In the Wilderness

It's difficult to say exactly why I went down the road of self destruction. It seems, lookin' back, it was a plethora of things that I used at the time to "justify" my behavior and cynical attitude.

Certainly the Navy wasn't what I expected it to be. It appeared as if all of my hard work was noticed no more than the work (or lack thereof) of those who did everything they could to get out of work.
I mean, what was the use in puttin' out 100%?
I wasn't advancing any faster than anyone else. There was no meritorious advancement in my future, no special medals for service above and beyond.
Where in the hell was the glory?

Hey, don't get me wrong, I was no braggert, even at that young age of 18, but if this was a movie I would've been standin' out, maybe gettin' more respect and an opportunity to lead.
Afterall, I had been in the Navy an entire year already!

At any rate it didn't happen overnight, and the short answer as to why? 'Cause I wanted to. Besides, the girls like the bad boys, right? Right? At least, that was my observation at the time...in the dives I frequented.
Yeah. Same as high school.

Why am I so depressed, so pissed off and so...sad? Was it because dad divorced mom and left when I was five, never to visit, call, write or even provide child support again? What had gone wrong? We had such a great time before that, fishing, goin' to the races, playing football. Everything a dad and son did. I only hd fond memories of dad up to that point...the point when I told him about what his friend had done to me.
Soon after that, everything fell apart. Actually, I learned later that everything was falling apart before that happened, but that was several years later.
But damn! Why didn't dad do sdad or mom do something about that guy? I still don't know the answer to that question.

Who could know that a friend had raped their child and do...nothing? I expected dad to beat the crap outta the scumbag, like Popeye puttin' a serious beatin' on Bluto (which is what the pervert looked like. Bluto, that is).
But neither my dad nor my mom bothered to even call the police.

Ugh. Yeah, I have daddy issues, I thought, disgusted with myself. well, f*ck that! I'm over it now. Who needs this sh*t? I had been usin' my altered military ID, compliments of a pal in Personnel. Okay, not really a pal because he charged me fifty bucks. Highway robbery, but where else was I gonna get one at?

I was riding the bus to Long Beach, down to the "Pike" which used to be a hoppin' place, kinda like a small Coney Island I had heard, but was now run down. Only some scattered dives remained among the abandoned businesses that used to light up the place like a gigantic carnival.
Dives with a unique mix of customers such as longshoremen, bikers, shipyard workers, rednecks, and sailors.

It felt good to get off the ship, especially after a long day of grinding, chipping and sanding rust and paint off the weather deck. That wasn't my "normal" job, but when a ship is in the yards for an overhaul no one except maybe the Bos'n mates do their "normal" jobs.
Besides that, virtually everyone had several other jobs to do, such as security alerts (real or drills), fightin' fires (which happened quite a few times in the yards), fire drills, flooding drills, sweepin' and swabbin' the decks, cleanin' the heads, taking out the garbage, cleaning the spaces, maintenance on the WTD's (watertight doors and hatches), maintenance on the electronic equipment we used, updating charts and a gaggle of publications, working parties to resupply the ship's stores and galley, standing watches, duty days, inspections, mooring detail for other ships coming or going, mess detail, general training, and many other duties.

Not to mention the ship was dusty and smelled of paint, paint thinner, turpentine, oil, fuel, sweat, BO, wax, various cleaning agents, grease, the acrid smell of welding and cutting torches, and a long list of other smells depending on where you were at on the ship.
Despite all the cleaning that was done the ship was never really clean in the yards.

Then there was the noise. Sanders, grinders, pneumatic tools, chipping hammers, petty officers and chief's shouting orders, sailors cussin', an occasional junior officer asking questions or tryin' to pretend they knew what to do, slowing work down in the process, sailors arguing, sailors askin' to borrow the tools you were using (there never was enough tools to go around, and if you weren't fast enough to snag the best tools you ended up having to use sand paper and elbow grease), and more sailors swearin'.

The first day I reported to the USS Duluth (LPD-6) I saw, heard and smelled all of this. My first thought at the time? WTF? Oh sh*t! I'm screwed!
Not really what you would call a cheery environment. This only added to the bad attitude I had developed since reporting onboard.

I walked into my favorite dive and ordered a beer. I had onlty been here a few times, but I liked the place. It had a jukebox with classic rock and country on it. There were a few pool tables and I liked to play, although I was inconsistent. Sometimes I made evry shot I wanted, and other imes I couldn't sink anything. There was also a very small dance floor but it was seldom used.
The bar was a horseshoe shape, and there was ten tables or so with chairs. I preferred the barstools.

I looked around and surveyed the bar. It was close to 1900 so the bar was beginning to fill up. I sat down where I could see the two entrances and still keep my eye on the rest on the area. The last time I was here there was a fight between two bikers. I don't know why, but one biker simply walked up and clobbered another biker who proceeded to clobber back. The fight didn't last long before one of them was out cold. A biker chick had smashed a beer bottle over the back of his head. The remaining biker beat feet, bloody nose and all, his drunk girlfriend staggering behind him and cussin' at the unconcious biker.
Needless to say I wanted no one behind me.

"Here ya go," Mitch said, sliding me a frosty mug of budweiser.

"Thanks Mitch," I said.

