WolfLarsen
07-05-2014, 02:10 PM
The following is a conventional short story I wrote back in 1992. It is part of a collection of short stories entitled I Have a Nightmare. All short stories were conventionally written. There are a few signs of my future interest in "innovation", but for the most part the work is conventional.
I feel conventional writing has its uses. But if I only wrote in a conventional manner for over 20 years I think I would die of boredom.
GOIN' FISHIN' OR SLAVERY AT SEA:
LIFE ON A COMMERCIAL FISHING VESSEL IN ALASKA
Phil sat on the toilet. Feeling the plane descending. Back fishing again. ****. Loathing. An unbearable knot tied around his stomach.
Teddy in earphones listened to the heavy metal music staring out the window. No, he didn't want this, nobody did, but **** it he had to do it. Everything inside felt awful and weighed down and heavy.
And you sit there skinny and hunched between two broad husky men. You're nervous all over. A 19 year old pup. One of the big men next to you turns to you and in his voice
"You're a greenhorn, aren't you?"
"How can you tell?"
he doesn't answer.
The plane lands on the edge of a mountain nearly hitting it BOOOM! but it doesn't.
And you are in the middle of in a daze a one room "airport"
"HEY GREENHORN, OVER HERE!"
and you crawl into a van jammed full bumping into someone's knee and nearly tripping over another
"SORRY!"
but you receive only a blank stare. The van leaves. It drives. Nobody says a word. On your tongue a million questions. But something on these faces tells you to keep your mouth shut.
On the bay side of the road rusting boat carcasses, discarded machinery, crab pots, nets, everything all strange and alien to your eye. On the other side mountain.
The van reaches the boat; big, beautiful, and blue. The others file in up the plankway swallowed by the boat engorged. You follow.
You get a bunk, unpack your ****, and go to the galley. You sit there. Guys talk. But not to you. Subjects include bigger catches in better years gone by, fast women, and cocaine. Guys that only after a month on land spent their entire settlement. But Maan (!) what a good time!
"I had so much fun, I probably got AIDS."
says one laughing. Like the others, his ample upper arms all tattoos.
And you have questions. You want to seem friendly, to make a good impression. You turn and introduce yourself to the guy next to you
"Hi! I'm -"
but he looks away saying nothing. The expression on his face irritance. Everyone ignoring you. Then someone asks the others, pointing at you
"Greenhorn?"
"Yeh, can't you tell!"
answers somebody for you.
Wasting no time (time is fish, fish is money) the boat immediately leaves port. You go out on deck. The mountain stands. Tall and insurmountable. Watching it the mountain the island withering into a speck on the horizon gradually lost amongst these waves.
Another man there stands. His eyes miserably distant. He is Phil. Phil watches the island from view vanish into the sea grayness before him. Everything only grayness, arctic northern grayness the waves, the sky, his soul.
Heading out to the fishing grounds the crew divided into two 12 hour shifts. In the factory below work is to be done. Setting up things, getting all ready.
The foreman gives you a task and leaves you with a power tool in your hands. You stand there you were explained nothing. You don't even know how to use this damned thing. Continuing standing there you feel stupid. Everybody else around you busy knowing what they're doing. Except you.
Bill is a puttin' da ****in' conveyor belt on da ****in' rollers. And for christ's sakes there's that ****in' slack greenhorn just standin' there doin' ****in' nothin'.
Bill: "Gonna have to teach that slack green how to work!"
and his work companion Teddy smiles.
Phil works changing the rusting bolts on the freezer plates. The ****ers had probably never been changed before. He works alongside of Jill. Yeh there are a few women workers on the boats, not many, just the ones that are tougher than hell. She is also pretty feminine smells nice and bending over her task has a nice butt.
Jill's mind is not on the task. I mean jeez boy you don't put your mind on tightening bolts stupid, just your hands. Ha-ha. Ohhh she is thinking of her boyfriend's ****. But his **** is miles away now and her pussy is feeling... well... very
" EAT!"
calls out the foreman and everyone drops what they're doing and is off most quickly to the galley. Except Teddy. He's practically running.
