Moving On

Yeah

i'll get back to the story of the party.  now is time for SLING SHOTS! i am gonna brain so many people

quickly

we were led from the dock through great velvet stage curtains to the dining room where there was a long, botanically adorned, herbally intimidating dining table. we were told to sit in the chairs where the cards with our names were. in that order.  first- sit. that was the order. we were instructed not to move them (or our bodies) as the GSJ (Grand Sir Judge) had plans concerning the placement of the delegates at the table. i was already terrified of the man. very terrified...i had always been terrified by judges* when i lived on land, but out at sea, being a whalingman, i have -(whaling Captain)- i have become accustomed to a policy of high-seas disjudgementalism, which is to say nobody did anything wrong ever unless i saw the incident (and i have to point to the specific rule in our ship's rules and regulations handbook which i got bored and stopped writing after about seven rules and one regulation that has to do with facial hair styles or something unimportant or really important depending on your angle). my first mate, bobo, came up with the disjudgementalist credo earlier on in the expedition and it has so far worked more effectively than our previous policy of immediate hyper-judgement, which ended the lives of many crew members. who are probably still trying to figure out the optimal times to die on their journeys from soul net to soul net (when a man dies at sea and the ship continues on and he is in the vicinity  of a soul net, (which despite popular belief, appear quite regularly over some of the most barren of our oceans) he ends up right there and needs to time his drowning/dying and swimming,  which is made much easier by every seaman's most important bookette, the one that pertains to the precise locations of planet's soul nets via PPS coordinates or something. i have been drinking and can't remember the specifics or the title or anything else. point is, you may time your drowning with the tides so that you can be dragged rapidly into a soul net coverage area (depending on your service provider) ((i know some people have th0se piss-pirate conspiracy theories about how the soul nets are somehow not saving non-subscribers, but that'    s bullshit...i don't have planTech and i Came Back in what i'm pretty sure was mainly their coverage area(((we're all in it together here in the whaling, guys!))))) anyway, my dining-table card was conveniently next to that really rich broad from earlier who i was impressed by for some thing...i was very excited because of all the booze from the earlier room!

*the only reason the Sir Judge is on my ship is that it's a high seas ordinance to have a judge as part of the crew, like having a ship's doctor or a jester

time to realize things

as we were introduced to the new area... (the dock was pretty great on its own, but you should see the rest of the room - WAIT - i can describe it with sexy words so there isn't confusion, and i happen to be working on my expressiveness ...so that i can submit my journal entries to big ships' logger weekly!) ((that's a terribly dirty sounding name for a publication i just realized)) (((honestly - just the word, "publication" seems dirty to me)))
...we saw that it was very nice.

sadism

we all exited the two idiotic and pointless vessels (not at all sea-worthy) ((i know - as a captain)) and were helped up onto the "dining-dock" by the prostitutes, who graciously beat the shit out of us with 80 year old bottles of the finest champagne as Grand Judge Sir Meteor Paisley watched and laughed like it was a funny sketch on the broadcasts....but some of us were bleeding profusely.
"okay, that's enough," laughed the judge as he lovingly kicked his whores into the little mechanical river. "let's feast!"

nuance

the goddam boat trip was less than 30 feet...this guy takes decadence to a new level. as we arrived (down what could've been just a hallway) several scantily clad whores threw expensive chandeliers at us, welcomingly

grand sir watchfullness

it seemed like an awful lot of things were happening suddenly, because suddenly, a shrieking red alarm went off (actually, it went ON...i don't know why we phrase it that way here)...at the same time a terrifying, robotic sounding* announcement screamed "DINNER!" over and over again with another very different, soothing voice in the background calmly reading instructions. the instructions (from what i could gather) related to the proper way to situate ourselves in the small track-wed boats that would eventually take us to the dining room. while we were all piling into the two small "boats" and the pleasant pre-recorded female voiceon the loudspeaker kept telling us that we were doing it wrong, i noticed the grand sir judge was now looking through the thick glass wall with his hands around his eye area (like that was helping), and his fat mouth pressed up against it so i could see his tonsils - and here i am- a guy who doesn't know what tonsils look like! ha!

*i don't want to be offensive but how are you supposed to describe that sound? it's just how it sounds...(you're all thinking it)...

intriguing personability

as i watched them walk away i felt an arm being placed over my shoulder in a casual fashion and i noticed the stink of a very powerful cigar. "you know who that is?" he asked me in a raspy voice while pointing his cigar at lucy. "it's lucy," i told him, "who are you?" "capt. ellis greenwray" he said proudly and then tugged my head over and kissed me on the cheek and then just stared and smiled at me for a little while..."hiiii," he said oddly and winked. he let go of me and grabbed a martini off of the conveyor belt of drinks that went around the room on three sides. he told me that "lucy" is actually Queen Lucifur Suchess of drexil (a pharmaceutical state) one of the wealthiest  states on planet, boasting vast drug mines and thousands of acres of fertile soil due to the true river that bisects the entire island (i guess making it two islands). output from drexil accounts for 85% of planet's entire drug economy. capt. greenwray, being extremely enthusiastic about celebrity gossip, was surprised that she was there because she is famously reclusive* ever since some event that happened to her that he was describing in detail and i was not listening to, nodding. captain greenwray was the captain and owner of a merchant/holiday ship called the hill plums 99. he introduced me to his servant, leo. leo had a terrible accent from who-knows-where and a very deep and raspy voice and he spoke into his chest like he was apologetic for wasting everyone's time making him almost impossible to understand. he shook my hand "murt scab" he mumbled. "yes," i replied. i continued shaking his wet hand as i awkwardly looked around for my shaman, teapots, to introduce, but he was now on the other side of the room just casually pulling fish out of a giant aquarium and absently flinging them into a nearby garbage-bin.

*i figured that's why i didn't recognize her. she's wearing a mask in all the pictures i've seen. if she was wearing a mask here, i would've recognized her.

mingling

after a half an hour or so of watching the grand sir judge and his friends continue the concert for nobody as if they weren't going to stop anytime soon, the guests began to comment to each other about the situation and relax a little bit. it developed into full scale mingling and despite the fact that we had yet to be greeted by anyone but the giant billboard and helicopters, the sense of unease seemed to be lifted and i began to notice that the room appeared warmer and actually physically nicer (with the mermaids' song sounding beautifuller).
sir judge leaned over to me cupping his hand around my ear and got his mouth to within a centimeter of my head so i could feel his long whiskers and breathing tickling the inside of it, and as he breathed he was audibly arranging his saliva in his mouth with his tongue and i started getting very uncomfortable and finally had to bark "what?!" and cock my head away but he just moved with my movement and finally whispered extremely loudly, "WE SHOULD SPLIT UP." i pushed him away and said, "yes! fine - get away from me.." so he quickly turned and motioned to his servant and yelled, "come, sod!" and walked off. i watched him for a few seconds when i suddenly realized there was someone standing next to me watching the sir judge wander off as well. "he must be a judge," she said quietly still watching him. i looked over at her. she was stunningly beautiful and sad looking. "yep!" i answered and drank my vodka. her servant was staring at me with no expression. he was very large (about 8 feet tall) and wearing a cheap navy blue suit.  "my servant schweppes.." she murmured gesturing towards the bear with her wine glass but still staring tiredly ahead at nothing. he nodded at me. i looked at her again. she stood there with her wine hand elbow in her opposite hand just staring straight ahead into space. i slowly turned my body 90º and  and shuffled sideways on an arc so that i ended up directly in front of her and just a few inches from her face. "who are you?" i asked. she backed up a few steps with an annoyed expression. "i'm lucy," she breathily replied and as if on cue, schweppes handed me a business card. as i took it from the bear butler, lucy and i continued to stare into each other's eyes. after a couple of seconds they both turned and briskly walked away. i looked down at the card - "Shweppes Murnett - Professional Butler"

cocktails

we made our way into the guest's drinkingroom at the very end of the hallway. the drinkingroom, or as it is more stuffily known, the imbiberary, is traditionally located closest to the front entryway in the most sprawling of planet's many mansions and manors, as it is always the first destination when company is summoned. so already, we were irritated by architecture, and cocktails had yet to be served. to make matters more terrible, we could see through one giant glass wall into the resident's drinkingroom where our host, Grand Judge Sir Meteor Paisly was sitting on a luxurious velvet beanbag chair spilling a goblet of wine everywhere with one hand and ashing a large cigorilla everywhere with the other, using both to wildly conduct  a group of six exotically attired dancing ladies, along with three little men playing some bizarre looking musical instruments and everyone involved was just laughing hysterically like they were having the time that we could clearly see that they were. we could not hear anything from the lushly furnished, impeccably decorated rumpus room due to a combination of the thick glass wall and the noise canceling bevy of fat, caterwauling mermaids, who apart from the slight movement of their mouths looked almost comatose; just sloppily deposited with limbs splayed out in different sized stained porcelain bathtubs with dirty water trickling down the sides. these mermaids are a different more unpleasant kind that don't resemble the traditional mermaids, like the ones on my ship, at all. they are just big shapeless masses of scaly fat that stink worse that a wharf sewer. sir judge, sod, my shaman and i all stood cautiously drinking in a corner of the room farthest from the glass wall.
i've seen some pretty audacious power plays in my time at these formal dinner parties.