Mitch owned the place and he had three or four bar maids workin' for him at any one time. I was faily certain Mitch knew I wasn't twentyone by the way he looked at me after checkin' my ID, but he just grinned. He wasn't gonna turn me in.

Three beers later Luca walked in and sat down next to me. I didn't know him very well since he was a Bos'n Mate, but everyone respected him. I had heard he had been in twelve years. Currently he was a petty officer third class, having been busted in rank for fightin' and being UA (unauthorized absence) from the ship due to bein' jailed. Scuttlebutt had it that Luca would've been a chief by now, but he loved to drink and fight, so he got busted a lot.

I only met Luca once when he was in charge of the tool locker, but I saw his hulking form frequently, shoutin' orders at the other bos'n mates and sometimes laughing loudly. He asked me where I was from and I told him California, florida and Oregon, but mostly Oregon. He laughed at that.

"I'm from the Bronx," he had said.

And he sounded like it. He asked for my name and shook my hand, welcoming me aboard the ship.

"Work hard and you'll be okay," Luca said, shaking my hand.

I winced from the vise-like grip of his massive, heavily calloused hand, but I didn't show it. I squeezed back as hard as I could. Luca looked me in the eyes and laughed again.

"You're alright for a RADAR guy," he said, chuckling, finally releasing his grip. "Hey, if you ever have problems with any of my guys when you're gettin' tools just tell 'em Luca sent ya," he concluded, slapping me on the back and almost knocking me down.

Geez, that guy is strong! I had thought, rubbing my right hand. I could tell, just lookin' at him he was a badass, and someone I never wanted to piss off. I could also tell he knew his job well.

"Hey Luca!" I said, raising my mug.

"Ben, right?" Luca replied, holding up two fingers to Mitch.

"Aye," I said, surprised he remembered my name.

Mitch brought a mug of beer and a shot glass of what looked like whiskey. Luca downed the whiskey in one gulp and drained half his mug.

"Ahh! That hits the spot!" He exclaimed. "Nothin' like a good boilermaker, eh? Have you tried one yet?" He asked.

"Not yet," I replied.

"Whattya waitin' for? Mitch, two more shots," Luca said.

Mitch brought another shgot glass and filled both Luca's and mine with whiskey, an amused look on his face.

"To the Duluth!" Luca bellowed, raising his shot glass.

I raised my glass and repeated the toast. I didn't really want any whiskey with my beer but I wasn't gonna tell Luca that. I downed the whiskey and did my best not to cough. I had drank whiskey before with my Grandpa, but only small amounts, and small sips. I never got drunk and neither did Grandpa, but I enjoyed those times, even though I never liked whiskey all that much. At least not as a teenager.

"Now you drink some beer," Luca said, grinning.

"Right," I managed to rasp, drinking a few big gulps of beer.

The beer helped ease the harshness of the whiskey. This whiskey tastes a lot worse than Grandpa's Canadian Mist, I thought.

We had a few more boilermakers and Luca told me some sea stories. After the third one I was getting pretty wasted. Not bad, I thought, but my stomach wasn't too happy with me. At this point I didn't much care.

"Damn it!" Luca exclaimed opening up his wallet. I only gotta fiver left. Would you spot me a twenty?" Luca asked.

I didn't have much money, bein' a seaman and all, but I did have forty bucks left. I gave Luca a twenty, wondering if he would remember borrowing it.

"Thanks Ben," Luca said. "You're a lifesaver, pal!"

"Glad to help," I said, lighting up a smoke.

"What are you looking at, assh*le?!" A guy on the other side of the bar shouted.

It seemed like he was looking at me, but I wasn't sure. I took another drink of beer and continued listening to Luca. None of my business, I thought.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, f*ckface!" The guy shouted.

"Knock it off," Mitch said.

"That guy is eyeballing me!" They guy said, standing up and walking around the bar in my direction.

Another man who had been sitting beside him followed. I watched them both and they were definitely looking at me. Oh sh*t! I thought. When they got close I stood up.

"Hey I don't want any trouble," I said.

"Nobody eyeballs me, boy!" The man in the lead said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

The other man was beside him now and both looked dead set on kicking my ass. They appeared to be longshoremen or yard workers. They also both appeared wasted and mean as hell. They wre both bigger than me as well. I knew I should run, but I refused to do so. I quit runnin' from bullies in junior high school, and I wasn't about to start now. I got ready to strike, tryin' to formulate a plan.

When you're outnumbered the best thing to do is look for equalizers. The only equalizer nearby was my mug, so I grabbed it.
That's when I noticed the guy who had been yellin' at me had a knife.

Crap. This just keeps gettin' better and better, I thought.

The guy with the knife lunged and I took a step back as he slashed at me, missing.
Then I saw a chair from one of the tables smash him on the side of the head. He went down like a brick, and I saw it was Luca swinging the chair.
Next he kicked the other guy in the knee and I heard a crack as that guy fell to the floor holding his knee and screamin' in pain. The Luca hit his in the jaw with a haymaker and he was out like a light.

It all happened so fast that neither one of those guys could react. I could barely keep up with what Luca had done. Damn! I thought. Luca is more than a badass!