The food is good dude. (Cheap) steaks cooked as you like it just rightly baked potatoes lots of butter buttered mushrooms salad and desert too! Pig out! Man what a cook, takes this cheap **** the company sends us and turns it into real grub. This cook tall man as high as the ceiling built too weighs about 280 pounds. And he's kind of different man he's got these tattoos of men's names on his arms; "Steve, Richard, different, but hey, that's he's own thing.
Teddy eats twice as much as anyone else though no one says nothin' cause hey that's just Teddy. Not fat either, a skinny aggressive little mother ****er with broad shoulders too.
They reached the fishing grounds, and set the net
CLANG! BAANG A chuka BAANG! BOOM!! A CLANG chutla BAANG!!!
Phil recognized the sound. ****. Throwing him into some indescribable mood way beyond depression or despair. Fish there would be fish in a few more hours work would begin work. This fiddling with nuts and bolts a mere 12 hours a day was just relaxation.
Teddy was up on deck helpin out he's off shift but he wants to learn so there he is up on deck learning. Happy and young anxious and just dyin to learn. He wants to be a deckhand he wants he wants he wants you know.
The greenhorn (you) was down below in the factory when came that noise and what the hell is THAT (?)
CLANG! BAANG A chuka BAANG! BOOM!! A CLANG chutla BAANG!!!
scared ****less you are what's goin' on (?) is the boat sinking (?) you look around, everyone is calm, goin' about their tasks
"Hey! What's goin' on?"
somebody looks at you and laughs
"The boat is sinking!"
Later, Phil is sleeping. Dreaming... dreaming mountain plateaus warm and exotic where a dark young latina in white dances through wild flower gardens. Yellow and blue dashes of flower petal. Crushed pollen released under pink barefoot
rollmmmrllrolllmmm
three more months of gray. And he is up instantly. Knowing that sound. Hauling back. Fish. Time to work. Everything inside bashing around in complaining violence. He is putting on his tortured clothes
You the greenhorn hear the sound in your sleeping. The boat is sinking. And oh you can't wake up water filling up to your bunk and argggh oh it's so cold and you still can't get up oh! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE (!)
"Hey greenhorn get up!"
and they're trying to wake you to save you but you're so tired the sinking ship (!)
"Huh?"
you're waking
"Get up! Time to work."
and you're up and out of bed the floor is so cold oh! you're so nervous wondering what awaits you. Your eyes big. The change-up room tight and crowded with the crew wrestling for space putting on their raingear. Faces lost in dark expression. Suffering miserable eyes set of steel. Out to the deck everyone is to watch the catch
"Out to the side, Greenhorn!"
someone yells at you and you jump to the side with a sour poutful expression
"You see that cable over there?"
"Yes"
"If it breaks it will slice you in half."
"Oh."
- yes, greenhorns are to stay the **** out of the way -
Teddy is out there on deck helpin' out learnin' helpin' gettin' up that net and falling
PLOP!
whoops flat on his *** and he's up workin again. A hard worker but man is he clumsy.
And the net is up. Everyone is disappointed. It is only a 20 ton bag.
You stand there open eyed wow look! and amazed. A million zillion fish wow! flopping around there in the bag the net
"Hey greenhorn, c'mon!"
and you tag along behind all the others.
Walking into the factory you're oh wow! the site of all those fish; big, small, dark, colorful, weird looking all the bizarreist species the whole marine world right there in front of you. All mashed together suffocated in some march of death up the conveyor belt. And the smell yuk you wanna puke the smell of death. The music some heavy metal blasting distorted weirdness into your ears
"I think I'm going to get sick!"
and somebody who hears you turns around
"Oh yeah, well hey greenhorn watch this!"
and the guy grabs a heavy gross looking fish, it wiggles with life. And while looking you straight in the eye greenhorn he takes the fish and bites its head off.
you: "oh my god, that's disgusting!"
and then, still looking you straight in the eye, he begins chewing it
chomp! chomp! chomp!
with a big smile on his face... chewing slowly... as if he were sa-vour-ing it... chewing the fish head into gooey mush.