thats all

an unappealing feeling

the first hall in the house is incredibly long. 450 feet long according to the dusty, flickering neon signs that were hung diagonally across the hallway from each other every 25 feet marking the distance from the threshold. 

there was not much additional light, so, as everyone impatiently ducked under the front garage door (which was rising painfully slowly on its loud, trembling motorized chain pulley) and clamored into the mansion's entryway, we all kind of froze and waited for the inflating and deflating of our vision to cease and allowed our eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness after the dangerously powerful, blinding billboard that the helicopters outside were displaying at our faces. everything began to come into flittering, reddish clarity* after a moment or two and we began to slowly move down the hallway with great caution and a refreshing, newfound feeling of team unity that had escaped us back 3 minutes ago when we savagely beat each other to gain first access to a situation that was seemingly becoming quite the kid-dudley's gulch. 


*there was beautiful, heavily varnished wainscoting of some variety of dark wood and lightly gilded dark maroon or purplish wallpaper that had an almost hypnotic swirling pattern that was somewhat disorienting due the shifting, vibrating light from the only light sources/distance indicators, and also from having our (struggles' and mine) only form of nourishment for the day come in the form of a certain type of moss that we cultivate right in the shipsgreenhouse and which has hallucinogenic effects that vary in intensity based on many variables that we have only speculated as to what they might be. we're pretty sure one important variable is eating nothing else for two days.

the evening in question

there were 12 guests at the affair. everyone arrived at the exact same time and all tried to get in the door first and with an additional 12 servant men, or man hands or whatever the hell they refer to them as in this state, the entry was very exciting. struggles (my shaman) and i were of course the first to make it to the door and get in after a long and bloody rumble in the cul de sac, but not before Grand Sir Judge Meteor Paisley's perfect-wonder-man-about-tasks blew the ceremonial blow-horn which immediately caused all the guests to discontinue the brawl and cover their ears and scream in agony at the eardrum shattering pulsed wails emitted by the horrific ceremonial blow-horn. as soon as the racket ended and everyone were able to stop clenching their brains, the splay of light from the gigantic mansion plasma billboard caused us all to snap our necks in unison in the direction of the advertisement for the dinner party (displayed directly over the house but kind of banging on the roof slates in the wind knocking down portions of dangerous sharp slate that were crashing to the ground sporadically right in front of the front door). actually, it's more of a front vestibule. it was built with the intention to protect visitors from large, falling shards of heavy slate, but it only provides protection if the re-enforced removable top is secured in place. this particular evening, the top had been removed so that we would all be able to see the giant helicopter billboard as we entered. it was hard to appreciate for very long as we had to dodge the raining daggers of slate for the next 50 or so feet to the actual front door, which is easily accessible after the tight dimensions of the "vestibule" door. it is a garage door with a knocker.

stress

the dinner party and the events that transpired in its wake, as you may have already found out from the headlines, was a terrible and harrowing affair. some things happened that cannot be taken back and the only solution i can think of that could restore order to the planet and an end to this fleeing is to have the shipswizard, Lampalogos make some kind of time-travel potion. the shipsquantummechanic, lem hugre, was lost in the battle at the harbor, otherwise i would assume that the only solution was to have him make us a time-travel machine. the time machines that we do have on the ship don't carry passengers so they're basically just disappearing machines.
out of options, i left my suite and headed to Lampalogos' room. upon arriving i summoned him to my chambers and after a few steps, stopped and told Lampalogos to return to his room and followed him. i should have just sent for him. my quarters are on the other side of the ship. i related our situation, and he looked thoughtful and rubbed his long-bearded chin that for some reason he had dyed rainbow colors since i last saw him, and continued looking thoughtful, his wise old eyes slowly gazing skyward with a slight rotation of his elderly neck. his eyes kept moving that way, though and they did a summersault (or summersaults), which caused his body to follow, and roll over his chair backwards, flailing its arms, yet somehow sticking a perfect landing. i gave him an 8.5 and could tell that he was kind of disapointed. "what do you think?", i asked. "well...i can give you a potion, but our funding has taken so many cuts lately...we need 100 million planet bucks."  "who is we? i thought you worked alone."  "i am...with...but...anyway, can you give me the 100 milion? otherwise no potion."  i finally agreed and went to the closest cash machine and returned with the funding. "how long will it take you to get all the equipment and chemicals and whatever else?" he didnt answer and walked over to a machine i hadn't noticed that looked like a very boring slot machine except probably 4 times wider. he inserted all the money one bill at a time, which took almost an hour (he is extremely well practiced in this activity, hence the unbelievable speed), and then pressed a button and just turned around and stared at me with his arms crossed. "what?," i asked. he explained that it takes a few minutes. he started tapping his foot and whistling obnoxiously. finally a barely audible bell rang along with a tiny light bulb barely lighting up and a little ticket barely falling into a compartment with a rolling back window like a vending console. Lampalogos slowly retrieved it and held it centimeters from his eyes to read, which looked bizarre as his glasses came after the note, in comparison to his eyes (when departing from his face). after some time i began to grow impatient, "WHAT?!," i screamed, "it's the size of a goddam business card!"
"i'm sorry," said the asshole shipswizard, "iv'e anylized the results and i have to conclude there is no such thing."
i shot him right in the face and stormed out.

the business

the dinner party was a few days ago now. but before that happened we had to unload the 26 massive barrier whales that we had sold over the internet to different interests. a couple of zoos, but mostly construction companies who use the giant mammals to move around the different parts in the assembly of underwater theme parks.
i have to admit that earlier when i was praising the men so much for all the barrier whale catching, i was unaware of some vital information: barrier whales are very stupid and have terrible natural senses of navigation and can't figure out how to leave the one relatively small area they have all been inhabiting for time immemorial. when they are captured they have a 90% chance of either becoming a pet, a zoo performer or a construction worker; all of which the barrier whale is dim enough to find a much better lot than the relative freedom of the barrier areas where he does nothing and usually doesn't try to. as result, the whales take turns being "captured" as they see it like a nice life opportunity and are too lazy and unagressive to fight for the position. when apparently ignorant whalingmen like me and my crew come around they are in luck because in the throes of incredible cockiness we don't stop catching the bastards until everyone passes out from exhaustion and violently congratulatory slap on the back welts. the few barrier whales that are somehow born freakishly intelligent for their species (compare to an average planet blue whale) soon discover their incredible freedom in a relative paradisical area of equatorial planet at which point they begin to pursue knowledge and discovery and when caught, unlike the 90% of barriers of average intelligence, are used for gourmet food ingredients as they are usually more tender and their giant brains are considered a delicacy as a whole thing. like, around the price of a mid-size yacht...some very rich men have them as the centerpiece at dinner parties. which i will get to. hopefully the events of the dinner don't catch up to me.
i don't think anyone knows what transpired yet.

arrival

we've arrived ahead of schedule. the ship is being docked as i speak. every port on planet can accommodate a ship of my ship's magnitude because a law was passed that every state adopted that requires all awesome ships "to fit". so far it has been working pretty well. (i own the largest vessel on planet...i think i caused the law! tee hee)

my man

Sir Judge informed me we may (are supposed to) bring a servant or butler to the dinner party and i don't have one, so i shall bring the closest thing: my shaman, grover francis mitchum. hopefully by the time we make landfall his name will have changed to a more servant-like cognomen. i personally prefer something short and sweet like 'snube' or 'croutons'.
Sir Judge somehow does have a servant, even though such things are forbidden on my ship. i informed him of this after he informed me of that, and i told him he would have to be charged with this infraction just like any other member of the crew would be if they were to infract, as my ship always has been and always will be a true democracy where all men are equal before the eyes of MY law and are equally invested in the business of whaling and high-seas adventure with light swashbuckling, and no man, regardless of title is above my decretum. so we had the trial and he was found not guilty by himself. this means he will retain his servant, sod, which is a relief to me, because i would've been terribly embarassed had i shown up to the dinner with my servant-disguised shaman and just the beaten and bloodied, barely breathing body of my hardly-conscious shipsjudge who is the only one who knows the host (or any of the guests for that matter).
the trip continues unabated!

