12 April 2012
517
R. Linda:
Note: To understand this story see the comment section with Claire Maria after the story of 11 April, 2012, Someone Cue the Godfather Music, Please.
I fell asleep and had the most ridiculous dream. I dreamt that I was aboard Captain Jaack's ship the Chipped Pearl and he was down in the galley ripping planks and boards apart. His braids were flying, his hat was somehow glued to his head, and his arms were busy heaving and ripping . . . sleeves rolled up, focused on the destruction.
"YAR, hey, hey, hey," I said coming down the stairs, "what be all this mess Captain Jaack?"
He looked up at me a board almost ripped up, the nails exposed as he pulled, teeth clenched in his exertion and with one grunt he had it out and threw it on the heap.
"Well, Mate, if you must know I am redecorating the galley. The first mate has been complaining and I thought to get it done before she, I mean he, returns from the candy store, I mean trip to pick up new rigging and surprise her, I mean him. First mate, and all." He muttered looking around at the destruction.
"OH, is that what this is?" I said magnanimously, "I'll roll up me sleeves and help you."
Between the two of us, we ripped the countertop of the galley clear off its supports and threw it in the heap. Wiping off our hands on our pantaloons we looked around.
"I think that was the last of it," Captain Jaack said, seemingly satisfied and not giving any indication he was dissatisfied that yours truly had shown up late for the tearing up of the place.
"SO what now?" I asked, hands on hips, feeling like I should give a laugh and a jolly 'har' shout out, but I contained myself to just look captain-ish.
He assumed the same wide-legged stance, hands on hips so I couldn't outdo him in the pirate attitude, but he said much to me chagrin, "HAR!" beating me to it, and then said, "Looks like a break is the thing," and he brought out two coconuts which he used a hammer to make a hole in the tops, and then pulled out a bottle of rum and poured it in the coconuts. Then he shook them up and handed me one, and he took the other. He said in way of a toast, "Har there Captain Gabe, let's drink to . . . uh . . . to . . ."
Well, it was clear he didn't know what we should drink to, so I scrunched up me pirate face and thought what could we drink to? Clearly not the mess at our feet, "OH I know," I said, "Here's to a new countertop!"
"Yar," he said and we drank our rum coconuts. He made a new batch and I think in my dream we were down below for several hours and several coconuts later, we realised we had a lot of work to do. We tossed the empty coconuts making that pile higher than the ripped-up boards and planks, and were about to engage in a rough and tumble game of rock, paper, scissors to see which one of us was going to haul the mess up the hatch, when this very small hairy foot hobbit came down the stairs. She, I mean he, was dressed in pink Crocs, fudge brown petal pushers (of which I did not know they came in that colour), what used to pass as a white shirt but had what looked like fudge stains on it, with a brown vest that matched the petal pushers and a bandanna around her, I mean his forehead in the colours of Mexico. This person came to the bottom of the steps as we both tried to stand in front of the pile of coconuts, which had to be nine feet high, trying to hide them. She, I mean he, sighed, shook her, I mean his head and began to pile up the boards and planks all in one arm, the other stacking them as she, I mean he, went. We were amazed as we watched her, I mean him totter up the stairs with this huge stack of broken wood. "The coconuts YOU do," she, I mean he said over her or his shoulder at us.
"You know Captain Gabe, I can't do THAT," Jaack pointed at the disappearing figure with all the wood. "Can you?"
"Nah," I said still amazed, thinking I knew someone who could do THAT, the same someone who moves rocks around her yard, boulders actually, but no, couldn't be. "Sooo . . . " I said turning around to look at all the coconuts and empty rum bottles.
"Aggh, just leave 'em', we'll tell the first mate they are a decoration." He said no longer concerned.
We looked around us, and I said aloud, "Well, now what? You have to get a new countertop, so we should start there."
"Problem is," Jaack said, one hand scratching his chin, the other on his hip, "I don't have another countertop."
"SO we need to get one," I said.
