Sailing thhe Seven Seas of Rhye at the University of BBQ Cows
And now to plod out this tired course. Again.
The great Captain's blood thundered against his temples as he reached up with
his boathook and caught the mizzen mast, swinging around on the length of the
mighty rod which had saved him so many times before. Begging secretly for
forgiveness from his beloved Seabreeze as she listed heavily to port, he came
around and smashed boots-first through the cockpit glass into the cabin,
catching the treacherous Nero by surprise.
"Let her go, scum bag. Your days are up", said Jebbediah sternly.
"Not so fast, you piece of disease-infested bread rind," said Nero, plucking
at his handlebar moustache. "You've forgotten one thing. Look!"
And with that Captain Scurvy glanced quickly over to where Sandra stood, blood
running down her left cheek, Nero's gun pointed at her head.
"I have taken away everything you love, Scurvy!" Nero yelled, menacingly,
despite the harpoon which was firmly embedded in his groin. "Seabreeze is
sinking as we speak, and I will shoot your precious Sandra dead as a ducat
before I shuffle off this mortal coil!"
"You fiend!" shouted Jebbediah, his grip tightening on his boathook. "Let her
go!"
"Never!" Nero said, threateningly motioning the gun.
"Fine!" said Jebbediah, as he released the safety on his boathook and let the
CO2 canisters fire, allowing the tool to open to it's full 15 length in .02
seconds, decapitating the evil Nero and freeing Sandra from her bonds.
"I did it! I saved the day!", cried Jebbediah.
the sound: slap slap slap slap slap slap
"Oh, Captain Scurvy!", said Sandra, thankful. "You've saved me once again!"
still: slap slap slap slap slap
Jebbediah blushed as he cleaned off his boathook and allowed it to resume it's
normal size, wiping off the blood and gore slap slap slap slap slap
"What {slap slap} is that {slap} sound {slap slap slap}?"
Slap slap slap slap slap slap
I woke up to hear that slap slap slap sound emanating from somewhere in my
room. I knew what it was: it had to be water. Coming in from the window? I
checked. No. I jumped out of bed....and landed feet-first in some of the
coldest bilge-water you could ever imagine. Hitting a light, I saw insantly
what was the matter. A steady stream of water was dripping down out of the
ceiling.....onto my left computer speaker (and, subsequently, computer
monitor)....and onto the floor, where it had created a puddle. My room was
submerged.
We've been having some technical difficulties here at UConn lately. What
happened that night in my dorm was that somebody had damaged the urinal on the
3rd floor of my building.....which is the girls' floor and thus needs no
urinal, but has one anyway. The pipes burst, and my room got soaked. Of
course, the 3rd floor was completely flooded, drenched in two inches of
freezing cold urinal pipe water. Anything on the floor was destroyed.
Fortunately, my computer came out okay, so all I really lost was some faith in
my dorm and some sleep. However, waiting for my computer to dry is, I think,
a good excuse to explain why I haven't had a chance to write a whole lot in
the last couple of weeks.
Of course, the problems don't end there.
You're not allowed to have candles or halogen lamps at college. They start
fires. Don't keep them in your room. Nobody listens to this advice, but
you're not supposed to do it. Well, just the other night an unattended candle
apparently lit itself in somebody's room and started a fire which ultimately
caused $50,000 of damage and has sent an entire floor full of students to
other dorms. This has caused: panic.
Word came down from the administrators: immediate fire safety inspections on
all floors. Anything that can be considered a hazard must be dealt with
immediately.
So I see my Residential Administrator coming down the hall with a long stick.
I ask what's going on. He tells me it's a fire inspection. I ask if he'd
like to inspect my room while I happen to be in the dorm. He says "yes", but
I'd better dismantle the halogen lamp my roommate keeps in our room, and hide
all the candles that my roommate likes to hang on the wall, before the RA
inspects anything.
I'm glad to know I'm safe. Although this certainly explains alot.
And last night, as an encore to this whole wonderful existence, a ceiling tile
in my room fell during the night, weakened by the damage caused by the Rains
of Ranchipur on my ceiling. It's intended target, my left computer speaker,
was hit dead-on center. I have since removed the tarp I put up around my
computer after the flood, realizing that it will not be protected from such
things as falling ceiling tiles. Now, my computer is safely encased in a
solid 6 inch-thick wall of reinforced asbestos-lined carbon-carbon, which is
the same stuff they use to protect the space shuttle from re-entry friction.
And that, my friends, is a sham. So is this article.
"Keep the Sun outta yer Eyes, Act Natural, Life's an Adventure"
Now you all go home and pray that I think of something funny to write about
next month. You should also pray that I don't ruin it.
Hello, my friends, and welcome to another exciting issue of Captain Scurvy
Speaks. I got many complaint letters about my "controversial" Valentine's Day
article last month, so let's spend a little time talking about that first:
unless I specifically mention otherwise, what I put here is a joke. My
Valentine's Day tirade was simply a gross exaggeration of actual feelings I
sometimes have about that particular Hallmark holiday. However, I am pleased
to find that people not only actually read Captain Scurvy Speaks, but
sometimes even think about it as well. That impresses me, and I know it
shocks our editor-in-chief, Chris Guerette.
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