Written by Fergus McCarthy
Rating:

Share/Bookmark
Print this

Friday, 13 March 2009

image for Below Decks - Chapter 9 - Toast with real butter Flat pack Treasure Chest.

Recap: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

"Morning McCarthy"

"Good morning Captain Morse, great day for it sir."

"Indeed McCarthy indeed, good stiff breeze out, just what we need if we are to make Jamaica by Clitmas day. Carry on man." Captain Morse continued on his way, fresh urine dripped from his broad rimmed hat as he exchanged pleasantries with some and administered good sound bollockings to others wether they deserved them or not.

"Captains in a good mood today eh Fergus? I might ask him if he'll let me change the menu tonight whatdayafink? Spice it up a bit, I was thinking Mediterranean, Italian maybe. I've never cooked an Italian before, I reckon everyone would really enjoy that"

"I would" Fergus replied " nothing like a nice Italian Skoob"

"Not this one Ferg, right miserable fucker, done nothing but complain since he came aboard."

"Ah well. There you go, you cant have everything" said Fergus quietly.

"You er.... You seem a bit ..erm,, y'know? Not quite with us, not really in this world if you dont mind me saying McCarthy me ol Mick mucker." Skoob offered, inwardly swelling with pride at the way he had survived the 'M' alliteration task at the end of his line.

"Not in this world? What makes you say that?" Senior crew member McCarthy asked.

'Senior crew member." That was always funny, Senior meant that he'd been there so long that only the real addicts could remember when he hadn't been there,

Fergus paused........... Made a cup of tea and ate 3 slices of Toast with real butter on it, he refused to entertain the idea of imitation butter putting forward the not unreasonable argument that 'a real pair of tits beats artificial anyday'

Crunching happily on the wonderfully hot toast lovingly and lavishly layered with large lumps of Kerryygold butter he wondered where his love for alliteration had arisen.

'Alarming alacrity' That was probably it. One day.... He vowed, one day, he'd use it in a sentence that even Monkey Woods would be proud of....Oh yes!"

"Are you even listening to me Mardy arse?" snapped the vertically challenged 'Naked Chef'

Sorry Skoob you were saying just a minute agoWOWOWWOAH....... Fuckin Woah!!!!!!

'Appen!'

"Put your clothes back on! What are you doing? Stop that!!!"

The little Chef had stripped totally naked apart from a furry green pair of 'Denis Law' socks and a goldish chain that had over the years turned his chest an oxide green colour with a shape very similar to an ultrasound scan.

McCarthy had to admit he'd never seen anything like it before, in all his years at sea this was truly a first. Standing firmly to attention, hard as a rock and looking surprisingly bigger than he had ever given the little fella credit for was one of the most impressive weapons he'd ever seen.

It was granite monolith, a weapon he'd seen many times in the past dangled at unhygienically close quarters above his face when he lost the weekly "Smell the Skoob" competition. Men had thrown themselves overboard in the past saying that they'd rather take their chances 300 miles from land in shark infested waters with a fresh shaving cut than have Skoob dangle that thing over them again.

It was considered a badge of honour to have done 5 'Skoob Smells'. Fergus had survived nine, he didn't have to do it but Captain Morse had said that it would be good for morale and he'd have him lashed to the mainbrace if he didn't. Anything for a quiet life.

"Impressive innit?" said Skoob proudly. It always stands up like that, it hardly ever droops, it has to be really hot weather to make it slump a bit but even then it stays up enough to get the job done in a manner of speaking Mr McCarthy Sir"

"I had no idea Skoob"

"I know. It were me Grannys coat before me an she never washed it either, you can batter that coat with anything and it'll just slide off, saved my life manys a time I can tell you sir"

"The one in Dublin? The one who had 37 children? How was that possible? What about your Grandfather? What about the smell?" Fergus asked.

"Granny Skoob said she didn't mind the smell as long as Dandad had a wash at least once week"

"No no, I meant Dandad. Fuck! I mean your grandfather. How could he handle the stench long enough to do the dirty deed if that's not too personal a question?"

"Not at all Sir" Skoob obliged, "Dandad had do dose"

"No nose?"

"Thats right, lost it in a bitch fight at the hairdressers he used to work in"

Skoobs coat, hat and glasses stood on their own not more than a metre away from their owner unsupported by anything except 56 years of filth and dirt. Disgusting as it was Fergus had to concede that it was mightily impressive, the way it kept all the ships flies in the one area had always been a bonus. It was a coat a Green Party Leader could wear with pride whilst churning out statistics about how much of the planet he had saved by never washing the coat and not spraying the flies.

"It's a tribute to mother natures engineering department and a credit you. Your granny would be proud Skoob. Now put your clothes back on, I haven't had me brekkie roll yet and I'm fuckin starving."

"No bother. Just changing the air and giving it a bit of a sweep out, there must be nearly 40 coffee cups in there, I never realised I drink so much coffee. S'mazin innit?"

"I'm the same with penguins. Cant get enough"

It was only when he felt the hot rancid breath on both of his ears that he realised that he had forgotten the 15 second rule. He'd stayed still too long.

Buck and Pissgums were behind him................

Continue to chapter ten...

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

If you fancy trying your hand at comedy spoof news writing, click here to join!
Print this

Share/Bookmark

Go to top