"And where are we to get one?" He asked looking at the ceiling, the floor, and what was left of the walls.
I puffed me cheeks out and blew them out with not a thought in me head.
"Well, wait a minute didn't you have some kitchen re-decorator on your blog? A Clarabelle?"
"Are you talking Howdy Doody? THAT clown?"
"Well, yes, I do believe I am." He said cock sure of it.
"Let me look," I said pulling out me trusty Smart Phone. I looked and sure enough alongside the name was the clown's picture. "HERE IT IS!" I shouted in triumph.
"Let me see that," Captain Jaack said, pulling it to his face. "Yes mate, that's the clown I meant."
I pulled the phone back from him and dialled. I don't know how I knew what to dial, but I dialled anyway and lo and behold, the phone rang. I heard it being picked up then I heard "Toot toot". It was the HORN, Clarabelle's horn! I had him . . . or her.
"So listen up Clarabelle, we need a countertop pronto at the Cracked Pearl."
"Chipped Pearl," Captain Jaack corrected.
"Chipped Pearl," I corrected meself, "can you come over here with one?"
"Toot, toot."
"I assume two toots means yes?" I said.
"Toot, toot."
"Okay then we'll be waiting," I said and turned the phone off. "All set," I said to Jaack.
"Yeah, but what kind of countertop is this clown bringing?" He asked slightly concerned.
"I'm sure it be a lovely butcher block all finished in marine poly, OR, a granite one, all polished up like glass, OR maybe marble."
"Yes, marble would be nice, as long as it isn't laminate or soapstone." Jaack mused.
It wasn't but five minutes passed by the ship's bell that we heard on deck the sound of . . . "TOOT TOOT!!!"
"He's, I mean she's here!" I said.
We both stood away from the stairs so the clown could get down and to our happy surprise she was carrying a long countertop piece wrapped in bubble wrap.
Jaack was beside himself that this was going to be perfect.
"That's the top?" He asked the clown.
"Toot, toot," was the answer.
"Okay," Jaack said excited, "let's get that baby un-bubbled er . . . wrapped and installed."
We all three grabbed hold and started cutting the bubble wrap away. But then something strange was unfolding out of that wrap.
"Wait . . . just stop!" Jaack said. "What in Davy Jones's locker is THIS?"
I looked at the partially unwrapped countertop, and it wasn't granite, and it wasn't butcher block, and it wasn't marble, it wasn't even soapstone or dread, laminate, it was CEMENT!
Jaack looked at Clarabelle with menace. "Why you clown! Why would I want a cement countertop?! This is not the garage, do you see any cars in here? NO, YOU DON'T," and as he went to put his grubby hands around the white grease-painted neck of the clown I grabbed him away before he could get a good choke hold and mess up the clown's greasepaint job.
"Hold on, there has to be a perfectly good explanation for this!" I shouted at him.
"Well, I can't think what that is!" Jaack shouted back at me.
Meanwhile, the clown sat there holding the cement slab like a shield against the captain's anger, not to forget the angst he must have been feeling when the first mate would return and see a CEMENT countertop.
"She'll, I mean he'll think I've had one coconut and rum too many!" Jaack shook his fist at the cowering clown.
The clown started squeezing her horn in some kind of code that we couldn't decipher, but just then the hobbit shouted down the hatch to us, "She's saying 'To save on cost she would like (to) paint over the existing laminate with a concrete paint that is used in garages. (Then she) would like to polyurethane it for a good shine!"
"OH . . . looks like she's already done that. THIS is laminate?" I said knocking on the slab and nodding slowly thinking I heard that explanation somewhere before. I looked around like it was hanging in the air or someplace I hadn't noticed before.
Even Captain Jaack looked puzzled as if he were listening to a voice inside his head that said those familiar words, and then he looked at the clown and said, "Laminate covered in concrete paint? This is what THIS is? Are you kidding me? IT'S FREAKING CEMENT!" The Captain said like he was swearing. Then it all changed to thunderous curses, the hobbit covering her, I mean his ears and the clown's jaw dropped open in abject horror that the captain would use that tone and those words. There was a single TOOT in response and it wasn't from the clown's horn but the clown's . . . never mind, you know what I mean.