cool hobbies and good diplomacy

we will be arriving in port in a couple of days. i have been invited to another dinner party. i don't feel like going, but it's not for 3 evenings yet, so who the hell knows...by then i might have dinner party fever and be just desperate to party in a very uptight fashion. the amount of consecutive days of being one way or another emotionally in a cycle is shrinking. but at least now i know exactly what's happening when it's happening so there can be some semblance of order up there. i hope in three days i get the dinner party bug, or this is going to be a shitty weekend.
the old bastard who invited us is some wealthy old bastard from guitar city. the place is named so because the mayor, brrAAAAnnehnaannevvwwwaaaIIIIRRRrrvehnanaeeeeAAAIIIInnwowwwwaaaannniinnngggg (who is named after part of a guitar solo he made up) is a fan of electric guitar music. he has so many posters - or so says the wealthy old bastard, Grand Sir Judge Meteor Paisley, who invited me and our shipsjudge, Sir Judge Powerful Trainly. that wealthy old bastard told Sir Judge that the mayor has twelve signed guitars! or guit-boxes as he (the mayor) calls them sometimes for short...or not for short - for different. and also the aforementioned poster collection. he keeps them rolled up in the original factory sealing that they were in when he bought all 1000 of them from the mayor of the neighboring town, New South Textures. they came in a large metal box which came in a large wooden crate that has never been opened so that they can't be damaged. it sits in one of the mayor's poster rooms which has been sealed shut with a wall of reinforced concrete. the mayor of New South Textures, Mike Washington, apparently gave Mayor brrAAAAnnehnaannevvwwwaaaIIIIRRRrrvehnanaeeeeAAAIIIInnwowwwwaaaannniinnngggg a great deal on the collection. they settled at the sum of 25 million planet bucks which is what we call the currency everywhere. each poster is signed by the individual or band it depicts and the entire collection came with a catalogue that mayor brrAAAAnnehnaannevvwwwaaaIIIIRRRrrvehnanaeeeeAAAIIIInnwowwwwaaaannniinnngggg made photocopy duplicates of and posted in a display case outside the room that they are sealed in. he had the original catalogue assassinated. i can't wait to see the duplicates of the pictures of the posters in the greatest poster collection on all of planet!
but first, the dinner party. i heard there are to be 15 other guests at the old bastard's manor, all of whom will have rich and extremely varied back stories. i made sure of that before agreeing to go, so as not to be bored. Sir Judge assured me that all 15 were picked based on a mathematical formula of dissimilarity and not to worry. he also reminded me that even if it was a party of 15 cloned sheep, my not showing up would result in irreparable diplomatic damage due to the fact that the small island city has suprising clout geopolitically, as it controls a vast amount of vibrantly teeming and developable ocean areas. some of these areas feature great under-sea theme parks which we definitely want to check out.

conquering the behemoths

over the past three days i have witnessed some of the most inspired whaling i've ever been party to. something in the men was just clicking and we caught 356 barrier whales. that number seems low compared to our normal tally, but we have not been in an area fit for the life of a barrier whale in some time. actually, ever...we are on the opposite side of planet now. and we took a crazy route. but the barrier whale is the largest of all whales that we know of on planet...or would ocean dwellers be considered in planet? why do the land and rock and ground of planet define it when the water which is vital to the existence of the place does not? the water is a part of planet. the whales are in the water...the whales live in planet...just like the giant wooly, burrowing land whales. the point is the barrier whale, however you define it's position in reference to planet, is about 8 times as large as any other whale on the whole planet. so 356 is like 3,000 regular whales. we've already sold 15 of them.

quite a rare condition

my shaman, phillip j. malara, mentioned something i think could prove to be important. he said i'm perpetually a little bit* late for two minutes from the present. that accounts for my and many of my family members' (probable) longevity. it is a recessive hereditary trait which about 10% of the population has, states my shaman quite frequently lately. people who have it, although they have a greatly lengthened lifespan, end up facing some upsetting troubles towards the end like blurred vision, hearing loss, dizziness and partial invisibility or translucence usually with the development of strong trails or what he calls 'the trailing p'**. philip also says that he doesn't foresee these symptoms becoming apparent in my own aging process for a good deal of time. which is nice of him to say. immediately following this summation, he went to his computer to legally change his name, as he does every other evening to "keep [them] off [his] twisted trail of astral plagiarism and bogus theosophy."
he also is apparently very paranoid, but he has cultivated a generally positive aura for the 1 week i have employed him so far.


one of these women is a carrier of the rare gene (and apparently close to death)


*1 second to be exact. we know this from extensive studies and maths
**the subject's body develops actual trails that are physically present, not the vision problems that cause him to see trails everywhere there is motion.

shipsafety

have you ever had something caught in your eyelid and can't use your fingers delicately enough to get it out? i'm sure everyone has. have you given up in pain and disgust only to decide to stick a shotgun in your mouth and aim it at what you believe to be the back of your eyeball? that would be stupid*. but have you tried the more rational practice of blowing your eye? it's like blowing your nose, but if you have no experience you may shoot your eyeball right out of your head killing a good seaman. especially if you have a scrimshaw eyeball with a pointy lead pupil.
this is what transpired at some point in the last few days (the mixture of days makes it impossible to discern which one it was. there are so many.) one of my top men thought he knew how to blow his eyes and also thought he knew how to blow his ears (which he did ((just ears))) and is also very powerful to himself**. when he attempted what he believed was the best way, his prosthetic eye shot out at 900 feet per second and brained one of my other less notable (thankfully) men***.
the lesson is that we need to come up with some guidelines about prosthetics on board. i will have to get a committee together to figure how to form a team that will be tasked with deciding the best course of action as far as assembling a new department to approve (or disapprove) all prosthetics based on several criteria that are to be determined. for the safety of the crew.

*if you are out of range of a soul net
**he gets hurt trying to do things as hard and fast as possible that he thinks he just naturally can, but can't.
***out of range of a soul net****

****thankfully

overstaffed

we commandeered a new(ish) ship. it's kind of unimpressive compared to our actual ship. i

i have aborted that train of events.....we have been taking lesser worthwhile men and tying them up and covering them in sackcloth bags and throwing them overboard...and i watched....it was a steady stream of writhing men drowning. i hated it. but we could not afford them. the payroll is way too high...i also cannot afford to lose the men who let me know that...and so they were spared...for now...soon i will realize their worthlesness

the flying nuisance

i've been observing the curious behavior of the flying nuisances that started following us a few days ago. these large seabirds are quite common on the open water, and quite ridiculous. we have come across them before. they have large teeth and gums in their beaks and they make the worst animal noises ever. it's lots of intermittent squawking and guttural yelps and drooling and sounds that if imitated in a joking, disrespectful manner would come across as very offensive to certain loving parents. they also have an awkward disjointed way of flying in their trains (groups) that is infuriating. it is infuriating in substance and name because there is absolutely no resemblance to a railroad train or any kind of straight line or even the very idea of practice towards an organized system. they clumsily bump into each other flapping, falling, flapping, rising, shooting of to the left or right for no apparent reason without flapping...they are constantly injuring themselves and falling into the sea, usually to drown while calling out the saddest, most hilarious sounding screeches and burps for help that you could ever have your heart broken by and then watch again on the film i made about them. they crash into the masts, get sucked into engines, slam into windows, get shot by us...you name it.
i've been trying to determine whether this erratic flying and behavior is an evolutionary survival tactic or not. through careful observation, i've found that it is not - as very few of them usually survive when they are near our ship. the train typically starts with upwards of six thousand birds. by the time it leaves the safety of the ship, it is down to maybe 0.

i should like very much to watch these fowl fly near another ship - a test ship! it's time to aquire a new vessel.

where the stuff is my hell?!

we've been robbed! someone has broken into the ship and made off with a bunch of appliances. i can see (from clues) that they also attempted to break into the main safe. our main safe is top of the line though, and basically impossible to break into. it has several defense mechanisms including a recording of scary sounds playing on a loop inside the door so that when a safe-cracker puts a stethoscope up to it he hears the scary sounds and runs away, terrified. also, the combination consists of 89 numbers.
so, whatever is in that thing is secure*. i had to make a list of the appliances and other stuff that they stole for insurance purposes. i made a list for my insurance purposes. they did not steal all the stuff for insurance purposes...want that to be clear. this is the list:
• 3 large capacity self-contained cabinet freezers
• 1 dishwasher (appliance)
• 3 deep fryers
• 1 industrial microwave-oven/incubator
• 2 dishwashers (crew)
• 5 residential harpoons
• 1 custom made alarmsundial-radio
• 1 80" flat screen TV
• 3 15" flat screen crystal balls from the Shipswizard**
• 1 7" remote control for 80" flat screen TV
• 6 sets of scuba gear (including aquapropulsion jet packs)
• 1 pallet of the very fancy sauce that i put on almost everything
• 9-13 spoons
• 1 cotton candy machine
• 1 series 9.4 super-cube player (with cables)
• 24 50 caliber machine guns (we are now down to just around 9/10ths of our 50 caliber machine guns...must remember to
re-order)
• 1 mallet
• 1 awesome cigarette boat - that's it!...we have to catch them...didn't even see that on the list the first time...my accountant or whatever should definitely know i don't read things past boredom! goddam brainiac jerk...okay, now i have to call a meeting of the on-board detectives and assassin mercenaries (we have about 12 of the former and 100-1,300 0f the latter...depends on season)

