Written by Morse
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Friday, 20 March 2009

image for Below Decks Chapter 18: Who's that Tap,Tap Tapping On My Door? "Bollocks" quoth the Parrot, Evermore Buggerall Barbe: Blackburn Rover and a touch of

Recap: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen

"Doctor Nicholas!," commanded the Captain loudly from the Poop.

"Here, Captain, " as the overworked Proctologist appeared on deck buttoning up his tongue depressor, " what do you command?"

"It seems we have a valuable stowaway on board," said Morse, pointing to Bollocks the recently arrived talking parrot, "check him out immediately for any trace of Bird Flu. You know, look in all the usual places, check his temperature, I'm sure you prefer anally, and make sure is tongue is undamaged. This is a valuable talking bird that is going to take us to untold riches!"

"Aye,Captain," said the Doctor as he made to advance on the Parrot.

"Awast there you insurance swindling malpracticing scum, you're not going to bleed me and put sulfur plasters on my flying arse hole...I'm no fuckin' mucky ducky...no siree, Doc...you best treat me right, " this last with a squawk and a ruffle of tail feathers from Bollocks.

"Hold on a mite, Bollocks," the Captain's sonorous voice of reason intoned.
"Monkey, Monkey Woods you knuckle draggin ape...get your red arse up here!," the Captain again commanded.

Monkey shuffled forward, picking his arse as usual in excitement and showering little blobs of excrement along the Poop, "Bollocks, meet Monkey, Monkey, meet Bollocks, you are now arse hole shipmates."

"Bollocks, Monkey will be your feathered body guard, and you need to keep an eye on Monkey, and maybe teach him to talk some sense and have him stop wondering what the Crew really thinks of him!"

Monkey and Bollocks immediately bonded, and along with the Doc headed off to the infirmary to have the squawking oracle checked for any communicable diseases. Bollocks was already crunching crabs from Monkey's Balls, while Monkey was lovingly removing white lice from between Bollocks tail feathers.
Monkey was known to be partial to Chinese Food, but usually preferred his rice fried, but was know amongst the crew as having "no taste, really," according to Bilge Rat Mucky the Duck from Duxbury.

Morse surveyed the decks of the Buggerall. Despite all they had been through in the past few months, everything was still ship shape. The crew had been trained well and worked together like a well oiled machine, no doubt due to the Captain's willingness to look the other way every 48 hours when St. Patrick's name day was celebrated, much to the enjoyment of Bosun McCarthy, and the Cannibal Cook Skoob.

Just then, there was a flutter of wings at the mail box and an incoming Homing Albatross alighted out of breath, bearing dispatches from the Admiralty. The crew gathered excitedly as Morse unfolded the parchment from the tiny Feather-X tube, scanned the message, frowned and then farted.

The crew surmised this may not be good news!

"Men, here's the thing," said Morse seriously, "we're not just fighting the French anymore. It seems the Dutch, the Spanish, the Italians, the Barbary Coast Pirates and now Northern Ireland have all declared war against the Crown!"

The Crew muttered, and shuffled their feet in dismay. Taking on the French was nothing, as they had proven many times, but the rest of the known world was something else.

"We also have a change of mission, men. It seems the King, crazy limp eared sod, has struck a bargain with Hornblower and his fleet to be welcomed back under the Union Jack so that we may fight against these overwhelming odds!"

The crew cheered. Weakly. Actually no one wanted to take on Hornblower, the man was a literary legend with over 42 books chronicling his sea going victories and adventures, while the Buggerall had just barely managed to survive 17 ragged chapters.

"We've got 60 days leave coming, and I propose we takes those days, with the help of Bollocks, to seek the treasure of untold riches he told us about, before we go on to face our ultimate fate. If we find the treasure soon enough, there'll be time enough for shore leave before we join up with Hornblower and go into battle!"

With that the crew erupted in frenzied celebration, doing the hornpipe and singing along with the revitalized ship's band doing their rendition of the haunting island song, "Green Bird" which conjured up visions of exotic drinks, lusty wenches, and even a luau with fresh meat, vegetables, and gravy!