And then he spits it all out -
- sploooosh -
- at your feet.
guy: "Don't worry! In two weeks you'll be able to do the same thing. In one week if you ain't a pussy!"
Phil, watching it all while he worked, didn't find it gross in the least bit. An old hand he was used to it all. But something didn't feel right in his stomach... His stomach burned, burned with pain. The pain itself was nothing. Having worked on these fishing boats a while he was used to pain and he treated pain as an everyday experience to be ignored.
But Phil instinctively knew that this burning sensation in his stomach meant something. But he kept on working on his task in the factory anyway and this burning sensation kept getting worse and worse.
Teddy, not being on shift stayed above gettin the net ready for the next settin. But when would that be? It looked like they were steamin' to new grounds. Yeh, that last catch had been pretty ****ty.
Soon the deckhands were down in the galley cursing the last catch. They put on a porno flick -
"**** HER! **** HER!"
"Come on get on with it!"
- you can imagine how guys get after a couple of months at sea. All hardened macho and no pussy.
Soon the work in the factory was also over
"What a ****in' ****ty net"
- was the general consensus. Phil was relieved, the ball in his stomach untightening.
People sit around the galley awhile. Watching the porno flick - ****ey ****a **** **** suckey suck suck a squirt squirt. Various scenes and themes; a high class lady gets ****ed up the *** (!) to the uproaring approval of the crew -
"Yeah! Yeah!"
"**** that RICH *****!"
"**** that STUCK-UP slut IN THE ***!"
"FUK HER! FUK HER! CUM IN HER FACE!"
- and then some greenhorn complains -
"Pornography is degrading to women."
"oh shut up."
- youre told. Others just chat, having already seen the flick a dozen times.
Phil says nothin' listens to no one. Their world is not his. He just wants to finish his contract get his hands on that money and get the hell out of here. **** this **** you **** 'em **** everybody and everything north of the Rio Grande. After this back to the warmth, la salsa, his backpack and a new town every week and a different country every few months. Three more months of this. An eternity of slavery in hell before his return to Eden.
Teddy is about ready to go to bed. He's tired man. And he'll be on shift soon and one never knows when there might be fish maybe soon - so he better sleep. But Teddy notices that woman Jill it seems she keeps giving glances at him she's got that horny eye he can see and oh boy. His sleepy eyes debate his ****. Guess who wins.
Teddy nervous awkward as he sits near Jill. He wanders his way into her conversation looking for a positive sign is she interested? And yes - she gives it to him the sign the conversation the eyes and their chattering away at happily shallow subjects. And no he's not particularly fascinated with her personality or her eyes or anything else about her. Hell this ain't Hollywood you know this is the boat and he just wants to **** her.
Jill is considering Teddy hmmmmnmn... in her imagination she can feel him. She thinks it'd be nice... to have his thing inside of her... hmmmmnn His penis wasn't King Kong, but she was sure he knew what to do with it. And maybe he'd bend her over and do her right. She'd like that.
She starts comparing Teddy to her own boyfriend. Teddy's smiling lips she feels her legs moving moving against each other so... rhythmically you know. Oh Teddy... **** me.
A storm hits. Nice-sized swells. Rocking boat. And you are a greenhorn with a weezy dizzy head thin feeling. The boat and your stomach -
up...
and... down
side - to - side
up...
and... down
side - to - side
up ...and -
- you rush over to the toilet -
Bleeurrghhh - !
- and you're throwing up again! And the guys begin laughing so hard they're banging the table they're ha- ha- ha- out of breath they're ha ha ha falling out of their chairs they're ha ha ha ha and you're -
"Bleeurrghhh - !!