The two of us got up quickly as I whispered to Jaack, "Can it be? Is that . . . is that Clarabelle OR . . . Norton Macthornton?"
"I dunno mate, but give me that air freshener you are inhaling I need a whiff, savvy?"
I tore the freshener in two and we both stood well back from the clown inhaling our respective pieces of Xtra Strength Pine Sol laced Pine Scent mixed with Glade Cherry blossom with a little slathering of salty dog. We had stepped slowly back to the wall because there was no place else to go, but forward toward the clown and the . . . stench.
"Cement doesn't absorb odours does it?" Jaack whispered to me behind his piece of scented cardboard tree.
"Uh . . . I don't think so." I motioned to the clown to set the countertop up.
Looking sheepish she did. She set it over the foundation and then pulled out of the box she had strapped to her midsection, a can of poly and a brush. With the two of us holding our fresheners to our noses, and the hobbit well up in the sea air watching from above, Clarabelle got the finish on and with a flourish took out some kind of buffer and started shining the concrete top up. When she was done, she looked over at us.
We inched towards the countertop realising by that time the air was clear. We stood looking it over, the clown putting her tools away.
"Looks like shiny cement," Captain Jaack observed.
"Yeah, shiny grey cement," I said touching it. "Feels smooth though, not like concrete."
"Looks like shiny cement," he said again.
"Yeah, it does," I said, "but it feels smooth."
Then the hobbit shouted down to us, "It looks like shiny cement from up here too."
"You aren't helping," I shouted up at her, I mean him. "Who is that?" I asked Jaack pointing at the hobbit.
"Oh her, I mean him, that's the first mate."
I was gobsmacked. "No, it isn't!" I declared.
"Quite, yes quite it is." He said still staring at the shiny grey cement.
"Are you sure? Because I've seen that face before with its face crammed into a platter of fudge." I said.
"Uh, quite certain, THAT is the first mate, mate." He persisted.
I looked up and so did Clarabelle.
"I hate clowns," the hobbit said to no one in particular.
Clarabelle cringed slightly and looked at me as if looking for help.
"Jaack, that first mate you keep referring to he, that is a she." I pointed out getting upset that he'd try to pull the wool over me eyes.
"I know, I just didn't want you to think me wife was me first mate." He said still staring at the countertop.
"WIFE?" I exploded, "THAT is NOT your wife, THAT is the notorious maker of all things having to do with fudge!"
He ignored me mumbling to himself over and over, "Looks like shiny cement." Yes, that's right the captain was losing it, his mind was going, it was quite obvious he was not liking that shiny cement and I feared for the life and limb of the clown. I gestured for the clown to make her getaway, but the hobbit barred the way. Yes, she was standing up there, petal pushers blowing in the sea breeze, her red hair sticking up and for an instant, I thought I saw her take a quick bite of what looked like a piece of chocolate walnut with sprinkles on top FUDGE!
It was then I lost it, I found meself scrambling up the hatchway fighting with the clown to get there first, to get me that piece of fudge before the hobbit had eaten it. But that clown was putting up a fight to get there first, until the hobbit at the very last minute stepped aside and the two of us shot out of the galley like we'd been rocketed out of a slingshot, the clown plummeting over the open gangway where the gangway should have been but no it was open water, and me, I was saved by the side of the gangway door the hobbit had thrown open at the last minute, shoving me backwards and down the hatch to where I landed on the captain who had sprawled himself over the shiny cement countertop banging on it cursing.
The hobbit stood above us looking down as we struggled to untangle beaded dreadlocks and our captain selves. I saw her slowly bring out that piece of fudge and take the last bite and it was GONE! I let out a terrible wail and THAT woke me up from a very bad dream of a drowned clown, a fudge-eating hobbit or first mate as the case was, a deranged captain, a shiny cement countertop and a lost air freshener!
