too tired to trim the sails and swab that durned deck. They’d poop on it if it was up to them. Fortunately, our old commander is still onboard to help keep some order; otherwise it would be chaos around here.
However – except for that storm we had – a quick shower, a lot of boat rockin’ – it appears to be over for the moment, though first mate informs me to expect some more rocky weather as we go along.
Oh, yeah, we spotted a Sea Monster today; it appears to be one of the Mom species: huge ugly raving beast, totally friggin’ insane. If I’d of had my harpoon, we’d be eatin’ whale tonight instead of cold fried catfish caught with a spoon. And I don’t LIKE fish. Oh well, life’s tough, what’s an old seadog to do, eh? Eat my parrot? Bones? Ya gotta be kiddin’ me. But can’t be much worse than cat, I s’pose – ya spend all day pickin’ hair out chur’ teeth. But that’s what the left over whiskers are for; toothpicks.
Well, ya’ll have fun out there, Captain on Deck; we gotta go. We’re just gonna take a look around, see what we see, see if we see that ol’ mom monster, see if we can’t deal with her; that or our cargo; them precious kids. (smilin’). Gotta love them lit’ bastards.. Ya know. Kids.
Your friend, Elvis. >wink!<