- and they start chanting -
"BARF! THROWUP! VOMIT! PUKE!
BARF! THROWUP! VOMIT! PUKE!
BARF! THROWUP! VOMIT! PUKE!"
bleeeurggheuurghhh!"
- and finally the last of the filthy blech (!) is wrenched from your stomach. You sit down... exhausted.
The storm gets worse. Nasty and vicious. Big humongous swells. Rocking boat like crazy. And listening in the lonely wheelhouse and a desperate voice comes over the sea radio -
MAY DAY! MAY DAY!
WE'RE SINKING! I REPEAT WE'RE - static
- goin' down - static - still more - word jumbled
Coast Guard: "This is the Coast Guard. Can you give
us your coordinates?"
- static - word jumbled - 3 - static.
CG: "You're not coming through clearly. Can you repeat your coordinates?"
- static -
CG: "Can you repeat your coordinates?"
- static -
CG: "This is the United States Coast Guard. We're not reading you. Could you please repeat your coordinates?"
- static -
If they had time to put on survival suits and get in a liferaft they might survive. Otherwise they'll die of hypothermia within a few hours.
Can you imagine what that must be like? One moment you're working or sleeping and the next moment you're thrown out into that cold black sea
Soon eventually came the fish again. Depression. Teddy worked. Off deck, back in the factory again. Cutting fish heads off, the weight of repetition, cutting fish heads off. His despair was everything. Repetition. Cutting fish heads off. Back in the factory again. Repetition. Cutting one fish head off after another. Damn, how he wants to get the **** out of this factory, to get out there - on deck.
Squishiness. Cold white ooziness of dead fish. Jill is packin' fish and that's what the stuff feels like through her gloves.
Time passes. A day. A few days. A week maybe. Perhaps an eternity. That's what it feels like to you
You greenhorn are trying to get it right. Hell, choppin' off fish heads seems so easy, right? But everyone keeps yellin' at you -
"****! DON'T ****IN' CUT THE MOTHER****IN' ROE!
CUT ABOVE THE MOTHER****IN' FINS DAMMIT!
AND GODDAMMIT HAUL *** FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!
- and oh you're getting pissed (!) you're losin' all that lower 48 sensitivity and you just wanna beat the **** oughta that guy. Your shoulders all hunched over in tension and you just wanna kill and you also just wanna lay in your bunk and quit.
Workin' sixteen hours a day every day and all you wanna do is quit. Calluses forming on your hands and all you wanna do is quit. These *******s screaming at you to do this! - do that! - work faster! - and all you wanna do is quit. This miserable disgusting dirty work working as fast as you can you get so tired. And not a moment passes where you don't think of your comfy soft bunk and you just wanna lay down and quit. And you think three more months of this WILL I MAKE IT! And you WANNA make it 'cause boy do you need that money you need that money so bad you're DESPERATE for that money. But still you feel so miserable that all you wanna do is quit.
Phil lays in his bunk. He has just been woken up. Dreading the beginning of his shift. Dreading another day of this. Hating the world. Hating life. Hating everything.
Waking up for yet another 16 1/2 hour day of slavery on a fishing boat in Alaska is worse than anything. Well, being a front line soldier woken up for another day of war - that would be worse. And for Phil right now the situation is desperate. Something has been burning - bubbling inside his stomach for some time now. He hasn't been able to eat. He had tried to force food down - EAT DAMMIT! - but...
He goes
downstairs...
Somebody: "Good morning!"
Phil: "**** you!"
- food is served. He tries to force himself to eat. EAT DAMMIT! EAT! But he can't. His stomach is all weird. Not able to eat, he feels himself weakening.
Within a half hour after beginning work Phil's head is all over the place. And then he throws up -
- it's some kind of yellow bile he's never seen before. what is it? And then he threw up again - and again even! He works on two more hours like this, fightingit! But it's no use, the yellow bile keeps coming -
blarooouu -
- up. This no more! He goes to the foreman -
"There's something wrong with me. I want to go to the wheelhouse."