"Thanks Luca! Man, you really kicked the sh*t outta those guys!" I exclaimed.

"Holy sh*t, Luca! Way to go!" Mitch said, putting his baseball bat away.

"No sweat," Luca said. "F*ckin' pr*cks!" Luca said, kickin' the guy who had the knife in the ribs.

Luca picked up the knife and examined it. It looked like a switchblade. He gave it to Mitch, and sat back down as if nothin' happened. A lot of guys shouted praise or gave a thumbs up, but Luca was nonchalant about it.

"They were p*ssies," Luca said, lighting a smoke and taking a drag.

"That deserves a couple of free drinks," Mitch said, refilling Luca's shot glass and bringing another beer.

"Refill Ben's too," Luca said.

"Sure thing," Mitch replied.

"Listen Ben, don't ever hesitate. Guys like that you gotta take 'em down fast n' hard, y'know?" Luca instructed.

"Thanks Luca. I could use some pointers," I replied, nodding my head.

Luca gave me fighting tips the rest of the night and more sea stories, of course.

On the jukebox I heard one of my favorite songs playing.

Man In The Wilderness, by Styx

Another year has passed me by
Still I look a myself and cry
What kind of man have I become?
All of the years I've spent in search of myself
And I'm still in the dark
'Cause I can't seem to find the light alone

Sometimes I feel like a man in the wilderness
I'm a lonely sailor off to war
Sent away to die - never quite knowing why
Sometimes it makes no sense at all

Ten Thousand people look my way
But they can't see the way that I feel
Nobody even cares to try
I spend my life and sell my soul on the road
And I'm still in the dark
'Cause I can't seem to find the light alone

Sometimes I feel like a man in the wilderness
I'm a lonely sailor lost at sea
Drifting with the tide
Never quite knowing why
Sometimes it makes no sense at all

(I'm alive)
Looking for love I'm a man with emotion
(And my heart's on fire)
I'm dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean
I'm alive

Sometimes I feel like a man in the wilderness
I'm a lonely sailor off to war
Sent away to die - never quite knowing why
Sometimes it makes no sense at all

The song seemed appropiate for my own life at the time. Would I see the light? I thought I did years before but now it didn't seem real.
Would anything ever make sense? I felt a loss I couldn't explain and a sorrow beneath the armor of my humor, riding a wave of cynicism that was growing stronger by the day.

It was glad to have a new friend, but loneliness was always creeping at the edge of my thoughts, often intruding when I allowed myself to think.
I tried to pray but I was beginning to think that God might not exist or...I didn't deserve His attention. Nonetheless, I needed answers, or a few more beers.

Indurance

It's funny how much work a pup and teenage dachsi can be. The effort required has certainly surpassed my expectations.
For one thing, dachsunds have small bladders, so you really hafta watch 'em and take them outside often, normally every two hours, but sometimes more, and rarely, less.

Secondly, neither Patti nor I have ever had a young puppy. The youngest pup I recall having was six months old, and already housebroken.
So I searched the innernet and got plenty of info.

Only take them out for five or ten minutes, and once they do their thing, praise them and bring 'em right back inside.

Yeah, right. This may very well work with most breeds but not these dachsi's. They go when they are ready.

Put them in a kennel type carrier when they sleep, or when you can't watch them, because they won't go where they sleep at, is more advice.

Hyeah. Please. Now, with Skully that wasn't a problem, but Little Miss? Well, after you get over the incessant whining, and you never do, and the crying makes you feel guilty..."I'm a monster! Free the puppy! Poor thing. Awww, it's alright. Don't do that. Oh c'mon, it's only temporary."
And then she does indeed pee n' poop in the carrier. Strike that idea.

When Little Miss whines it can mean several things:
She has to go.
She's hungry and/or thirsty.
She's tricking you so she can play outside, then she'll pee or poop when she gets back in. Argh!
She's tired and needs a nap.

I've never had a dog that fights sleep like she does, but our youngest daughter was like that. Sigh. Our youngest daughter is now grown up and is workin' as a psychologist at Fort Bragg, where she served four years as a Soldier in the 81st Airborne while goin' to school at night to get her degree. So she wasn't adversely affected by the fightin' sleep syndrome.
Come to think of it, I often fought sleep so I could read books as a kid, by moonlight sometimes, or the small amount of light coming under the door, or a borrowed flashlight under the covers. But I digress.

What I have found works best for the pup is to sit her on my lap and pet her, turning off all the lights I can, and grabbin' her every time she tries to escape to attack Skully or Cammilu (she loves to wrestle/play fight). Sigh. As Caesar, the Dog Whisperer says: "be calm and assertive." And that works with most other dogs, but not Little Miss. No, she's a rebel, an outlaw who laughs at the rules. However, persistance is rewarded, after many long battles.

A few days ago I was about to go to the store and Skully, who is always well behaved darts out like black lightnin'! I immediately followed, callin' his name. At first I walked fast, tryin' not to scare him, but he just kept runnin' down an old, unused road that's mostly getting overgrown now.
So I ran faster to keep him in visual range, soon going into an outright sprint.

Now, I haven't ran like that for ages, but I couldn't let Skully get ate by coyotes, or a bear or cougar. Yeah, as most of you know we live in the boonies, and I did see a black bear once, and a cougar, as well as plenty of tracks. But coyotes are the biggest danger to small dogs and cats.