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Note: To understand this story see the comment section with Claire Maria after the story of 11 April, 2012, Someone Cue the Godfather Music, Please.
I fell asleep and had the most ridiculous dream. I dreamt that I was aboard Captain Jaack's ship the Chipped Pearl and he was down in the galley ripping planks and boards apart. His braids were flying, his hat was somehow glued to his head, and his arms were busy heaving and ripping . . . sleeves rolled up, focused on the destruction.
"YAR, hey, hey, hey," I said coming down the stairs, "what be all this mess Captain Jaack?"
He looked up at me a board almost ripped up, the nails exposed as he pulled, teeth clenched in his exertion and with one grunt he had it out and threw it on the heap.
"Well, Mate, if you must know I am redecorating the galley. The first mate has been complaining and I thought to get it done before she, I mean he, returns from the candy store, I mean trip to pick up new rigging and surprise her, I mean him. First mate, and all." He muttered looking around at the destruction.
"OH, is that what this is?" I said magnanimously, "I'll roll up me sleeves and help you."
Between the two of us, we ripped the countertop of the galley clear off its supports and threw it in the heap. Wiping off our hands on our pantaloons we looked around.
"I think that was the last of it," Captain Jaack said, seemingly satisfied and not giving any indication he was dissatisfied that yours truly had shown up late for the tearing up of the place.
"SO what now?" I asked, hands on hips, feeling like I should give a laugh and a jolly 'har' shout out, but I contained myself to just look captain-ish.
He assumed the same wide-legged stance, hands on hips so I couldn't outdo him in the pirate attitude, but he said much to me chagrin, "HAR!" beating me to it, and then said, "Looks like a break is the thing," and he brought out two coconuts which he used a hammer to make a hole in the tops, and then pulled out a bottle of rum and poured it in the coconuts. Then he shook them up and handed me one, and he took the other. He said in way of a toast, "Har there Captain Gabe, let's drink to . . . uh . . . to . . ."
Well, it was clear he didn't know what we should drink to, so I scrunched up me pirate face and thought what could we drink to? Clearly not the mess at our feet, "OH I know," I said, "Here's to a new countertop!"
"Yar," he said and we drank our rum coconuts. He made a new batch and I think in my dream we were down below for several hours and several coconuts later, we realised we had a lot of work to do. We tossed the empty coconuts making that pile higher than the ripped-up boards and planks, and were about to engage in a rough and tumble game of rock, paper, scissors to see which one of us was going to haul the mess up the hatch, when this very small hairy foot hobbit came down the stairs. She, I mean he, was dressed in pink Crocs, fudge brown petal pushers (of which I did not know they came in that colour), what used to pass as a white shirt but had what looked like fudge stains on it, with a brown vest that matched the petal pushers and a bandanna around her, I mean his forehead in the colours of Mexico. This person came to the bottom of the steps as we both tried to stand in front of the pile of coconuts, which had to be nine feet high, trying to hide them. She, I mean he, sighed, shook her, I mean his head and began to pile up the boards and planks all in one arm, the other stacking them as she, I mean he, went. We were amazed as we watched her, I mean him totter up the stairs with this huge stack of broken wood. "The coconuts YOU do," she, I mean he said over her or his shoulder at us.
"You know Captain Gabe, I can't do THAT," Jaack pointed at the disappearing figure with all the wood. "Can you?"
"Nah," I said still amazed, thinking I knew someone who could do THAT, the same someone who moves rocks around her yard, boulders actually, but no, couldn't be. "Sooo . . . " I said turning around to look at all the coconuts and empty rum bottles.
"Aggh, just leave 'em', we'll tell the first mate they are a decoration." He said no longer concerned.
We looked around us, and I said aloud, "Well, now what? You have to get a new countertop, so we should start there."
"Problem is," Jaack said, one hand scratching his chin, the other on his hip, "I don't have another countertop."
"SO we need to get one," I said.
"And where are we to get one?" He asked looking at the ceiling, the floor, and what was left of the walls.