"Go!"
- the foreman says it with an attitude like "Go you lazy slack," which pisses Phil off. The foreman had seen Phil puking up that yellow ****, ****in' *******.
Up in the wheelhouse Phil is standing there. He waits for the first mate to bother acknowledging his presence. And Phil is standing there a long time. Finally, the first mate decides to notice him -
"What's up?"
"I don't know. I can't eat. I'm throwing up some weird yellow gook. And my stomach is...
- pausing mid-sentence... he didn't want to say "hurting"... there was more to it than that ... and anyway pain is to be ignored on fishing boats -
"Your stomach is what?"
"Well - it - I feel this burning sensation like... like...
- oh Christ! he didn't know how to describe it.
- the first mate looking in his medical book -
"Yeah, well maybe you have - yes here it is, it sounds like you - you're developing an acute ulcer... Here - "
- he says reaching in the medical box -
" - take two of these and - hey! - aren't you supposed to be on shift right now?"
the first mate giving him a sligh eye a dash of accusing suspicion
"yes."
"Well, why aren't you working?"
At that moment the offshift is getting those last few moments of precious sleep. While asleep their hands often go through their work motions. Nightmaring about work. Working your *** off 16½ hours a day and then going to bed and nightmaring about your job until some ******* wakes you up and tells you it's time to go back to work again.
Woken up Jill lays there. She wants to die. Anything, Anything but go out into that factory again. And everybody else waking up at that moment feels exactly the same, or worse.
When Jill wakes up some of her fingers won't move yet. That's because in her job as a packer the fingers get frozen, stiff, and brittle. She also has tendonitis. And the beginnings of carpal-tunnel.
But, there's no time for melancholy. And any form of whining is not tolerated. Pity is non-existent. Getyerassup and go to work.
Phil's shift is on lunch right now. He ate toast and drank water. <Toast??" - how am I going to work 16½ hours a day on just toast??> But it was all his stomach could handle. Goddamn stomach! He felt defeated. Feeling like he wasn't going to make it.
No work no money no paradise. And then he'd be a prisoner stuck in some 9-5 job in the lower 48 leading a normal boring life. His stomach somersaulted.
Jill, and the others putting on their raingear. Getting ready for work. Damn, she'd just like to take her raingear and throw it overboard. Maybe she should marry Mr. Right Moneybags and live the easy life. No. Just as quickly as the thought ran through her mind she rejected it. Better the hard way. How about another cigarette? Yes anything anywhere - but back into that factory no.
Phil's shift must also return to work now, lunch break over. What a horrible feeling. For everybody. Phil lost in his own horrible wrenching dread. dread. putting on his boots. dread. putting on his raingear pants. dread. putting on his gloves. dread. dread. dread. dread.
And Jill and Phil the first ones out into the factory. The others procrastinating just those extra few seconds.
But for Teddy's shift it's -
LUNCHTIME!
-food food food! And Teddy is the first one in to eat.
But the food - it sucks! Remember there are two cooks - one the big dude that cooks good. But this meal was made by the foxy stacked broad that ****s the boat officers good but can't cook worth ****!
Teddy: "This cook can't cook!"
Voice: "Ain't that the truth!"
- and a couple of grunts and snorts of agreement. After 8 hours of hard work with 8 hours still to go you want some half-way decent grub. And if the **** is so nasty that you can't eat it you start getting PISSED OFF GODDAMMITT! You see reader, you, you're on land. You're not in Alaska, working 16½ hours a day every day on a fishing boat in the middle of the Bering Sea. So basically, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE DAMMIT! And sometimes, when you're out there YOU GET PISSED OFF GODDAMMIT I MEAN REALLY PISSED OFF!
And Teddy hurriedly makes himself some sandwiches hurry hurry hurry (!) not much time (!) eat eat shove the **** down your throat hurry up! And before he knows it he's puttin' on his raingear returning to work goddammit! Filing into the factory Teddy and all the other darkexpressioned faces looked particularly savage.