*i think i'll find out what's in it later

** Lungston Theories***

***this is an alias

we need to rub my head

i don't know what to think about the things we did yesterday...i kind of blacked out. i know i made a fool of myself and corpses of others. we have the nicest new yacht. it's not ours. i don't know what the hell we did. we never used to care but now i have a new sense of something. dignity? no...i had that...now it's something like feeling bad about murdering ..what kind of pirate am i? i'm none pirate, that's who...i'm a whaler...i murder whales...but i want to murder pirates and other competing whalers...not just whales...am i really that bad? are we really that different? are you really expecting to get a buzz from eating all the toothpaste and mouth wash? are you sure that the mirror you (me) can hear us? do yu really think brushing your teeth through the reflection is helping anything? you are making a mess all over the mirror and those teeth aren't getting less yellow

squads

it was bound to happen on a ship of this size full of angry whalingmen. we started a bowling league. one part of a lower area...not sure about what to call it...anyway, it's a long room which was perfect for making into a 4 lane bowling alley. we put in a cool bar, too. it has 2 taps and scotch on the gun. not very good scotch. and it mixes with soda residue. but whatever - nobody on this tremendously over-sized vessel gives a rat's ass about the quality of the drunkeners...(the brand of scotch, incidentally, is Rat's Ass...it's a 2.5 year old blend)

Day 1,379

the table in the captains quarters or, MY ROOM OF FOOD, is wobble.wobbely...wbbellie-i have no idea! point is , we put coasters under a leg and then the other leg was off and then we put a basset hound at one end of the table to keep an eye on things and that didn't work and now i've lost my train of beagle.

touching tenderness

i was leisurely sprinting up and down the stairs between the bridge and the arcade when i noticed something beautiful as i almost started casually sprinting back down...from the captain's chair which i was anxiously relaxing in i saw out the window (i saw it in a mirror pointing out the window...it was above me..my head was leaning back, resting) an old crew member slowly bending over to pick up a small piece of garbage that he was obviously not culpable for. it was just a civic kind of feeling of responsibility on the ship that all the youngsters don't seem to possess. he hobbled over and put it in a trash can and just kept hobbling. really slowly...what the hell does that guy do on this ship? there is no way he is fit enough to be on a modern whaling pirate ship. he looks like it though...not fit; he looks like a classical whaling pirate of the highest order...i miss him...he's walked out of my field of vision...back to my reckless ladder sprints!

arson!

someone set a fire in the ship's zoo. it scared the panicky zoo keepers, but the suicidal zoo animals welcomed it. the fire team was able to put it out, and are the main suspects. nobody was injured.
when we started the zoo we assumed we were saving the animals from the wild. they were out of control. now they have stable homes. the horses have stable stables. we protect them. that's why i was so confused when i saw on my monitor the way they were all in their tiny cages leaning toward the fire in an attempt to get burned to death. puzzles me still. maybe we could put televisions in their tiny cages and they'd be happy. (we don't even make them pay rent!)

fancy boat parts

i love the word periscope.
we had one installed this week that goes down so we can look around in the sea. keep an eye on things.

cuisine and family

they would just crawl around drooling with nothing but babyish, murderous thoughts. their expressions are completely baby though, so they don't reveal the murderous part.
the fact that they have the capacity to live so long in this state means that the lucky ones who live past 4 or 5 years are (due to experience) able to develop certain skill sets that would nauseate anybody who witnessed a human baby utilize. most become pretty good at fashioning and using crude weapons and utensils by the age of 5. this directly corresponds to their life expectancy i assume, and also why people don't keep them as pets. they need to be able to really cut the baby meat up very fine because, they never get more than just regular baby teeth (which are retractable). so chewing and tearing flesh is not their forté. when they do catch a fellow baby, they must find a safe place to start the hours long process of gingerly cutting all the meat into tiny pebble sized bits which they soak in sea water and semi-digested, regurgitated berries for more hours (we are of course speaking in terms of baby-hours). it's curious that they all, without exception, end up using this mode of preparation for their meals, as they don't teach each other or hand the recipe down generationally. they are literally self-reliant and have no bonds with other individuals of their own species emotional or otherwise and there is no sense of relation between any of them. even if they were capable of understanding the idea of clan or family, they would have no idea who was in their own, because the mother lays the egg and goes off to hunt for a baby. if we must figure out one way that they have a bond with anything, then they have been known to sometimes forge what could be taken as a relationship with their baby elephant masters, but that is really just because they enjoy riding them. it's the kind of love the men and i feel for our awesome cigarette boat.

sport

the only other babies on the island were baby elephants (which is also the proper, scientific name). like the human babies, the baby elephants never mature. they, are born with tusks though, so as you would imagine, poaching of them is even more rampant than in the human baby "society". the human babies themselves refuse to poach the baby elephants because they are different. the baby elephants do hunt human babies, but not for poaching; for slaves. its really not as bad as it sounds though, because the human babies love riding baby elephants and that is all that is required of the slave babies, as baby elephants love their national pastime: baby jockey races. this is the only fun thing about baby jungle island.
p.s.
dr 45 robots doesn't know anything about baby elephants

rotting baby husks

rotting baby husks

i have discovered new, indescribable panic

we're leaving baby jungle island. it was pretty upsetting. i have not put all the words together yet (more to come), but one of their customs, or rituals or scary tactics is they set up mannequins with translucent skin and neon tubes for "bones" at night. they don't look like human skeletons, just how a skeleton would look if it were made out of neon signs. also, when i do recount the experience, you will probably see heavy use of the phrase, "rotting baby husks". so, there you go.

insertion and retreat

earlier today we armed ourselves to the teeth and started slowly moving into the forest. jungle forest. rain forest. we thought (were hoping) that the baby in baby island referred to everything, but no. the gorilla that mauled my 6th mate, blend stonyface was full size. he (blend) had gone to piss with my 4th mate, jerry, and while they were doing this behind a couple of palm trees, the gorilla swept in and grabbed blend by the head and threw him to the ground at his feet about 4 yards from jerry who just watched and pissed in a more urgent way and screamed and cried but could not help. we all heard this but were strongly considering letting nature take its gorilla course.
which we did. and it did.
after we were positive that the gorilla was full (of our co-workers) , we quietly snuck through the roughly 20 yards of jungle back to the beach. we may not be ready yet. some of the men said they saw babies but weren't sure...their picture messages were blurry.

baby jungle island (cont. 2)

well it's dusk again...that was pretty stupid...
we ran out of all the supplies in the cigarette life-boat. i would get the group together to start moving the expedition along into the jungle, but nobody, including myself, has the required will power or lack of self-loathing to even contemplate going on a mission to further any part of this life. of course that will pass by dawn, but as of this writing, nothing will light the fire of adventure in my heart and if something tried to, i wouldn't probably feel it due to the distracting pain of what seems to be the roof of my mouth peeling off whenever i swallow.
this is as good as a time as any to pass along the "facts" about this (alleged) island...
the one obvious fact is that the denizens for which the island is named are babies. human babies. they're a completely different species, but lazily named. they are in every way exactly like human babies, but they remain that way through maturity. also they hatch from eggs outside of their mother (which is agreeable as the mother is essentially a baby, and who wants to think about what that birth would be like as the mother and child are roughly the same size...no-- that's why eggs). the egg itself grows in the nest, which, unlike with the majority of egg laying mammals, is left unattended by the parent (because they are babies). the egg, which is soft as if hard boiled, and viscous and delicious grows to up to 5 times its size (making it about the size of a baby) and then hatches and the newborn looks exactly as it will in 30 years when it dies of old age hopefully. i say hopefully because that would be the life expectancy of a baby if left to natural causes. shockingly however, on average babies only live 6 years in the wild due to rampant poaching and cannibalism. cannibalism by definition is perpetrated by the babies themselves, but you might be surprised (and a little impressed) to learn that so is the poaching!
more to follow.

baby jungle island (cont.)