Skully sped up and so did I. I briefly wondered how long I could keep this up. As most of you guys know, it wasn't too long ago I was at death's door under the care of hospice nurses and my wife, Patti, unable to walk or talk, or even read without goin' into a seizure.
I have made great strides since then, but I still have very little physical energy or endurance.

I pushed the thought out of my mind. I refused to stop, although my muscles were screamin. Oddly, I wasn't huffin' and puffin' for breath, I remember thinkin'. Even when I was extremely fit, during my Navy days, I would be breathin' purty hard at this point.
I have a mission, I thought, and I would. Not. Stop. Until I had Skully securely in my arms. Period. I ran faster and felt my adrenaline kick in. The minutes went by, and I was sure I had passed a mile, but I could still see Skully, about fifty feet ahead.

Earlier, he wanted to walk down that old road, and we walk it often. He loves it, having been born and kept in a barn for two years before we got him. So this was all new and fascinating to him.
One thing I have learned with dachsi's and terriers is that they can become obsessed with something, be it a rabbit or a mole or a smell, or whatever. They don't forget it, and it will stay on their mind sometimes for days.
For Skully it's this old road, and wild rabbits.

The road turned into a trail, and then barely a trail. Soon we were runnin' through brush and a lot of branches from the logging the owner of the property did a few years ago. Amazing how fast the cleared out land became overgrown with more small trees and brush.

Fortunately, this slowed Skully down a bit, but it also increased the danger of a sprain ankle for me. I looked ahead and saw woods about two hundred yards ahead.
At one point I was close enough to tackle Skully, but I didn't wanna hurt him.
He surged ahead, outdistancing me. Damn! Maybe I should've tackled him while I had a chance, I berated myself.

I forced myself to keep going, runnin' ever faster. My legs burned, and felt like they were about to spaz out. You see, I have peripheral neuropathy in my feet and legs, and sometimes the muscles will knot up into a herd of charlie horses, not too mention burn like hell which happens most the time. That sucks, of course, but I'm thank God I can walk again, and even run when necessary.
But if my muscles spaz out no amount of willpower would enable me to walk, let alone sprint.

No, I thought. Don't go there. I steeled myself and stopped thinkin' about it, as sweat drenched by face and burned my eyes. I poured it on, ignoring the pain. I gotta catch Skully, I was thinkin'. I just gotta.
The woods edged ever closer, but so did Skully. An idea popped into my head. What if I yell "No!" very loudly? It could make Skully stop or it could make him run faster.

When we got Skully, a few months ago, he would often cringe when we would bend down to pet him or pick him up. That's usually a sign a dog wasn't well treated or perhaps he was ignored.
Cammilu, our terrier would also do that when we got her, but now she trusts us. We would never hit our pets, except with a newspaper in extreme cases, or, I found a squirt bottle with water works purty good whe they misbehave. Especially when they dislike getting water on them. At any rate, nothin' to hurt them but rather get their attention.

I realized time was runnin' out. I had to try somethin' before my legs gave out or before Skully got into the woods, where I would probably lose him. I hoped this would work.

"No!" I bellowed. Skully stopped and cringed. Yes! I thought, quickly closing the gap.
I got ten feet away when I steeped on a branch. It snapped loudly and Skully got up, ready to bolt as he usually does at loud sounds.

"No!" I yelled again, launchin' myself towards Skully and grabbing him as he began to run.
I picked him up, balancing myself on the branches that littered the ground.

"It's okay, boy," I said calmly, cradling him in one arm and petting him. He wagged his tail tentatively, and eventually realized I wasn't gonna hit him.

"Yeah, it's okay," I said, as I slowly walked back to our home.

Halfway back I saw Patti who was lookin' for us. She smiled when she spied Skully.
I knew she would be out soon to help me find Skully. It took awhile for her to find where we had gone, but she did. She always has my back, God bless her!

I felt good, although my legs were killin' me.
I can still do more than I think I can do, I thought. Not that I wanna run like that again, but simply knowin' I can feels good. Getting stronger...yeah, that feels great, but as I told Julie this mornin', replying to her e-mail, it feels like I'm in bootcamp at the end of the day, and I can barely keep my eyes open as I fight sleep, the pup finally asleep on my lap and Skully sleepin' beside me.
I'm exhausted but I'm gettin' stronger.

I sure do miss you guys. I'll try to blog n' comment at your blogs more often, as I get stronger, as once again I realize I can do more than I think I can.
That feels Good!

Puppy Pandemonium

I like my pork rinds straight n' neat, I said. Hold the rocks. But that dame bitch slipped me a mickey. Wow, maybe I should quit watchin' those really ancient flicks that Dad likes to see. Besides, the music can be scary and don't get me started on all those shadows n' stuff. I love pork rinds.



Nothin' like some leftover chew bone to start the mornin'. Too bad Skully or Cammilu ain't around, then I could get them to soften it up for me, before I borrow it from them. Guess I should've thought of that last night. Oh wait, I did think of that last night, ha ha! Boy, were they mad!


Time to sit up, I guess. Where is everyone? Sleepin' in again?