I puffed me cheeks out and blew them out with not a thought in me head.
"Well, wait a minute didn't you have some kitchen re-decorator on your blog? A Clarabelle?"
"Are you talking Howdy Doody? THAT clown?"
"Well, yes, I do believe I am." He said cock sure of it.
"Let me look," I said pulling out me trusty Smart Phone. I looked and sure enough alongside the name was the clown's picture. "HERE IT IS!" I shouted in triumph.
"Let me see that," Captain Jaack said, pulling it to his face. "Yes mate, that's the clown I meant."
I pulled the phone back from him and dialled. I don't know how I knew what to dial, but I dialled anyway and lo and behold, the phone rang. I heard it being picked up then I heard "Toot toot". It was the HORN, Clarabelle's horn! I had him . . . or her.
"So listen up Clarabelle, we need a countertop pronto at the Cracked Pearl."
"Chipped Pearl," Captain Jaack corrected.
"Chipped Pearl," I corrected meself, "can you come over here with one?"
"Toot, toot."
"I assume two toots means yes?" I said.
"Toot, toot."
"Okay then we'll be waiting," I said and turned the phone off. "All set," I said to Jaack.
"Yeah, but what kind of countertop is this clown bringing?" He asked slightly concerned.
"I'm sure it be a lovely butcher block all finished in marine poly, OR, a granite one, all polished up like glass, OR maybe marble."
"Yes, marble would be nice, as long as it isn't laminate or soapstone." Jaack mused.
It wasn't but five minutes passed by the ship's bell that we heard on deck the sound of . . . "TOOT TOOT!!!"
"He's, I mean she's here!" I said.
We both stood away from the stairs so the clown could get down and to our happy surprise she was carrying a long countertop piece wrapped in bubble wrap.
Jaack was beside himself that this was going to be perfect.
"That's the top?" He asked the clown.
"Toot, toot," was the answer.
"Okay," Jaack said excited, "let's get that baby un-bubbled er . . . wrapped and installed."
We all three grabbed hold and started cutting the bubble wrap away. But then something strange was unfolding out of that wrap.
"Wait . . . just stop!" Jaack said. "What in Davy Jones's locker is THIS?"
I looked at the partially unwrapped countertop, and it wasn't granite, and it wasn't butcher block, and it wasn't marble, it wasn't even soapstone or dread, laminate, it was CEMENT!
Jaack looked at Clarabelle with menace. "Why you clown! Why would I want a cement countertop?! This is not the garage, do you see any cars in here? NO, YOU DON'T," and as he went to put his grubby hands around the white grease-painted neck of the clown I grabbed him away before he could get a good choke hold and mess up the clown's greasepaint job.
"Hold on, there has to be a perfectly good explanation for this!" I shouted at him.
"Well, I can't think what that is!" Jaack shouted back at me.
Meanwhile, the clown sat there holding the cement slab like a shield against the captain's anger, not to forget the angst he must have been feeling when the first mate would return and see a CEMENT countertop.
"She'll, I mean he'll think I've had one coconut and rum too many!" Jaack shook his fist at the cowering clown.
The clown started squeezing her horn in some kind of code that we couldn't decipher, but just then the hobbit shouted down the hatch to us, "She's saying 'To save on cost she would like (to) paint over the existing laminate with a concrete paint that is used in garages. (Then she) would like to polyurethane it for a good shine!"
"OH . . . looks like she's already done that. THIS is laminate?" I said knocking on the slab and nodding slowly thinking I heard that explanation somewhere before. I looked around like it was hanging in the air or someplace I hadn't noticed before.
Even Captain Jaack looked puzzled as if he were listening to a voice inside his head that said those familiar words, and then he looked at the clown and said, "Laminate covered in concrete paint? This is what THIS is? Are you kidding me? IT'S FREAKING CEMENT!" The Captain said like he was swearing. Then it all changed to thunderous curses, the hobbit covering her, I mean his ears and the clown's jaw dropped open in abject horror that the captain would use that tone and those words. There was a single TOOT in response and it wasn't from the clown's horn but the clown's . . . never mind, you know what I mean.