baby jungle island is geographically and opinionally an island paradise. the sand is bright white, the water is crystal clear and chlorinated, and the medium-sized, brightly colored tropical fish have the personalities of really stupid dogs, making fishing extremely easy as they will come right up and sniff your crotch if you wade out to where the water is above crotch level. at that point you can just spear them through the brain and toss 'em in your fish satchel. just wading in to shore from my kick-ass cigarette boat we must've brain speared 65 fishes. that will feed all of the officers on the ship! all eight.
the coastline is mostly beach, with the exception of the northwest corner which is the steep rocky base of a mountain. the plush jungle foliage starts about 50 yards in from the water at the point where my team made landfall. i could see with my telescope that there were parts of the shore that the jungle went all the way down to. it seems like a pretty accessible island.
it is now dusk (we didn't time this very well) and so instead of just plunging into the jungle in the dark of night (which is 30% darker on this island, legend has it) we have decided to have a luau party! the cigarette boat is always packed with rum and cocaine, and with all the fish we caught we're gonna do it up right because its getting cold and we need to get this fire started and what's his face was supposed to bring the stereo - where the hell is he?! why is there no musi-oh there we go no, go to track 4 - you have to listen to the lyrics..no really listen to what he's saying - wait no it's track 6 - who's got a goddam lighter? yeah this is the song -matches are good, thanks-let me bum one of your smokes too- it's actualy about a horse he was given by his- we need some lighter fluid or something - wait - we can syphon some gas fom the boat-whose got a length of hose? we don't?! fuck- alrightmaybe gunpowder - i'm swimming to the boat to get my gunpowder and gun - shit, forgot my gun- always need it - right! i didn't mean you-i'll be right back!i'm gonna do butterfly -watchthis- it's my best stroke


approaching baby jungle island in the awesomest cigarette boat ever

baby jungle island

we have dropped anchor just off the coast of baby jungle island. i gathered a dozen of my best men and Dr. 45 Robots and took our really cool speed boat to shore. we were not planning on this diversion, but i saw on a chart that we were passing it and on this nautical chart, as on every nautical chart on the planet, it is written with a question mark after it because everybody pretends nobody knows if it's real or a thing of legend. for some reason there is this international treaty guaranteeing that everyone be vaguely mystified and unnerved by the island. there are many scary, mysterious "tales" about it, but they are all actually well documented fact. people just speak about those facts in hushed tones. so this isn't really a mission of discovery; its more of we just want to see all the crazy stuff we've read about in hushed thoughts.

This is exactly where Baby Jungle Island is...or so the legend goes

television was temporarily not enjoyable

we finally were able to get the satellite TV working. this took way too long. i would've rather had something else break...like the masts! so we missed some good programs. one of the programs we missed was a show i like called platinum gary. i could feel it being watched by everyone else who isn't on my ship. the show is very popular.

concerning Planet and home

the diameter of Planet is around 16,000 miles at the equator and more than 90% of it is covered with water. the lowest point in the ocean is 6 miles below the surface. the land masses above sea level are mainly archipelagos, with the exception of the nation-continent my family is from and owns, which also contains all the largest naturally occurring, above-sea-level geological phenomena on the planet. the tallest mountain on Planet was actually moved there from this small backwards island nation of savages. it was discovered fifty-something years ago that their peak was higher by 14'. the story was featured on the news. it was airlifted in and now we are pretty confident that our continent contains all things superlative on Planet.

taking control (cont.)

it wasn't easy, but we successfully got 550 of the prisoners into the humili-jackets which is what we decided to call them. i realize installing those large windows and building observation decks around the brig was actually a much better idea than it seemed to be at the time. now myself and a few of the officers who have the remote controls have tons of fun. we can force them to do all sorts of silly things. they hate it!

taking control

my friend, oscar was in charge of the brig. he is dead. he was murdered by a prisoner in the brig. i don't know which one, but it was definitely not suicide, because oscar was not a prisoner in the brig and that's who killed him. i'll have to investigate.
the brig on this ship is enormous. we have about 800 prisoners. that's way more than most ships, because when they (other, less capable ships) get to land, the brig is emptied. we hang on to our prisoners. it's about the ethical nature of me. i wouldn't want these disgusting lunatics working their way back into society. most of them are mentally challenged or violently retarded. some are just evil sociopaths, but let's just say all crazy people. they would be in west wing at the house if they were allowed off my ship (which will never happen).
they don't seem to have a problem with it though. the facility is state of the art. they would be in a much worse place if i did let them out because they would likely immediately be arrested for some horrible thing and put in the real Land Jail, which is very, very much worse. the brig has a soda machine and couches and television sets and dinette sets and model train sets and a library with books. they don't have cells. it's like a dorm for the criminally insane. for some reason they don't ever really hurt each other. that's another thing to investigate. maybe they have crazy pheromones. after oscar's murder, i began thinking about this in depth. they really have an extremely cushy lifestyle. they have way more cushions than we do on the rest of the ship and the brig is modern and beautiful with neon lights that you can't tell where they are and waterfalls on walls that exist only as such - they stand straight up in the middle of the hallways and common rooms and food courts, but they don't touch anything and the water goes nowhere but keeps falling. they have chandeliers and those booths that you can take little pictures of yourself and friends in and a gym also. me and the men have no such amenities. we have extra broken glass sprinkled everywhere and rusty barbed wire on all the nicest things, like pillows and cushions. they have a skating rink. our rink is walking. our juke box is the old one with cd's. they have digital and can listen to whatever they want. usually it's their favorite recording artist, steve. he is the WORST singer ever. it's a whole lot of screaming and whaling and chortling and weeping old popular fairy tales with disjointed, out of tune, deafeningly loud calliope music. that's the reason we don't hang out there i suppose. that and our fear of being murdered and eaten. and we are real men. real-ass whaling men. not some hoity toity mental patients with their own personal crazy butlers and x-ray generators. our x-ray machine is small and meant for pets.
the point is, they have it really good down there, and i am paying for it. the costs of repairs and maintenance and satellite tv and juke box...air conditioning, unexplainable hovering waterfall upkeep, drug and soda vending machine re-stocking (the drug vending machines are quite large. they empty in a day.) i've decided i will make it worse for them. that's why the ship's tailor, evelyn famous texture and i designed some new special, humiliating straight jackets. they are made with a light weight combination of materials of atoms and it's way too advanced to even imagine...but they can be put into specific shapes and force the wearer into ridiculous postures and gestures by remote control, and the prisoners have no ability to resist even though to the touch the material feels like the stuff they make sports pads for forearms and shins and hands out of. getting the jackets onto the freaks is probably going to be rough, but since we became pirates that one time, we are a lot tougher. let's get to it! i mean i'm about to do it...this is a journal. i'm not talking to anyone but me.

found it

we were attacked! the incredible story of the two and a half day battle on the high seas between ourselves and a large and dangerous pirate ship are too boring to go over, but at last i found my pistol. one of our cannon men, aunt vince, had found it during the battle in the large bowl by the gangplank where we leave our keys and stuff. he knew it was a quality piece of murder mechanics and thought loading one of the cannons with it and shooting it at their ship would be a good strategy. it didn't do anything but i swung over on a rope to the other deck and retrieved it and used it to shoot the pirate captain in the face. it blew half his head clean off. literally half...it was like a medical diagram if viewed from the side, and he was still alive and aware and extremely confused for about 30 more seconds before he crumpled and died. we now have two lovely ships!

sidearms

my captain's pistol is missing. i really like that pistol. the handle is scrimshawed whale tooth. the barrel is made from melted down cyborg tiger exoskeleton. the bullets are made out of 50 caliber bullets. i hope nobody stoled it.

worth

the men are upset that we left the tunnel now...the female ones especially; they wanted to shop more. luckily there aren't any of them. the male ones are not being seaworthy or trustworthy or james worthy, and i assume it has something to do with the lack of whales around and/or lack of female men in the crew. they don't realize that it is in our best interest not to allow ladies on board, so i am going to declare martial law (martial sea-law!). we'll leave marital law up to the divorce lawyers! haha!...anyway, the ship is under me and my goons' control now, with no fun. except lawyer jokes (which only myself and my closest staffers are allowed to laugh at)...and apparently hall of fame basketball players of whom we know nothing jokes (different planet)

nobody has any idea who this is

contuinng

we went to a great concert. it was my favorite band, The Atergoers. the setup was neat - the band and stage and everything was on one side of the tunnel and they played to the audience on the other side of the tunnel (this part of Brand New Tunnel is the least wide part ((about 200 yards)) and the stage area moves into the water about 100 yards toward the amphitheatre and is equiped with propelers and an engine and sails for if it ever leaves the tunnel). the amphitheatre itself is also a watercraft that can be released from its moorings and reaches speeds of up to 40 miles per hour ( some amount of fathoms). it's an exciting place to see a sea-concert. 

secondly, in a recent study that nobody conducted, we came upon a new type of gravity which doesn't exist and we can't explain, but it's certainly helping our navigation and speed...we got the hell out of that damn resort tunnel and are back on the high seas. 45 robots came along (Dr. 45 Robots)...everybody's a dr. now...i informed him he cannot be a doctor and a captain...he relented when he saw the movie

the top store

we went to the heaven store and man...that place is great! all the stores and markets and basically all business done in Brand New Tunnel is perpetual. nothing closes - not even the golf course*, so obviously lots of travelers end up spending a lot of time wandering around in this particular shop. myself and two meaningless members of my crew whose names i don't care about went in there for two weeks. i don't know what the record is for amount of time spent browsing in the heaven store, but i bet it's a pretty high number of days. nobody knows why they leave. you're just suddenly out in front and the newspaper boy tells you what day it is and you think, should i go back in? it's impossible to remember and everyone always decides not to.