Gotta do my yogi exercises that Dad taught me. Yeah...that feels so much better. Now I am in touch with my inner therewolf. I wonder what a therewolf is? That guy with the weird eyes said somethin' about it on that movie we watched last night...Young Frank n' stein. 'Cept he didn't look very young to me.


Lookin' good in my seadog outfit that big Skully gave me. I wonder what a pigme is? He said they were really short like me.



Time to kill the tiger! Little Miss thought.

Can't be too careful around these things.


"Hi Mom and Dad! What's for breakfast? Look, I killed the tiger...again," Little Miss said.



Cool! Giant lips! Skully thought.



I really hope no one saw that.



If I'm vewy vewy quiet, I can ambush Skully again, thought Little Miss.


Geez, not again, Skully thought. Doesn't she ever stop?


"Dangit! I got babysittin' duty again!" Cammilu said. "I'm a terrier, not a collie."



Little Miss takin' a nap, no doubt dreamin'...dreamin' to take over the world!




"Don't make me beg! Okay, okay I'll beg," Skully said.



"Hey, let me outta here! I didn't do it I tell ya," Skully said.



Skully takin' a leisurely stroll while I sit in the command chair, surveyin' the tactical situation. The work of a cap'n is never done.



Here's Little Miss runnin' so fast she's just a blur. In fact, so am I. Could be that the grog I drank, along with her superdog speed has thrown the entire space/time continuum out of whack.



Skully n' Little Miss n' me sleepin'. I'm the one wearin' red. I think.

There's that blur again. Is this what a wormhole feels like?


"I'm down with that," Little Miss dreamed. "Hey! Are those flyin' pigs?"


"That is the best doggone smellin' underarm I ever smelt!" Exclaimed Skully.


Skully n' Little Miss sleepin'. They look so cute, but don't let that fool you. I mean, they are cute, so don't get me wrong, but that's a distraction, designed to...distract you. You see, they're rechargin', in order to wreak more havoc and let loose the dogs of war! Or somethin'.

Shingle Me This!

I interrupt this broad cast for this important message:

Sung to the tune of "Basketball Jones" by Cheech-

Shingle toe woes,
I gotta shingle toe woes,
I gotta shingle toe woes oh baby,
ooo-ooo-ooo! (Or is that ooh ooh ooh?-Ed).

Yes OCAS fans, I now consider myself a battle hardened veteran when it comes to everybody's favorite chicken pox on steroids past time: shingles (kinda like tingles but with hellfire and insane itching).
This bein' my fourth incounter with the pox and all.

Not that I'm complainin', mind you. This is just my left foot. I can soitenly think of worse places it could be, so I'm happy it's not a repeat performance of the last three poxes (poxi?-Ed). :^)

Skully, always willin' to help (as long as he don't actually hafta do much) recommends: Aye! You guessed it, copious amounts of grog, with rum chasers. Or was that copious amounts of rum with grog chasers? Aw hell, I'll try both!
And for once, I'm in total agreement with Skully. Fight fire with fire! Blow those damn shingles to kingdom come!

For a few days now, I have seen the puppy with a kleenex tissue, running around like it's a trophy or something.
Where in the world did he get that? I wondered, since I throw kleenex away after using it. And I'm not prone to dropping them around the house.

So I go take away the kleenex, but not without heavy resistance and a rigorous chase that finally resulted in the recovery of several pieces of kleenex. But I won, by george! I won! Yeahhh! Take that, Little Miss! I'm da man! A bit out of breath but still da man, regardless.

A few minutes later Little Miss runs by with another kleenex, and was quite happy to see the look on my face. The next day, the games continued, three more times. Where is she gettin' the damn kleenex? I wondered again.

As the sweat rolled off my face, I threw the pieces of the latest "kill" away, and I notice a black flash to my right, down by the floor. Little Miss was pulling the kleenexes from the box next to me. Very convenient for pups and people alike. Why you little...!

What's this? Now Skully has mixed together, usin' his coveted shipboard alchemy skills, somethin' he calls "torpedo juice."
Now I've heard of torpedo juice while I was in the Navy, but I never had the chance to try some. For those not familiar with the term, it's basically a form of moonshine. Although Skully says it puts moonshine to shame, so perhaps that's an unfair comparison.
I'll just taste test it and tell you first hand what it's like...gulp.

...?!

...!! "Ack!"

...!!!

Er...hi there, shipmates! Skully here. Cap'n Ben is...well you might say he's takin' a "power" nap. Yeah, that's the ticket. But don't you worry none, Cap'n Ben will be up and about in no time. My torpedo juice will speed up the healin', see. It gathers all those imoon cells and they go after those nasty ol' shingo cells. Sorta like "repel borders!"

Those imoon cells get little shotguns (pump action, of course) and .45's. Others get M-14's, M-16's, (or whatever the hell they're usin' these days) and naturally we got some mannin' the .50 cals. Then they go space to space, deck to deck throughout the ship (or body) and blast those scumsuckers all to hell!
You might've heard of my famous battle cry:

"Damn, where's the torpedo juice? All ahead flank!" Or somethin' like that. I dunno, there's so many variashuns I fergot the actual words, but that's purty close.
"Fire!" Is another one you mighta heard. I'm fairly certain that one is verbatum.

