Part One Here
Part Two Here
My “For Real” Story of Diego Garcia, Part Three
Tag Archives: SEALs
This Post Gets No Love. Why Not? I Put Some Thoughtful Thoughts Into It. Why Not Me? Huh?? Read This: Is this not moi, me? (Or why not me? Whom Else were You Expecting?)
I had to see if the world was round.
Trust Me: It Is. I Can Verify That–Having Sailed Around it
Twice
****
The Judds, or as Peanut called them, “The Jug Heads”–no point in arguing with him over semantics.
Why-Not-Nona Why Doncha Lay Down Upon Me? On Me Naomi?
Why Not Me?
Why Not?
Still Thursday, eh?
and yeah: I edit as I go…
****
Picking up from the last half-chapter…
Matt, Rogers, and I were in Viva Young. I had been smitten.
But the ‘Smite –her’ was elusive, so Matt and I retired to the pool tables. Me hoping to fleece him outta some beer money. He hoping for good conversation and Lance Good Wolf-Ticket talk.
We both got what we wanted, until…
Until Pain walked in.
Pain (his real name) was my roommate back when I was in BUD/s Class 140. Pain was a pain in the ass. He was a tow-head boy, weighing in at about 150. All attitude. Bad attitude. He reminded me of Peanut, without the good to outweigh the bad. I did not like his style.
One of My Girls, (yes they were ‘mine’—this was My Bar, wasn’t it?) brought me a beer and said,
“Hey! Dat guy just walk in, he Na-bee Seal.”
“Yes Honey. I know him.”
“He yor frien?”
“Nope. He is trouble, and thanks for the beer.”
Still holding my pool cue, I walked over to Pain.
“Hey Pain!” I said. “How’s it hangin’?”
“Hey Ya. Uh… don’t I know you from somewhere? Oh yeah; Buds. Back in ’86.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Class one forty. You were my roommate for a spell, until you got kicked out for smacking my other roommate upside the head.”
“Yeah he was an idiot.”
“Don’t think so. He was my Friend.”
“What was yer name? Mark… something or other… Mark..um…?”
“Yeah, that’s right: Marcom.”
“You rocked out didn’t ya?”
“Yeah, I rocked out. Got hurt. Apparently you made it. In SEALs.”
“Yeah, I didn’t rock out.”
“Good for you.”
“Wanna beer?”
“No Pain, I do not. What I want is for you to take your ass outta here. You see, this bar is for ‘Black Shoe Sailors’—Fleet Sailors. This is MY bar, and we don’t really want all you prima-donnas hangin’ out here. This is a private bar—my bar—So… mosey on on.”
“I go where I please. Fuck you!”
“Excuse me, but this ain’t your kind of place. This place is not big enuff to house your Navy SEAL ego; I suggest you amble on down to The California Club on Magsaysay. They have high ceilings and lots of bar girls. You will be welcomed there.”
“You’re pissing me off.”
By this point, I had reversed my grip on the pool cue, and turned it into a baseball bat. Matt came up to my shoulder and whispered,
“Lance, don’t do it.”
I had forty pounds on Pain. I could take him without the pool stick.
Mama-San, ever astute, came up to me and said,
“Sailor Man, you may need to sit down.”
I said, “Mama-San, Not until this asshole leaves.”
She said, “Okay, but you gonna fix the furniture.”
Standing two heads high over him, I turned back to Pain, “You need to leave Son.”
“Maybe I will check out that California Club after all.” He said. And left.
The Jar Heads on the other side of the bar applauded. One said,
“Great job! Squiddy! That guy is an asshole. Seen him around town.”
“Thanks!” I said. Then yelled, “Hey! Mama-San! Bring me another beer! I just saw my life flash in front of me!” (Not really. I fear no man, but it makes for good prose, eh?)
Pain was actually a good guy. But an asshole. Certainly I can relate, being same.
Huh?? Read This: Is this moi, me? (Or why not me? Who Else?)
I had to see if the world was round.
The Judds, or as Peanut called them, “The Jug Heads”–no point in arguing with him over semantics.
Why-Not Nona Lie On Me Naomi?
Why Not Me?
Why Not?
Still Thursday, eh?
and yeah: I edit as I go…
****
Picking up from the last half-chapter…
Matt, Rogers, and I were in Viva Young. I had been smitten.
But the ‘Smite –her’ was elusive, so Matt and I retired to the pool tables. Me hoping to fleece him outta some beer money. He hoping for good conversation and Lance Good Wolf-Ticket talk.
We both got what we wanted, until…
Until Pain walked in.