Monkey, Bollocks and Dr. Nicholas appeared back on deck and approached the Captain.

"How fares the bird, Doctor, " Morse anxiously asked.

"Fit as a feather, Captain, " Nicholas preened, no sign of any flu like symptoms, and just a minor case of hemorrhoids which we doused with my special potion!"

"Bollocks, with your help we're off for the treasure of the ill fated 'Dirty Swan', what course say you that we set?"

Bollocks, now safely ensconced on Monkey's shoulder squawked "South, Southeast, Captain, and let the sails fly...we're many a league away, but with a fair wind and a willing crew I see treasure piled high in the holds within a fortnight!"

"Skoob, a cracker for the Parrot, and some of those Snails you've been hoarding too...nothing too good for our bird!"

"Peno, "Morse called out to the ship's CPA and theivin' provsioner, "break out the good rum...no more of that Piss from Skoob's bladder!"

"And a good barbecue for all hands! Cook, Cook you Cannibal! Prepare that leg of lamb you've been savin' ! And don't be fucking denying it...that Blackburn Rover rack has been agin' nicely since we left port...save that Leed's United stringy mutton for the prisoners in the Brig!"

Skoob scowled, but then broke into a gap toothed grin as the good natured crew began to chant..."Skoob, Skoob....Blackburn Rover, Blackburn Rover!!!"

He nodded sheepishly, as he had just knocked off a good ewe below decks, and doffed his chef's hat to the crew. "All right you Wankers...stoke up the Barbe and get ready for a feast...Skoob is on fire and ready to put some special spices on our treat tonight..and some Manchester Union Toe Jam Glaze!"

"Bam, Bam...Skoob's our man, " the salivating crew chanted, as they went about their duties knowing that they were in for a treat at the evening mess.

It wasn't every night that Skoob brought out "BAM" his secret Meat Tenderizer
he used on only special occasions; the Captain's birthday, Dora Piebottom happily announcing her period (thankfully), when the crew had taken another prize ship, and the candlelit dinners for two he treasured with Earl Gray.

Just as things were starting to settle down, there was another fluttering at the ships airmail box and a star spangled Turkey Vulture arrived from the Colonies, with yet more news!

Morse, who had dual citizenship, kept in contact with both his countries, always alert to see which way the wind was blowing, and how he could best benefit his command and crew.

Again, Morse unrolled a rather long parchment from the mail suppository stuck up the Turkey Buzzard's arse, causing a huge fart and a sign of contentment from the 38 pound bird.

"Listen up men, " Morse commanded as he waited for Seaman Turse to set up his Teleprompter, always a bad sign indicating the Captain had a state of the ship announcement which was politically correct, but that may not be entirely truth, even though it was for their own good.

"First...Probational Seaman Phil....bad news Phil from the Governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, your parents Bruce and Kevin have been granted a divorce, and I got you in the settlement...you won't be going home after this cruise, but at least you won't be an orphan! Reverend Birbee, take charge of this poor lad till he regains his senses!"

"All right lads, Good News! John Paul Jones is joining up with us and Hornblower, and it seems we'll have a formidable fleet to take on the rest of the world!"

A spontaneous cheer broke out "Three Cheers for the Cousins..Hip, Hip....!"
as the crew again had reason to celebrate. Things were definitely looking up for the Buggerall.

"Now," Morse thought, "if I can just keep them sober and focused, we may have a chance to come out of this alive, rich, and ready to retire!"

"Pissgums," Morse shouted, and was rewarded with the tap, tap, tapping on the teak deck as the conjoined buggers limped over, Percival one inch short of a full peg leg, " get with the Bosun and decide who's going to set the new course. And Pissgums, put some fucking Air Jordon's or some Top Siders on those fucking stumps....that tapping shit is driving me fucking Bonkers!"

The twins knuckled there foreheads to the Captain as he turned away, and they were left to their own devices. The Evil Twins smiled serenely, farted joyously, and turned their attention to the job at hand while doing an Irish Step Dance with their unshod pegs in a good natured show of defiance!

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!
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