"C'mere, pup! Wanna kleenex?" Those pups really like kleenexes for some reason.
"Here, a bit of sardine oil will make it taste better."

The Return Of Sea Stories

Know what? I really hate that stupid escape button! Here I almost finished a fairly decent (for me) post, and I accidently hit the Esc button only to find my entry blank. Arrgghh!
Hey, as slow as I type, this is a substantial loss! Okay, whining time is over (grumble, grumble).

Okay, to make a long story short: After the last and probably final act of my foray into fiction, I'm returnin' to the true blue sea stories that almost made me in-famous, or somethin'.
Youse guys never did hear the story of how I almost self-destructed, and how a few, very painful...well, don't wanna ruin the story now, do we?

Of course, my longtime readers n' friends know the ending, as of now that is, but this was a very crucial time in my life. Consider it a pre-seaquel. A time where I was in a freefall into the abyss. Naturally, there was still a lot of comedy to go along with the tragedy, so it won't be a long slog through downer after downer.

And once again, please aceept my apologies for not stoppin' by your blogs as often as I would like. If only I could speed read again. However, I am thankful I can read again. :^)

Also, as most of you know, I lost most of my stories from my blog going a few years back last fall, and the backup site I was savin' everything to went belly-up as well. What are the odds? No, don't tell me. Anyways, I may be able to recover some of it through microsoft outlook, so I'll be doin' that as much as I can.

And in between writing I'll soitenly be visitin' your excellent blogs. :^)

Skully Redux and Little Miss Now With Photos

I'm rarely surprised when it comes to Patti. Afterall, our anniversary is next month and it will be our 28th. So we know each other purty well, which keeps any major surprises to a mininum.

So imagine how surprised I was to wake up a few days ago to see a puppy!

A baby mimi-dachshund, to be exact.

Same colors as Oscar was. And imagine how much more surprised I was to see a second mini-dachsund!! This one was older.


The pup is a female and Patti has named her Little Miss. The other is a two year old male, who I christened "Skully." Apparently, the pup was on sale and Skully was thrown in (not literally!) for free, since he's older and very skittish. He lived in a barn and was used for breeding, but had very little human contact. He's already getting over the skittish part, however, and both dogs are already learning to be house-broken.

While they are learning, (Skully hasn't had any accidents for a day) Patti and I have honed our dung-fu skills. We limber up with tai-pee, before unleashing our awesome abilities on the newspaper covered battleground.

We're still lookin' for our camera, but hope to post some pics soon. Incidently, puppies are much more exhausting than I recall. Do they ever sleep more than an hour at a time? You know how cats can get on catnip? Well, picture the puppy reacting the same way (looney-tunes, man!). Is there such a thing as dog nip? Or is Skully sr. feedin' it grog?

Oh, and we don't want Cammilu to feel left out. Pay no attention to that bum she found.

InnermissioNoir Fu

Act 18: Changes

"I must examine you, Mack," Hanna said, unbuttoning Mack's shirt.

"Okay," Mack replied.

"Get me a flashlight, please," Hanna ordered.

"Here," Akira said, handing Hanna a flashlight.

"It is...it is healed! All you have left is a scar!" Hanna exclaimed, shining the light on Mack's chest.

"Yes," Mack said.

"Wow! How did that happen so fast?" Annie asked.

"Maybe it was that stuff Gramps used?" Hanna replied, touching the scar.

Annie touched the scar as well, in awe. This...was impossible, and yet the proof was at her fingertips.

Whoo! A police siren sounded and pulled up. Mack tensed, as if to run.

"It's okay, Mack," Annie said, holding Mack's hand.

Mack calmed down as the two police officers got out and approached, hands on their guns. They both shined their flashlights on the group. Jim intercepted them and flashed his badge.

"What's going on here Jim?" The older officer asked, looking at Mack who had his shirt unbuttoned.

Mack tensed up again at the sound of the officers voice.

"I can't tell you that at the moment, Johnson," Jim replied. ""I'm working on a case, and they have information I need. That's all I can say."

"Well, sorry Jim, but I think there's several people that will be interested to talk to him," Johnson said, drawing his gun and pointing it at Mack.

The other officer reluctantly pulled his weapon too, unsure of what he was supposed to do, he pointed his gat at Mack also.

"You mind explaining why you drew your weapon, sir?" He asked.

"Of course, O'Brian. You see, that guy over there is Mack Westphal. He's supposed to be dead, but nevertheless he is wanted as a suspect of multiple murders. Go handcuff him, and be careful," Johnson said, smiling.

"I don't recall a BOLA put out on him," the other officer said.

"Because he's supposed to be dead! Now cuff him!" Johnson ordered.

"Belay that!" Jim ordered. "And holster your weapon. Now!"

"No can do, Captain. In fact, I'm arresting you as well," Johnson said, still smiling.

"For what?" Jim asked, visibly getting angry.

"For aiding and abetting this murderer," Johnson said. "Radio for back-up," Johnson continued. "I got the feeling they aren't going to cooperate."

"Listen to me son," Jim said, don't blow our cover. I outrank Johnson so do as I say. Stand down, Johnson!" Jim ordered.