Pain (his real name) was my roommate back when I was in BUD/s Class 140. Pain was a pain in the ass. He was a tow-head boy, weighing in at about 150. All attitude. Bad attitude. He reminded me of Peanut, without the good to outweigh the bad. I did not like his style.
One of My Girls, (yes they were ‘mine’—this was My Bar, wasn’t it?) brought me a beer and said,
“Hey! Dat guy just walk in, he Na-bee Seal.”
“Yes Honey. I know him.”
“He yor frien?”
“Nope. He is trouble, and thanks for the beer.”
Still holding my pool cue, I walked over to Pain.
“Hey Pain!” I said. “How’s it hangin’?”
“Hey Ya. Uh… don’t I know you from somewhere? Oh yeah; Buds. Back in ’86.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Class one forty. You were my roommate for a spell, until you got kicked out for smacking my other roommate upside the head.”
“Yeah he was an idiot.”
“Don’t think so. He was my Friend.”
“What was yer name? Mark… something or other… Mark..um…?”
“Yeah, that’s right: Marcom.”
“You rocked out didn’t ya?”
“Yeah, I rocked out. Got hurt. Apparently you made it. In SEALs.”
“Yeah, I didn’t rock out.”
“Good for you.”
“Wanna beer?”
“No Pain, I do not. What I want is for you to take your ass outta here. You see, this bar is for ‘Black Shoe Sailors’—Fleet Sailors. This is MY bar, and we don’t really want all you prima-donnas hangin’ out here. This is a private bar—my bar—So… mosey on on.”
“I go where I please. Fuck you!”
“Excuse me, but this ain’t your kind of place. This place is not big enuff to house your Navy SEAL ego; I suggest you amble on down to The California Club on Magsaysay. They have high ceilings and lots of bar girls. You will be welcomed there.”
“You’re pissing me off.”
By this point, I had reversed my grip on the pool cue, and turned it into a baseball bat. Matt came up to my shoulder and whispered,
“Lance, don’t do it.”
I had forty pounds on Pain. I could take him without the pool stick.
Mama-San, ever astute, came up to me and said,
“Sailor Man, you may need to sit down.”
I said, “Mama-San, Not until this asshole leaves.”
She said, “Okay, but you gonna fix the furniture.”
Standing two heads high over him, I turned back to Pain, “You need to leave Son.”
“Maybe I will check out that California Club after all.” He said. And left.
The Jar Heads on the other side of the bar applauded. One said,
“Great job! Squiddy! That guy is an asshole. Seen him around town.”
“Thanks!” I said. Then yelled, “Hey! Mama-San! Bring me a beer! I just saw my life flash in front of me!” (Not really. I fear no man, but it makes for good prose, eh?)
Pain was actually a good guy. But an asshole. Certainly I can relate, being same.
Still? Nav Mode? Bullshit! Always in Sailor Mode! “Sea–Somewhat of a Stream of Almost Consciousness” And Somewhat Of A “Confession” RE: My Previous Post. Don’t Grow Too ‘Comfortable’ With This Side Of Me Cannot Properly Edit This. (Thanks Wanker WordPress!) Sorry Y’all for Some Redundancies. I Can’t Fix STUPID–wORDpRESS
For ALL NAVIES–ALL SAILORS–ALL COUNTRIES—
Sailors of The World–All The World Over
SHARE A
Special
Brother-Hood
&
Sister-Hood
Race, Class,
Don’t Matter
****
“For Those In Peril On The Sea”
Well, there’s so many sinking now
You gotta keep thinking
You can make it through these waves
Acid, booze, and ass
Needles, guns, and grass
Lots of laughs
Joni
Blue songs are like tattoos
You know I’ve been to sea before
Crown and anchor me
Or let me sail away
Hey, blue, there is a song for you
Ink on a pin
Underneath the skin
An empty space to fill in
OK
Once
Maybe
Twice
I Have Been Scared At Sea
Ship Hits The Fan!
“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”
Creds: Gordon Lightfoot — Artist & Zeezy — Vid Share
******
The scariest thing to me…
Was at sea.
In the Indian Ocean, late one night
(That “IO” That Ho!)
Late at Night.
And the ship was tight.
And the waves were big.
Real big.
IO, She was angry.
And I was scared.
(No! HE Was scared).
I was never scared!
I was drinking coffee… And in between, walking on the bulkheads—all you sailors out there—can relate, and compare…
Never scared, but aside from my ‘coffee mates,” I knew, did, had done… the same drill… Too many times. (Fuckin’ Black-Shoe Navy!)
And if any of y’all find any of my ‘Sea Stories” unbelievable…The preamble to any good sea story is “This is a no-shitter…”
And then there was Melville…I’ve been around the world and once saw two white whales fuck.. I did. And there were dolphins… standing by… giggling.