You (greenhorn) are back chopping fish heads off. Not five minutes pass before -
"You ****IN SLACK *** GREENHORN, HAUL *** YOU ****IN WORTHLESS!
- and you just want to punch the mother****er -
You: "**** YOU TOO YOU SKINNY OVERGROWN RUNT!"
2nd person:"HEY GREENHORN, SHUT THE **** UP AND GET BACK TO WORK!"
3rd person: "YEAH LESS YAP YAP GREENHORN AND MORE WORK WORK, YOU SLACK PIECE OF ****!"
You: "HEY! - IT'S BILL'S FAULT, TELL HIM TO LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE!"
4th person: "SHUTUP AND GET BACK TO WORK,
GREENHORN!"
- they're all screaming at you in chorus unison. It's overwhelming.
And then you start looking at the fire axe on the wall. Looking at that axe like you've never looked at an axe before. Violent blood-drenched images going through your mind. Things you never even thought yourself capable of thinking.
Considering your working and living conditions and the people screaming at you all day and the long hours and the chronic sleep deprivation it's no wonder you're turning into a savage.
Teddy. He feels a tap on the shoulder. Teddy turnin around and startled with hope. It's the deck boss -
Deckboss: "On deck, come."
- Teddy looks to the foreman. The foreman nods O.K. Teddy following the deckboss with a big smile wrapped around his face.
Yes! There are two gaping holes in the net. They need his help alright!
Teddy working his *** off, showing that he's got it man because he wants to be a deckhand he wants to get the hell out of that factory!
But one of the deckhands comes over and squints over Teddy's work -
Deckhand: "You're not doing it right!"
- and he takes the net from Teddy showing him how to do it right. Damn! Teddy all eyes watching the deckhand with all the might and concentration that he could muster;
"Now let's see you do it now."
- and this moment is everything. Teddy knows if he doesn't do it right - right back in the factory he will go. And there he will stay. Hope tension effort concentration into mending that net right oh god am I doing it right (?)... Teddy feeling the deckhand's shadow watching him, watching him over his shoulder... The next words making him or breaking him.
deckhand: "You'll be all right."
- and the deckhand pats him reassuringly on the shoulder - yes! - Teddy glowing inside yes soon (hope) out of the damn factory(!) **** that **** now working working mending mending that net everybody all trying to fix that net as soon as possible the sooner the net back in the water the more fish the more money and there ain't nothin on earth more greedier than a commercial fisherman.
Finally the net is fixed - zinjanthropus! - but can't stop no rest now - hop hop! - wrapping them coils around the net hammering in the thing ma jogs - whadya call them (?) he'd have to ask - ah workin in the open air - wheh! cold and fresh his body his lungs breathing it all in - oh yeah! Out of that factory oh yes! And then just realizing that he's been cold and shivering this whole time his body wet and unprotected from the elements. But who cares? No time to change clothes before no time to change now. Just toughen it man shivering in the dark working. Snow falling. And Teddy's spirits rising. And the net going down -
"CLU - CHINK BOOM CLUNK! BANG!
You. The foreman walks over to you. Nervousness up traveling your spine.
"Go gut cod."
- you go over to the cod guttin slough -
"I was told to gut cod. But I've never done it before."
"Well, here's what you do. You grab the big mother****in' cod like this - and then you thrust your thumb through to the very end and RIP 'da ****in guts out like this -"
- and the guts plop out all nice and clean and all. Easy, no problem. Until you start trying to do it. You're bumbling - fumbling the fish slipping through your hands and the guts won't come out and you're thinking this has got to be the most disgusting job in the world. You're pullin and yankin on the ****ers but 'da guts just don't come out dammit -
" - C'MON FASTER GREENHORN"
- the guy at the beheading machine yells and the other guy who has to run the gutted cod through the skinner -
"MORE COD! MORE COD!"