*they are currently in the planning stages of a state of the art new half-indoor/half-outdoor course that is expected to host major professional tournaments. the course's designer, muchmore steverall, showed me some preliminary sketches, which are amazing and were mostly scribbled on cocktail napkins in a casino at this bar called The Promenade Passage while i watched. there will be holes that start underground in the indoor part and end up out in the open air above, or vice-versa (one par seven starts below and ends below but with a terrifying middle section above in a jungle full of wild animals and cannibal savages!) this guy was going to make a lot of money. (he said so)

45 robots

this one casino i was just in had a baby elephant petting zoo. the man in charge turned out to be an ex-whaling ship captain named capt. pladd "45 robots" glenn. he had a long grey beard that seemed to attach to his head with clamps. his left eye was missing and the right one had a green iris and half red half white sclera like when a blood vessel breaks. i asked why he stopped whaling and he told me there is more money in elephanting and elephant based ventures. he gave me a brochure about the elephanting life which had a focus on genetically constructing and breeding miniature elephants. (it turned out to be a miniature elephant petting zoo...not baby elephant) then he gave me several more elephanting brochures with focuses on domestication, grooming, birthing, slaughtering for their valuable ivory tusks and bones, training to play team sports, training to play individual sports, painting lessons etc. i asked capt. pladd why the brochures didn't really have a lot to do with catching elephants. he told me these are supplemental brochures. then he said a bunch of stuff about historical things in a slow intensely grim way and carefully reached into his beautiful captain's jacket (almost as nice as mine, but soaked in elephant piss) and gingerly pulled out an old leather-bound brochure that was covered in spiderwebs and dust which he dramatically blew off revealing some ancient writing and intricate etchings of scenes related to the catching of elephants. i happened to recognize the language and could see that the paragraph was full of misspellings and grammatical errors. he slowly looked up into my eyes with a strange expression and i said, "this sucks...when an old weird scary guy pulls out a dusty thing and blows the dust off, something important should be revealed! and we should be in a dark cave or sarcophagus with only flickering torchlight and we're in the middle of a giant, decadent casino! a cocktail waitress brought me a gin & tonic while you were in the middle of that lame speech and we are literally 8 feet from the slot machines...this is not the place for dusty-leather bound things you old cretin!" he looked ashamed and gave me a couple of 5 dollar chips.

restaurant review

the pizza was sub-par. the video games had buttons that stuck so we kept having to ask for more coins which they had to give us, so we didn't lose any money, but after a while it became so frustrating always doing great, almost getting the high score, catching lots of whales, and then the button stops working so the ship crashes. the only other games were the pinball machine ( that we already have on our ship), and the same robot plush toy grabbing machine that we also already have on the ship also ( the one with all the same prizes)

i need to get across this land mass

we are about to make our way through one of the most noteworthy above-sea sea-tunnels on all of Planet. there are hundreds of these natural or man-made tunnels all over the globe, and they are, for the most part, relatively short and navigable and have calm waters and few hazardous features making them great short cuts from one area of The Sea to another where, without them, a ship charting a course around the land masses they run through would be adding days to a journey. the only problem with the passages is the frequent piracy and other forms of lawlessness which flourish due to the fact that the tunnels are under no ruling body's jurisdiction. also they are poorly lit. and there is a lot of graffiti (mostly pirate style). the risk is usually worth the time saved and most ships have insurance and the pirates are largely a very silly lot. they will take everything, but it's funny.

the tunnel we are approaching, Brand New Tunnel, is much different. a hand full of these tunnels are privately owned and operated (and ((usually)) policed) by some of Planets fanciest wealth-guys. Brand New Tunnel is owned by industrialist and media mogul,...i forget... anyway, basically it's a winding 13 mile long shopping mall/casino/theme park/indoor golf course/condominium complex/other stuff. i think we will dock by the first pizza place we see that also has video games.


a small, insignificant tunnel. our giant ship wouldn't fit in there!

slim pickings

we haven't caught any decent sized whales lately. i don't know where they're living these days. we did find and capture a school of mini-whales. mini-whales aren't as valuable per pound because they lack the thick layers of blubber or something. i have to consult my sea creature encyclopedia/market price guide. they are mainly used in stews or more recently whale sliders. some people keep them for pets. not us though.

one of the men catches a mini-whale

serendipitous haute couture

the new captain's jacket i ordered came in the mail today. mail at sea is very exciting because it is so rare on account of there is no service that actually delivers mail to ships at sea here (which there SHOULD be) so, if you do get a care package, it's usually just that old lunatic, tables who calls himself "Mail Captain Tables" and shows up every once in a while in his pick-up boat (it's great fun - we see this dot on the horizon and it seems to take forever and the lookout comes running down the crow's nest escalator ((which he is NOT supposed to do (((also a rule is no running with a telescope in your hand))) )) with this maniacal look in his eyes, gagging on his excitement unable to speak with tears of joy running down his cheeks and all the men shout, "tables!" and run to get the best spot ((which is a gamble because he normally circles the boat a few times, so you really don't know where he's going to throw the "mail")) and they sometimes hold sparklers to get his attention so at night it's even better) and Mail Cpt. Tables throws a bunch of neatly wrapped trash on the deck, shoots a flair at someone or something, and speeds off. he's an interesting guy. always wearing the most serious and intensely determined expression that is laugh out loud stupid.
anyway, i ordered this really great captain's jacket that is made from 10 captain's jackets (very expensive) and tables delivered it to me.

The Importantly Lost

I haven't seen my friends in over two dozen years and they said they were gonna stop by and i was so excited because they are like family (that i don't hate) and so i was setting up an encouraging banquet of love and they were all murdered on the way here. I don't know what to eat first.

Gravy Fest

the Gravy Fest ended yesterday. each man made a barrel of gravy to be judged by myself and indestructible moe. i ate so much gravy! it took forever because there are so many men on the ship and i love gravy. after eating all of the gravy and comparing notes etc. we chose a winner. i dont know who it was because we assigned all the barrels a number and then lost the sheet that i wrote the names on (on purpose).

hand cream

i have blisters and they really hurt and i need a topical solution i think because i have been sailing and catching whales alone for some time now. i met some new friends that are rat people. their names are carly and steven and they live in the fetid bilge water in the hold. they absolutely love it and often invite me down to spend time and play with them. here is a picture i took on the three month aniversary of when they started going out:

missing new captain

ned is missing. i have been sitting around drinking and feeling sorry for myself and i guess things had been going worse than i had expected. i wasn't around so i don't have anything hilarious to report concerning the goings on during ned's short tenure as captain. i will have to relate any stories from heresay. i am going to have to rebuild. a lot of the men have also gone missing, possibly with ned. i will sober up, shave my face and armpits, re-dye my hair black and polish my extremely cute captain's nose and get back in the saddle! huzzah!

IM A PIRATE! I'M LAUGHING SO HARD I AM URINATING AND CRYING! GIGGLE ME TIMBERS!

THIS IS THE CUTEST CRICKET!!

THEY'RE HAVING A CONFERENCE NOW!!