The two of us got up quickly as I whispered to Jaack, "Can it be? Is that . . . is that Clarabelle OR . . . Norton Macthornton?"
"I dunno mate, but give me that air freshener you are inhaling I need a whiff, savvy?"
I tore the freshener in two and we both stood well back from the clown inhaling our respective pieces of Xtra Strength Pine Sol laced Pine Scent mixed with Glade Cherry blossom with a little slathering of salty dog. We had stepped slowly back to the wall because there was no place else to go, but forward toward the clown and the . . . stench.
"Cement doesn't absorb odours does it?" Jaack whispered to me behind his piece of scented cardboard tree.
"Uh . . . I don't think so." I motioned to the clown to set the countertop up.
Looking sheepish she did. She set it over the foundation and then pulled out of the box she had strapped to her midsection, a can of poly and a brush. With the two of us holding our fresheners to our noses, and the hobbit well up in the sea air watching from above, Clarabelle got the finish on and with a flourish took out some kind of buffer and started shining the concrete top up. When she was done, she looked over at us.
We inched towards the countertop realising by that time the air was clear. We stood looking it over, the clown putting her tools away.
"Looks like shiny cement," Captain Jaack observed.
"Yeah, shiny grey cement," I said touching it. "Feels smooth though, not like concrete."
"Looks like shiny cement," he said again.
"Yeah, it does," I said, "but it feels smooth."
Then the hobbit shouted down to us, "It looks like shiny cement from up here too."
"You aren't helping," I shouted up at her, I mean him. "Who is that?" I asked Jaack pointing at the hobbit.
"Oh her, I mean him, that's the first mate."
I was gobsmacked. "No, it isn't!" I declared.
"Quite, yes quite it is." He said still staring at the shiny grey cement.
"Are you sure? Because I've seen that face before with its face crammed into a platter of fudge." I said.
"Uh, quite certain, THAT is the first mate, mate." He persisted.
I looked up and so did Clarabelle.
"I hate clowns," the hobbit said to no one in particular.
Clarabelle cringed slightly and looked at me as if looking for help.
"Jaack, that first mate you keep referring to he, that is a she." I pointed out getting upset that he'd try to pull the wool over me eyes.
"I know, I just didn't want you to think me wife was me first mate." He said still staring at the countertop.
"WIFE?" I exploded, "THAT is NOT your wife, THAT is the notorious maker of all things having to do with fudge!"
He ignored me mumbling to himself over and over, "Looks like shiny cement." Yes, that's right the captain was losing it, his mind was going, it was quite obvious he was not liking that shiny cement and I feared for the life and limb of the clown. I gestured for the clown to make her getaway, but the hobbit barred the way. Yes, she was standing up there, petal pushers blowing in the sea breeze, her red hair sticking up and for an instant, I thought I saw her take a quick bite of what looked like a piece of chocolate walnut with sprinkles on top FUDGE!
It was then I lost it, I found meself scrambling up the hatchway fighting with the clown to get there first, to get me that piece of fudge before the hobbit had eaten it. But that clown was putting up a fight to get there first, until the hobbit at the very last minute stepped aside and the two of us shot out of the galley like we'd been rocketed out of a slingshot, the clown plummeting over the open gangway where the gangway should have been but no it was open water, and me, I was saved by the side of the gangway door the hobbit had thrown open at the last minute, shoving me backwards and down the hatch to where I landed on the captain who had sprawled himself over the shiny cement countertop banging on it cursing.
The hobbit stood above us looking down as we struggled to untangle beaded dreadlocks and our captain selves. I saw her slowly bring out that piece of fudge and take the last bite and it was GONE! I let out a terrible wail and THAT woke me up from a very bad dream of a drowned clown, a fudge-eating hobbit or first mate as the case was, a deranged captain, a shiny cement countertop and a lost air freshener!
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