"Radio for back-up," Johnson ordered.

"He-he's right, sir," O'Brian said, putting his gun back in his holster. "He does outrank you. I'm sure we can get this cleared up at HQ."

Blam! Johnson shot O'Brian in the head. O'Brian fell, a look of shock on his face.

"Fine, I'll do it myself," Johnson said, sighing.

"What the hell?" Jim exclaimed, going for his gat.

Johnson swung around to shoot Jim, so Jim dived behind the car fender, cursing.

"I always figured you were a traitor but I never thought you would sink this low," Jim said, finally getting his gat out.

Johnson tried to grab Hanna, but before he could take one step Mack was on him. Mack grabbed Johnson's arms and squeezed so hard everyone could hear bones cracking.

"Aaahhh!" Johnson screamed, dropping his gun. "No! How? No! No one's that fast!"

"I know who you are," Mack said, his eyes flashing as they bore into Johnson's soul.
"You helped get my family murdered."

"N-no, you got it all wrong! Mack, y-you know me, we're pals, right? Okay, okay! I'm s-sorry, okay? I thought he was just going to scare you, you know? I didn't know he was going to k-kill your family. Please! You got to believe me! P-please! I had no choice. D-don't kill me, I beg you! Look, I tell you what, I-I'll make a deal with you, Mack. Y-yeah! I-I got money...lots of moolah! More than you can dream of. Y-you can have it! Yeah! All of it!" Johnson shouted, his face twisted with pain and fear. Sweat poured profusely down his face.

Mack stared at Johnson so intensely that Johnson began to shake in fear.

"Did the Grandmaster have help?" Jim asked.

"Y-yes. His go to guy was there, and so was Yukio, but the Grandmaster did all the
k-killing," Johnson replied.

"Murder. It was...murder," Mack said, his eyes watering up.

"R-right. M-murder," Johnson said. "I would have told you, Mack, but they would've killed me. I-I'm sorry! I r-really am. Please...have m-mercy."

"who else?" Mack asked.

"H-huh? What d-do you mean?" Johnson replied.

"Who! Else?!" Mack said forcibly, still unable to shout.

"I-I...I told you, Mack," Johnson replied.

"Who the f*ck else, Johnson?" Jim repeated. "You better talk now. I won't be able to stop Mack if he gets...upset."

Johnson's eyes darted around nervously and he licked his dry lips, as more sweat streamed down his face. Mack let out a gutteral growl and Johnson looked at him. Something in Mack's eyes told him he better come clean. Mack would kill him and do it slowly. Johnson saw hell in those eyes. His hell. And he could already feel the flames hungrily licking his soul.

"Okay, okay okay!" Johnson exclaimed shutting his eyes tightly, so he could avoid Mack's gaze. "It was the Ch-chief, okay? Please...let m-me go. I hurt s-so bad," he whined.

"You don't deserve an honorable death," Mack rasped in disgust, dropping Johnson like a sack of potatoes and slowly walking away.

"The Chief? Chief Brody?" Jim asked in disbelief, shaking his head.

"N-no, not him. Th-this was when mack was detective," Johnson said, holding his wrists to his body and wincing. "He's mayor now."

"Good God!" Jim exclaimed. "Of course! It all makes sense now. All the misdirections, and dead ends and mandela...he set mack up to be fired. But why?" Jim asked. "Why Mack's family? And why didn't they go after Mack?"

Johnson immediately went for his heater. He could still move his left hand. He didn't usually fire his weapon with his left hand but he had practiced for situations like this. Besides, at this range he was certain to hit Mack.
Johnson brought his heater up, a crazed laugh escapinfg his lips.

"Go to hell!" Johnson screamed, as he aimed at Mack's back and laughed hysterically.

Boom! Boom! Boom! One bullet hit Johnson dead center and hit his vest, knocking him back. The other two bullets hit him right between the eyes. Jim advanced, still pointing his weapon at Johnson. He kicked Johnson's weapon aside and checked for a pulse. There wasn't one.

"No," Jim said, "you go to hell, Johnson."

"I recommend we leave. Now," Akira said.

"Mack, I'm sorry you had to hear that," Jim said, putting his hand on Mack's shoulder.

"Good shot, Jim," Mack answered, smiling tightly. "Thanks."

"We're going to get them, Mack. The Grandmaster, and the Mayor. It's reckoning time," Jim said, determination etching his features.

"Aye aye," Mack replied, patting Jim on the back.

Annie grabbed Mack's hand and led him to the car. Mika screamed when she saw Mack's face more clearly.

"He will not hurt you, Mika," Akira said, as she got out of the car and clung to him.
"Mika...this is Mack. Mack, this is Mika."

"A pleasure," Mack said, bowing deeply. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"H-he's not human!" Mika shouted in Japanese.

"Yes he is, Mika. And he is our friend!" Akira berated her in Japanese. "Come, sit with me in the front."

Mack sat in the back, with Annie and Hanna on each side of him.

"Let's get that shirt buttoned," Annie said, buttoning Mack's shirt.

"I bet you never thought you would be buttoning Mack's shirt," Hanna said, laughing.

"What are you trying to say?" Annie replied, blushing. "Are you thirsty or hungry, Mack?" She asked.