I have been to Australia.
Twice
And it follows, I have been to sea before:
And here, (for you purists) is the original, stolen from “Hejira”:
My Thanks to
Laughs maniacally!
“I’m just a simple soldier Son.
“With one more Year to Go.””
Still in Sailor Mode! “Sea (Somewhat of a Stream of Almost Consciousness)”
The scariest thing to me…
Was at sea.
In the Indian Ocean, late one night
(That “IO” That Ho!)
Late at Night.
And the ship was tight.
And the waves were big.
Real big.
IO, She was angry.
And I was scared.
(No! HE Was scared).
I was never scared!
I was drinking coffee… And in between, walking on the bulkheads—all you sailors out there—can relate, and compare…
Never scared, but aside from my ‘coffee mates,” I knew, did, had done… the same drill… Too many times. (Fuckin’ Black-Shoe Navy!)
And if any of y’all find any of my ‘Sea Stories” unbelievable…The preamble to any good sea story is “This is a no-shitter…”
And then there was Melville…I’ve been around the world and once saw two white whales fuck.. I did. And there were dolphins… standing by… giggling.
I have been to Australia.
Twice
And it follows, I have been to sea before:
And here, (for you purists) is the original, stolen from “Hejira”:
My Thanks to
Laughs maniacally!
“I’m just a simple soldier Son.
“With one more Year to Go.””
Read This: is this moi me? (Or why not me? Who Else?)
I had to see if the world was round.
Still Thursday, eh?
and yeah: I edit as I go…
****
Picking up from the last half-chapter…
Matt, Rogers, and I were in Viva Young. I had been smitten.
But the ‘Smite –her’ was elusive, so Matt and I retired to the pool tables. Me hoping to fleece him outta some beer money. He hoping for good conversation and Lance Good Wolf-Ticket talk.
We both got what we wanted, until…
Until Pain walked in.
Pain (his real name) was my roommate back when I was in BUD/s Class 140. Pain was a pain in the ass. He was a tow-head boy, weighing in at about 150. All attitude. Bad attitude. He reminded me of Peanut, without the good to outweigh the bad. I did not like his style.
One of My Girls, (yes they were ‘mine’—this was My Bar, wasn’t it?) brought me a beer and said,
“Hey! Dat guy just walk in, he Na-bee Seal.”
“Yes Honey. I know him.”
“He yor frien?”
“Nope. He is trouble, and thanks for the beer.”
Still holding my pool cue, I walked over to Pain.
“Hey Pain!” I said. “How’s it hangin’?”
“Hey Ya. Uh… don’t I know you from somewhere? Oh yeah; Buds. Back in ’86.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Class one forty. You were my roommate for a spell, until you got kicked out for smacking my other roommate upside the head.”
“Yeah he was an idiot.”
“Don’t think so. He was my Friend.”
“What was yer name? Mark… something or other… Mark..um…?”
“Yeah, that’s right: Marcom.”
“You rocked out didn’t ya?”
“Yeah, I rocked out. Got hurt. Apparently you made it. In SEALs.”
“Yeah, I didn’t rock out.”
“Good for you.”
“Wanna beer?”
“No Pain, I do not. What I want is for you to take your ass outta here. You see, this bar is for ‘Black Shoe Sailors’—Fleet Sailors. This is MY bar, and we don’t really want all you prima-donnas hangin’ out here. This is a private bar—my bar—So… mosey on on.”
“I go where I please. Fuck you!”
“Excuse me, but this ain’t your kind of place. This place is not big enuff to house your Navy SEAL ego; I suggest you amble on down to The California Club on Magsaysay. They have high ceilings and lots of bar girls. You will be welcomed there.”
“You’re pissing me off.”
By this point, I had reversed my grip on the pool cue, and turned it into a baseball bat. Matt came up to my shoulder and whispered,
“Lance, don’t do it.”
I had forty pounds on Pain. I could take him without the pool stick.
Mama-San, ever astute, came up to me and said,
“Sailor Man, you may need to sit down.”
I said, “Mama-San, Not until this asshole leaves.”
She said, “Okay, but you gonna fix the furniture.”
Standing two heads high over him, I turned back to Pain, “You need to leave Son.”
“Maybe I will check out that California Club after all.” He said. And left.
The Jar Heads on the other side of the bar applauded. One said,
“Great job! Squiddy! That guy is an asshole. Seen him around town.”
“Thanks!” I said. Then yelled, “Hey! Mama-San! Bring me a beer! I just saw my life flash in front of me!” (Not really. I fear no man, but it makes for good prose, eh?)
Pain was actually a good guy. But an asshole. Certainly I can relate, being same.