I FOUND SOME CRICKETS!! DAMION LENT ME SOME GLOVES!! TO HOLD THE CRICKETS!! HE TOLD ME, "DON'T YOU TELL!!"

overrated

i am not the great captain that everyone thinks i am. if i was, people would think i am a great captain. i should be eager to get back out to sea and hunt whales or pirates or sea-elk. i have a poor attitude concerning this. i feel content here on shore just bumming around and having banana eating contests and drinking daquiris and burying my feet in the sand and reading a book and playing in this new band i started and hammocking and enjoying a back rub and teaching the local children about sexually transmitted diseases and hanging out at the tavern or the pub or the bar or the saloon and drinking the local rum and using the dune buggys and carving bullets and recording mix tapes and erecting statues of family members of mine all over the place and handing out pamphlets about new types of bread that i learned how to make with a new breadmaker i bought at the same place i bought the trampoline and water skiing and using the trampoline and spraypainting dirty words on windmills and supplying weaponry to the warring factions of the neighboring town for a large profit and watching old episodes of a show called platinum gary that i recorded about 12 years ago and trying to invent a new type of exercising that i could write a book about and having pig roasts and concocting plans and wearing a fancy hat sometimes and hooking my thumbs into my suspenders and saying, 'well sir..." as if it were one word and looking and turning on the air conditioning so that when i get home it's a reasonable temperature inside and playing video games and practicing sword fighting and slicing the plantar warts off my feet and having a recurring dream about this house that me and some other people got stuck in and you could see out the windows to outside the house but the only way to get there was tunnelling under these stone arches that were full of very smooth tan pebbles that were not hard to get through (think of the plastic ball pit at an indoor jungle gym), but we had to go under so we couldn't see until we came up on the other side and when we got there we were just in another room that looked exactly the same and after a while we just decided to live there and we met the guy who owned it and he was watering plants and then i wake up and catching crabs in a bucket and exploring the caves on the other side of the beach and making gumbo and treating the bums in town like they don't exist and trying on hats at this store that has this gorgeous lady working at the counter and appologizing for hitting the children in my dune buggy and sleeping and cracking my toe knuckles and hanging out in the opium den and taking long walks and naming all the trees surrounding this one restaraunt i enjoy and swinging in this rad tire swing theat is seriously like, twenty feet of the ground and dipping most of the food i eat into tartar sauce or some other sauce that might be available when i'm at that restaraunt i like and getting drunk and setting off fireworks. i just don't have what it takes to get back out there right now. the men are starting to get restless. i might hand over control of the ship to that guy who very succesfully captained his own ship, the marauder, for a few years before he lost it in a game of cards and signed on with me and has been one of the most trustworthy and talented men on board. or maybe ned. definitely ned. that would be so funny!

lazitude

i have absolutely no desire to get back out to sea, or do much of anything for that matter. i bought my trampoline, finally, and i also purchased a hammock that, when i'm not resting in it, i use the trampoline to bounce into it and then rest.

note: i think a funny thing would be when someone uses a trampoline improperly the trampolice come...and beat that person with bouncy clubs and real clubs.

fancy swine

i was sitting at the bar and there was a pirate chewing on his glass. he had a pig with a leash and it was wearing boots. i thought it would be a good idea to get the pig a skateboard with little clips that clip into the boots and then let him just roll around on the ship. or her. i can't tell. this pirate didn't look like the type who would put a bow on anything to differentiate.
i also the other day saw a windmill. it was a beautiful, sunny day and the birds were making noises and it was so relaxing and the windmill was covered in extremely offensive grafitti.

special event

great news! we happen to be in port on the day of the vegetable festival! they're everywhere just doing nothing or drooling.

docking

i have been successful in my navagatorial pursuits and we are now in a delicious looking port where the sky is the limit! the men have finished unloading cargo and are currently changing into their fancy land clothing.
the town is bustling with activity. i think we will spend a good week in port before we return to the sea. i made a list of things to do until then:
1-clean the ship
2-go to a tavern
3-use the trampoline i will buy
4-write a hit sitcom
5-grow big sideburns
6-dune buggies!

land ho!

we see some lights and we made a lot of daquiris and pther greatdrinks to have. awseonme!
soon well be at a cool harbour bar! yeahh! i made up this game wheree we play this game and whoever drinks the most first wins the gasme!

great news!

something wonderful has happened! i had some cotton candy and i enjoyed it!

i'm worried

i'm not positive, but i think that the mad scientist that ned hired may be a liability. all i ever see him doing is wringing his hands and muttering "they'll see...they'll all see!," and then he quietly and creepily chuckles. his name is dr. amanda w. albatros. he always wears these black glasses and i've never seen him actually do any science at all. i don't know why ned hired him or where he thinks he got the authority to hire anybody at all, but now that he's on the payroll my hands are tied. i don't want any trouble with the very strong mad scientists' union, but still, i have a very bad feeling about him.

on a lighter note, we got a cotton candy machine.

succesful day

we caught a bunch of whales today. i got 100 medals! they look great on my captain's vest. i figured out where we are and we will be stopping on land soon.

dehydration

the whales, in their veritable orgy of regurgitation, have all died of dehydration. we had to make quick work of harvesting their oil and meat and blubber and teeth and eyeballs. i hope they keep until we get to port which, by the way, should have been weeks ago. i just realized that now.
it seems we are lost. i'll have to go navigate.

sea-sick

the waters have been exceptionally choppy the past few days and almost every member of my crew is currently sea-sick including the captain (me). this is not hugely different for us in day to day activity though, because it is normal for a majority of the men to be stumbling around the ship puking and bumping into things, considering our primary means of sustenance is rum or dirty bathtub moonshine. the extraordinary problem here is that the whales are sea-sick as well. i doubt many of you have ever seen a whale vomit, but you would probably guess that it is not a delicate matter. one whale puking is powerful enough to quickly and violently clear out a large room full of toddlers. our cargo is currently 25 whales and they are all hurling uncontrollably. we already blew out one bilge pump and now with the added strain to the remaining five, we may have a disaster on our hands. the strange thing is the whales seem to be thoroughly enjoying the situation. their howls of laughter intermingled with the horrible sound of fervent whale upchuckery is audible in any area of this massive vessel. i am growing concerned that this may actually be a fiendish plot that they have conceived in order to sink the ship.

whaling

now it's time for a picture:

it looks like the one big whale is whispering to the other whale what comes next in their plan.

leaving the forest

we are back into the regular ocean and we couldn't be happier! i didn't care for all the monkey poop and i think most of the crew agrees with me. we should probably start whaling.
also, the crew came to a consensus on the issue of ned's mug and they decided to throw it overboard. ned got very upset, but then giggled and brought us to a big storage room that i didn't know about and it was full of them. he gave one to everyone on the ship and now they're all happy. what a great crew!

uneventfulness

not much to report today. we are about to play pictionary. we play a special way that takes several days. the person drawing gets a lot more time than in normal pictionary because we use oil paint. every turn results in a masterpiece. we have an expansive gallery of all our pictionary oil paintings.

note: one of those sentences rhymes!

unlikely visitor

someone stopped by the ship today and he seemed awfully sad. his name was franklin j. alarm-clock and he was a door to door commercial airplane salesman. at first he was very ebullient and did not seem depressed at all, but after i told him a few times that i didn't need any commercial aircraft, and that even if i did i wouldn't buy any from a man who sells them door to door, he became very upset and started weeping like a little girl. he cried and cried and went on and on about how he's the worst door to door salesman ever, and that his parents must be so disapointed in him (they apparently were very successful at selling ballistic missile submarines door to door). i told him not to worry about it and that maybe he should try selling airplanes to commercial airlines instead of randomly going to any old house or whaling vessel. he sniffled pathetically and asked, "do ya really think so mister? do ya really think i can do it?" "absolutely!" i replied, "i'll even get you off to a good start." i went and grabbed larry's credit card out of my captain's drawer in my captain's desk and i bought a 737 right then and there. he was ever so happy! but then her credit card was declined. i hate her so much. "whatever," i said to franklin, "im tired of you anyway." he sobbed all the way back to his little dingy and slowly drifted out into the horizon. i missed that though because i was on my way to the galley to get some pancakes!

this is what happened

a whale bit me in the knee!

it really hurts!

it is whaling related.

OW!

i really hurt my knee!

forest ocean

we just entered the forest part of the ocean. i have never been here but i have heard of it. it is like the ocean but with these giant trees all over. they are twice as tall as they look because they go all the way to the bottom of the ocean. you might think this part of the ocean is not that deep, but you'd be wrong. you would be so wrong. this is the deepest part of the ocean! these trees are so large!
also it's not as hard to navigate as you might think. it's not a very dense forest.

a new discovery!

i just discovered something! this ship for some reason has a lobby. also a concierge.

ned is a rabble-rouser

ned has unveiled his controversial new mug. it has caused quite a stir among the men on the ship. some are in favor of the mug, but far more are opposed to it. some have even called for his execution! however, he still brazenly walks around the ship drinking his ale and winking at all the incensed and dangerous men who do not see this whole episode as a laughing matter. i have a very important decision to make.

glen

one of the men told me something today that i had never noticed. i don't know how i missed it! this guy on the ship, glen, has so much nose hair! i checked it out and man, did he have a lot of nose hair. it was everywhere! in his nose, on his chest, on his arms and legs, everywhere! he even had nose hair in his ears!

i forgot the point

we finally caught a whale today. i forgot all about the business at hand because i've been so wrapped up in mermaid outfitting and pirate posturing. we need to get down to business.

spare change

we will be stopping into a port in the next few weeks at some point so i decided to put all the change from the swear jar into wrappers so i can deposit it. i started the swear jar a few months ago and it was about half full by the time we decided we are pirates and now its full. it doubled in just a couple of days because pirates have much dirtier language than whalers. so i almost finished wrapping all the coins, or in pirate, dubloons, and there is like, a million planet bucks. so that's good. maybe we'll have a steak dinner when we get to port.
also, when we became pirates we decided to give all the mermaids eye patches. so now they're rolling around in their wheelchairs with reverse diving masks and eye patches. they don't complain though. i wonder how far i can go with them before they get annoyed. maybe i'll give them elbow pads and mittens.

