Thursday, November 15, 2012

Do you mind? Ooh! I just can't wait to get sick!

Somewhere in Paradise, The Caribbean – In the little chapel that doubles for a base 'auditorium,' the new hires gathered for a long, droning day of 'orientation' that mainly consisted of indoctrination in the arcana of the 'health care' program provided by Travelers out of Houston (we have a problem).

Now, this is a 'downrange' tracking station, the kind where the lads with pocket protectors and watches you need a university degree to tell time by have at it with pushbutton megadeath from World Wars III, IV, V and VI, you dig?

A whimsical sculpture of a wire-haired terrier in the scavvy bushes
Finally, as everyone watched that big hand close in on 17:00, the hour when the ship comes in and the slop chute opens across the plank, the moderator, a 50-something graybeard with an avuncular and corporate attitude, said, “Any questions?”

From the back of the room, a Chief Petty Officer, retired for about a week and already struggling with debt, court orders and tax levies, spoke up from the gravel pit somewhere deep in his abdomen, and said, “Do you mind? Ooh! I just can't wait to get sick!”

We just fell all about the place. Fell all about the place and left them laughing in the dust.

Right, then. Cheerio.

- The Legendary (beep beep)

No comments:

Post a Comment