LOPS SHIG
It has been a busy few days.Discovered faithful manservant on the Larboard coaming this morning.Immediately hid Jam.
Following a friendly chat,just to catch up,it appears I am under pursuit by some strange suitor.Said suitor shouldnt shed shooter,save self safely.
Also following friendly chat just to catch up,I removed my leather gloves,turned off the halogen lamp,and removed Lamberts restraints and blindfold.Felt the gloves were a wasted gesture really.
During forenoon relaxation period where I wrestled a friendly finned predator to death whilst inspecting my hull for algae,I noiticed a large build up of barnacles vicinity keel.As any self respecting mariner knows,barnacles can have a deterious effect upon a hull.Also discovered letter from Algae that I had temporarily forgotten,telling me that he wouldnt be able to make the trip due to unforseen cold weather.
I mused long about the barnies over a luncheon of fin soup and swim bladder,and concluded that if indeed I were being pursued with relent,then I ought really to personally see to it that they were disenfranchised of their host home,namely,my bottom.
I therefore resigned myself to the less than pleasant task of ordering Lambert to take up the ships scrubber,strip off and give her a good seeing to.He seemed a little reluctant to bare his all before the mast,and with my customary adroitenity,I allowed him to borrow Nancys Bikini to cover his gentlemen parts,and with a jolly roger around the waist,he quite looked the piratic fanatic entirely at ease with the forthcoming murder,mayhem and eviction of the soon to be homeless barnacles.Of course he wanted to insist on being allowed to wear his speedos,but that notion was summarily dismissed and besides,ships dog had already eaten,and subsequently passed them.
Night had fallen before I had cajoled Lambert to take to the deck in readiness for his mission,and two things happened simultaneously right at this moment.I cannot remember both things,but shall relate the one I do recall.
We both did hear an almighty swooshing sound from without the night sky,at which Lambert uttered an entirely unseemly and somewhat girlish scream,just about having time to raise his hands to his mouth and flap them in a really annoying manner before a figure borne on a parachute whipped him away into our spindrift yelling all the while "I gotter an whatnots!" There was a splash shortly afterwards as Lambert,abductor and parachute the three,landed in the water.Knowing there was now some emergency which would require extreme quick thinking,not to mention urgent alacrity,I dove below decks and quickly re hid the Jam,snatching up my coffee as I did so,forward rolled neatly to the port daybed,and took up a relaxed position of nonchalance from which I could ponder events at my leisure.
Perhaps ten minutes elapsed thus,maybe more,I cannot be sure because during this time a need overcame me to whip off a quick poem,but as the aforementioned period of time expired,there was a loud thump above decks,and the unmistakable sound of parachute silk wafting down ever so slowly,catching here and there on stays,halyards and ships rails,snagging a little on one buckeye bracket,and I am almost certain,getting caught within the Yarmouth gooseneck.Unmistakable.
A sudden and inexplicable fear came over me at this point,but upon checking,I was relieved to note that I had indeed stirred the sugar the requisite 34 times before beginning my coffee,for there was absolutely no residue visible at all in the dregs of ships coffee mug.
I emerged from the cockpit and faced for'ad,spying a gently billowing parachute enshrouding a man with one leg either side of my mast,and a look of perplexity across his craggy features.I enquired upon his business,relating to him that I hadn't been expecting visitors at this hour,and was informed that he himself had not really been expecting anything himself,save that he expected a great deal of pain to register imminently due to his unfortunate choice of checking his rapid descent by judiscious use of my mast.
Later,over a mug of steaming shark intestine,and him having recovered sufficient to belay his constant whining about a pain he thought he was experiencing vicinity his man parts,he slowly,almost sleepily told me,in many a gap between yawns,that he was part of a crack team of exfiltration experts,consisting largely,if not exclusively of he and his now lost cousin.It became clear that his part in this daring mission was to arrange a rescue vessel so that the exfil team could make a smart and sucessful getaway.However,due to other pressing non events in his life,he had entirely forgotten to make any such arrangement.This did not seem to trouble him in the least.During one awkward moment,where he was neither yawning,nor thinking about yawning,I enquired of his name,telling him that the shigs lop had to be kept up to date.He said he thought it might have been Strange Lethargic,but he wasnt too sure.I replied that that would be eminently fitting and he said maybe.
Two hours and forty one sentances later,he was clipped to a safety rope,scrubber in hand,and with a remnant of Lamberts Jolly Roger pushed into his shorts for good luck,or memories,or both,I lowered him over the wall with the mission previously interrupted once more back in hand.
One hour later,I unclipped the poorly named safety rope,sure in the knowledge that all barnacles were now liberated specimens of ex sea life,and resumed my watch upon my Jam,listening to the slow,careless and rather less than urgent splashings of a drowning man.