we are pirates!

we have been fighting pirates for a few days now and guess who are the champions of the battle! we are! we killed them all and took their clothes and used them to make ourselves into pirates and we look so fearsome that everyone has been hiding because we are all terrified of each other. these particular pirates didn't have much treasure, or 'booty' on their ship.

ned is weird (cont.)

when we finally got to the whale tanks (at this point i had given up on sneaking after him because it was obvious that he was oblivious to anything going on around him) he went and drew mustaches on all the whales while giggling uncontrolably. when he finished he turned to me and shouted, "WASN'T THAT REALLY FUNNY, DAMION?!" i turned and walked away. what a waste of seven hours.

ned is weird (cont.)

we seem to be heading to the whale tanks. this has been the most quiet i've ever seen ned until a couple of moments ago, when, even after all his caution about someone spotting him, he decided to pause for a moment and scream, "THIS IS GOING TO BE SO FUNNY!" and he went right back to his silent and humorously deliberate tip-toeing.

ned is weird (cont.)

ned is still creeping along at a snail's pace and holding in his laughter even when a crew member walks by. i thought the whole point was to not rouse anyone from sleep, but people are up and about and he is getting some confused glances, but he just keeps on going in his cautious and sneaky skulk, staring straight ahead, tears of happiness running down his cheeks.

ned is weird

i heard footsteps early this morning carefully sneaking past my chambers. i deftly hopped out of bed and checked the surveillance monitor. it was ned! he was tip-toeing way more cautiously than any situation would ever warrant. it was like he was in super slow motion. there was something else that struck me as odd as well, but i couldn't make it out on the monitor, so i decided to investigate. i cautiously opened my door without making a sound and stepped out of my room and slowly inched my way along the wall keeping my distance from the infuriatingly slow moving ned. as i got as close as i thought was possible without arousing his suspicion, i realized what it was that i noticed on the camera that made his crazy, slow walk seem even more bizarre; he was vibrating. it was somehow unsettling to witness. i had to get a better angle to see what could be causing it. i was worried about ned spotting me because he can be dangerous when frightened or surprised or looked at, but i had to move in. when i got in better position to see his face i realized he was biting his lip and had tears streaming down his face. the vibrating was due to his trying very hard to hold back an outburst of laughter. this intrigued me, so i decided i would follow him all the way to wherever he was going just to see what was so hilarious. it would take a while though; so far i had follwed him just about 3 yards. i will update as my investigation developes.

entertainment

do you know what i find really funny for some reason? it's the mermaids going around doing the dishes and cleaning and everything in the wheelchairs we gave them.

scuba diving

yesterday i decided to lead an expedition into the deep sea. we have the best, top of the line scuba-diving outfiture available on planet. it is so expensive that i left the price tags on all of it so as to remind the men how important it is to not damage anything as well as to remind them that i have so much wealth.
the objective of the mission was to find treasure, and/or mermaids. it was to be a dangerous mission, considering the depth of the ocean at our coordinates was 31,000 feet. part of the expense of the state of the art scuba-gear is the aquapropulsion fancy jet packs. we reached the bottom in like, a minute. it was really dark but we brought glowing stuff and it made the sea floor eerily beautiful. the first thing we found was a rake. it was in pretty good condition so we put it in our scavanging bin. next we found a big treasure chest filled with gold and jewels! i can honestly say that i had never been so lucky. within eight minutes we found exactly what we were looking for. either we happened to beat incredible odds, or this part of the ocean was littered with treasure chests. we loaded the chest into the bin with help from the friendly mermaids we met - oh yeah, also we found mermaids! the two things we set out to find, we found almost immediately! i was expecting to have this adventure take up months of time. oh well. so it was a great day and the mermaids came to dinner but they had to wear special negative scuba-gear and that made it awkward for them to eat.
what a terrific day!

missing writing utensil

ned threw my pen overboard. it was my lucky pen. guess what, though! i got a new one and i made it out of a feather! so now i can write again. a lot has happened since the last entry, like, yesterday i steered the ship for a while. i also saw a sea turtle. it was in the kitchen.
who am i kidding? nothing interesting has happened. i am getting pretty tired of this trip. we need adventure! i am going to have this ship start chasing pirates instead of whales. or both. yes, both. i am also thinking of starting a garden.

lovely dinner with family

tonight i dined in my private captain's dining hall with ned and indestructible moe, my only two relatives who i like on the ship. indestructible moe is an excellent chef and he made a delectible pasta dinner for the three of us. of course ned had to cause a problem. he was claiming that he only eats pretzles and refused to even try the meal that moe slaved over for the last 6 and a half hours. i began throwing forks at him, but moe told me it is okay with him and that he knows ned can be a fickle diner. moe is unbelievably understanding. i said, "fine, ill go get a bag of pretzles'" and i pulled the forks out of ned's forehead and left for the kitchen. luckily we had a bag of rods in there. on the way back i ran into 'pegleg' anthony j. lowenstein, the harpooneer. he gave me the twenty dollars he owed me and ran off on his two good legs. i don't know how he got that name. a christian first name and a jewish lastname.
i got back to the dining hall to find moe quietly eating and ned quietly sawing my antique gramaphone in half. this was curious and i quickly made the decision to cut off his thumbs. this made him upset, but when he saw the bag of pretzel rods, he became very excited. he became so excited he soiled himself and his ears started bleeding profusely. i realized i needed to bandage his thumb holes and try to calm him down, and with moe's help in feeding him the pretzles, we eventually persuaded him to sit back at the table.
for desert we had rainbow sherbet.

i just thought of something

we haven't caught a whale in almost two weeks! i forgot all about the whaling! better get to work.

ned's black box

ned flew in by himself. i didn't think of it initially, but the fact that he made it this far was amazing. he doesn't know how to fly a helicopter. or he didn't. he must have traveled a few thousand miles.
here's what got me really irritated: the crash was not due to his falling asleep. he didn't fall asleep. he just went to sleep. he decided to go to sleep, possibly for the first time in his life, while flying a helicopter in the middle of the ocean. how do i know that his nap was a decision? we listened to the flight recorder (black box) and this is what we heard at about 20 minutes away from the crash (remember ned is alone in the helicopter):

"I REALLY ENJOYED THAT SOUP!" (5 minute pause) "I'M TIRED! I'M GOING TO SLEEP NOW! GOOD NIGHT MRS. ROSENCRANS!" (snoring)

the repairs are almost finished and ned is uninjured. so i guess all that is behind us. it is nice to get visitors.

ned's arrival

so here is what transpired and cost me almost a billion dollars:
i recieved word from ned that he would be paying a visit. the letter read "DEAR DAMION-
I AM COMING TO YOUR FISHERMAN BOAT FOR FUN I AM BRINGING MY BIGGEST SUITCASE I AM THE BEST SAILOR LOVE QRX!"
that was almost a week ago. yesterday in the early morning the lookout man heard a helicopter in the distance. the helicopter was approaching rapidly and he sounded the alarm. i awoke from my slumber and put on a robe and my captain's hat and took the elevator up to the deck just as the helicopter crashed into the forecastle. we put out the flames and pulled ned out of the wreckage. he appeared to be asleep until i noticed that he started vibrating and as he could no longer hold it in, he bagan laughing uncontrolably. he opened his eyes (first his left then his right) focused on me, and yelled, "HI DAMION!" and gave me a hug. i didn't know what to do so i just sat there.
i have heard of people falling asleep due to fatigue while driving, so i figured this is also possible for flying a helicopter. it was strange because as long as i've known ned, i have never seen him sleep. he is always either sitting around looking like he is about to do something, or he is doing something. come to think of it, i have never even seen him close his eyes and that includes blinking. naturally, i was confused.
the black box would answer all my questions.

'ned' sucks

i will never let him live this down, but he has the mentality of a 5 year old and it's killing me. you woudn't believe what has happened, but i will relate it all as soon as we clean everything up.

qrx

qrx

i'm expecting a visitor

i have received word that my brother, qrx will be visiting. he is close to my age and looks exactly the same except he has yellow hair. we can't be sure who is the older because larry destroyed our birth certificates, as she does with most of her children. she named him qrx because she hates him. qrx was born and larry immediately said, "yeah, i am going to hate this one," all nonchalantly. jim told me this story. then she said his name will be ned but it will be spelled qrx. so its pronounced ned. i'll refer to him as ned.
anyway, he will be arriving by helicopter sometime today. i don't know whether to be excited and happy or anxious and terrified. he is unpredictable and utterly insane.