quote:
Originally posted by 45 Cal:
"Tokyo bay was a bitch to navigate in 1960."

"That's a great opening line for a novel." (Para)

"No one knew this better than Captain Earl "Squinty" Millis, and as he struggled mightily to keep his craft off the rocks, he hoped the sweat wouldn't run down into his good eye."

This message has been edited. Last edited by: BlackAgnes,

After the disaster two years ago with the iron hauler, Millis knew another would not be tolerated. But that hadnt been his fault, and after a long drawn out investigation he was cleared, damn witch hunt aside. Still, he was one of the best, and if anyone could keep his new ship off the reefs and submerged obstacles it was him.

The low clouds had been racing across the full moon all evening as the ship approached the harbor entrance. Just as Millis gave the order to reduce to one third throttle the rain started and the moon went dark.

Especially with a hangover so bad that it made my skin crawl. And the cause of it all, Roxanne, was sitting right next to me with a pistol barrel at the back of my head.

Little did I know she had an ulterior motive, keeping those drinks coming my way in the smoky confines of The Blue Fin. She'd planned this heist perfectly.
(I guess I'm continuing the post before me)

She leaned in close to Millis. "Isoide iru," she said.

"I know we're in a hurry, Roxanne, or whatever your real name is," Millis responded with sudden irritation. "You want us to get there in one piece or not? Especially with a cargo like that."

Just then, a shot. And another. And another. The last thing I remember is the OOD asking where I got the alpaca.

The alpaca tattoo, that is. It adorned the inside of my right bicep, just above a hole where they were trying to stop the bleeding.

It was a dark and stormy night, and the gloom interfered with the activities of the EMTs trying to treat the wound. They persevered, though, and eventually it was bound up properly. The removed bullet seemed too small to have caused such pain.

Unfortunately, the EMT crew had been forced to cut Millis' bloodstained tutu off to treat the wounds, vexing him mightily, and he was taking out his ire on his First Mate. Me.

Just then Millis wondered who was driving the boat.

He hadn't even seen my over by the chart table earlier. But, hey who ever sees the Gunner's Mate Chief who is filling in for one of his guys on watch. And now I'm filling in for the helmsman...FML...three years to retirement and this shitstorm blows up...

Even Godzilla had problems walking there, and he had big feet!

Looking back, the ship was safer than her crew from the kabuki underway.

Suddenly, and without warning, Captain Millis awoke-it had all been a dream--Roxanne, the alpaca, the gun, and the tutu.

What was real, however, were the jagged rocks lining the approach to the pier,and the cold, dark fluid beneath the keel, which Millis had always referred to as "water". Most people did.

Determined not to let the danger overcome him, he withdrew a long Dominican cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, and lit it. This was a technique employed by many men facing insurmountable challenges, a cheap affectation which offered no real solution to his dilemma.

I opened the door to the bridge and there she stood with a pair of '45s. And she had a gun, too.

The .45 she had in her hand looked fairly small, but her hands were large and her knuckles were hairy.

She ripped the Dominican cigar out of my mouth with her gaurgantuan mitts, and slowly took a drag. I then noticed her Adam's apple was the size of, well an apple. She took a deep inhale, and spoke lowly, almost in a hushed whisper, as she exhaled the smoke slowly.

She said something no man wants to hear, especially one who has been on a boat for the last 9 months.

I'm going to make you squeal like a pig......

There's only one problem. Have you ever heard the story of one who is The Night?