"Yes," Mack replied.

"You are in luck, we have a bar," Hanna said. "What do you want?"

"Drink?" Mack shrugged.

"I know that, silly. What do you want to drink?" Hanna asked.

Mack shrugged again.

"How about the whiskey, Hanna?" Annie said.

"Right. Mack likes whiskey," Hanna said, pouring Mack a tumbler of whiskey and handing it to him.

Mack downed the whiskey and coughed. After coughing for a few seconds he said, "You're right, I do like it."

"Here Mack, we have peanuts, pretzels, sunflower seeds, candy bars and potato chips," Annie said, piling bags onto Mack's lap.

"Good thing the nuts are shelled," Hanna quipped. "I still cannot believe you ate that egg, shell and all."

"That was funny," Annie said, laughing.

Mack picked up a bag of peanuts and looked it over.

"Here, I'll get that," Annie and Hanna said at the same time, reaching for the bag.

"I got it," Annie said, smiling.

"Right. I will get him more to drink," Hanna said, smiling back.

"Go easy on the booze back there," Jim said.

"Alright, that is probably a good idea, Jim. Here Mack, try this," Hanna said, pouring perrier into Mack's tumbler.

"What is it?" Mack asked, sniffing it.

"Water with bubbles in it," Annie said, as Mack drank it down without stopping.

Mack looked at Annie and then at Hanna, and back at Annie before burping loudly. Everyone laughed. Even Mika, although she tried to hide it.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

Everyone heard the song Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys playing and looked around for the source of the music.

"Good song," Mack said.

"It is Sensei!" Akira exclaimed as he scrambled to find his cell phone.

"Akira, it is Sensei. Can you hear me now?" Sensei asked.

"Sensei! Mack is alive!" Akira exclaimed.

"Yes, I know," Sensei said. "The cave I left him in has been empty since the funeral."

"That medicine you used worked!" Akira said. "Wait! You knew?"

"First time that ever happened," Sensei answered. "Although I suspect it was far more than the medicine I used. Yes, I suspected, but I wanted to be sure."

"Why did you not tell us?" Akira asked.

"Why get your hopes up? As I mentioned, this never happened before. How does he seem?" Sensei asked.

"He seems fine, except for some memory loss. Plus a sore throat, or some kind of problem talking like he used to," Akira replied.

"Hmm," Sensei mused. "well, he has been dead for three days. I am certainly not an expert on this, but he should regain his full memory."

"It is not just that, Sensei, he is...different. He has...changed," Akira said, whispering.

"Of course he has changed!" Sensei replied. "Who would not? Where are you?"

"We are heading to Long Beach to stop the Grandmaster," Akira said.

"Very well. I will meet you there," Sensei said. "What is the exact location? Yes. Okay, good. See you in a few hours or so," Sensei finished, hanging up.

"I changed?" Mack asked.

"Yes, in a good way, Mack-san," Akira replied turning red and glad it was dark.

"How?" Mack asked.

"Well, you have better hearing for one," Akira replied.

"You're a helluva lot faster too," Jim said.

"And you're more handsome," Annie said, squeezing mack's hand and smiling.

"You are also healthier overall," Hanna said.

"Thanks," Mack said.

"M-Mack-san?" Mika asked, barely audible. "Please excuse. Why were you laughing when you k-killed Yukio?"

Mack furrowed his brow. "I knew. While I was...away, I saw things. I heard...what Yukio had...planned for Annie. When he...offered money, power, I knew. So pitiful...he was. And...Yukio thought...he could trick me. Funny. But not fun. I saw with...clarity. I'm...sorry," Mack said with difficulty.

"Thank you, Mack-san," Mika said.

"Do you remember Mack, your time away?" Annie asked.

"A little. There was...no time. A man...an angel took me to a...place. There was another man...not an angel. I saw...my family in...the distance. I was...given a choice to stay...or return," Mack said.

"Why did you choose to return?" Hanna asked.

"I...because...you, Annie," Mack replied, turning to look at Annie's dim face.

"Oh Mack," Annie said, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry. I thought I was losing my mind," she wept.

"No. I wanted to...be...with you," Mack said, gently wiping the tears from Annie's face.

"You came back for me?" Annie asked, overwhelmed by love. Mack nodded.

Annie hesitantly kissed Mack, and Mack followed through with a kiss of his own. A very long kiss.

"Apparently, he has not forgotten how to kiss," Hanna quipped, smiling.

"Hey, get a room you two," Jim said, laughing as he glanced in the rearview mirror.

"Yes," Mack said, after the long kiss. "now you're...stuck with me."

Akira heard Mika sobbing softly, although she tried to hide it.

"Mika, what is the matter?" Akira whispered.

"The love they have, Akira-san. I am moved," she replied. "Please excuse."

"No need to excuse you for that," Akira said softly.

To Akira's surprise, Mika wept more and hugged him. Akira hugged her back, gently stroking her hair.

"What is this, an epidemic?" Hanna asked, laughing playfully.

Hanna was happy for Mack and Annie, and she hoped that her dad and Mika would fall in love. Hanna sighed wistfully, as she began to mentally make wedding plans for both couples. Someday, my prince will come too, she thought, without a trace of envy.