- and a half dozen trimmers at the end of the line echoing him in chorus screaming -
"MORE COD! HAUL ***! MORE COD!"
- and then Bill starts yelling from the end of the factory-
"HAUL *** ****IN' GREENHORN PIECE OF ****! YOUR MOTHER'S A ****IN' WHORE! YOU'RE A DICKLESS LITTLE BASTARD! YOU'RE A WEAK FAGGOTY-ASSED LITTLE PUSS. YOU'RE A -"
- and you're working as fast as you can trying to do to those cod guts what you'd like to do to Bill's face. But your hands - dammit! - you just can't get it - your unfamiliar hands all clumsy - damn! damn! - you're trying you're trying the cod guts dark and yellow splattering all over your face and into your eyes - argh it stings - onto your lips. It tastes acidey -
Machine operator: "PULL OUT THE ****IN COD GUTS LIKE YOU WANNA KILL! JUST RIP THE ****ERS OUT!"
- and so you try a more aggressive approach a different mentality if you will. KILL(!) RIP(!) RIP THOSE MOTHER****IN COD GUTS OUT you're screaming inside at yourself RIP! RIP! KILL! KILL! ****IN *****! *******! RIP! RIP! You're not the Greenhorn you're an ANIMAL imprisoned on a catcher-processor. RIP KILL RIP! Guttin' a hell of a lot faster and better guttin them mother****in' cod a whole frightening new you. RIP! RIP! KILL! KILL!.
You: "Where's the fish?"
Machine operator: "No more fish, clean up."
You: "Huh?"
- no fish you don't know no meanin of no fish workin' day after day 16½ hours a day every day and now... no fish? huh?
Teddy. Back down in the factory helping clean-up. So HUNGRY man. Thinking of a delicious chicken sandwich as he washed sliced scraps of fish guts off the machine the cheese the buttered toast he could taste it right now yummy yummy peeling off mutilated fish skin off the machine god he couldn't wait to eat.
Phil relieved relieved seeing the fish run out. Clean up. Phil is tired, worn out, and worn down. Escaping into a remoter part of the factory ostensibly to pick dead fish off the floor but actually to hide. To hide, sit down, and do nothing. It's a very rare moment indeed when you can sit on your *** and do nothing. It's something to be savored.
Cleanup over everyone sitting down - aaahhh! in the galley. Teddy next to Jill. The two make light conversation. It's their lustful eyes that do most the talkin. He wants to ask her to his bunk. Yes or no? But it's not that easy.
Phil is eating! Happy! Happy cause he's eating. Food = strength = work = money = returning to paradise! But he knows this is just the beginning, that this is a struggle, that he needs to gather his former health and strength back. Because otherwise he won't make it.
The bad cook complains -
"You're eating up all the english muffins!"
- but Phil says nothing, he just ignores her. Which is the best way of saying "Shut up!"
There are so many people like her, incapable of anything but normal everyday thoughts.
Having the time finally now Phil looking in the mirror... shock! His body his shoulders... withered. It hurt to see that! The ulcer was taking its toll, making him skinnier... weaker.
You, greenhorn. Conversation around you. You being human feeling the need to socialize to talk to someone... you venture a comment. Silence. Everyone stares blankly at you a moment... And then everyone resumes their conversations. You don't exist.
And the galley slowly empties as tired each and every one off drifts la da da dee off to his bunk to ahhh! rest. Oh (!) how good it feels. To rest. The boat sleeps.
Except Teddy and Jill but not so loud sssh! as Jill doesn't want people to know that Teddy's porkin' the **** out of her. She's so afraid everyone in the room will hear. And OF COURSE everybody in the room hears so what?
and you greenhorn-reader lay there as they **** in the bunk next to yours. And you're feeling hopeless, lonely, rotten, empty, horny, and discontented. 'Cause Teddy's gettin laid and you're not. All you've got is your poor little weenie in your right hand. Or do you use your left, which is it greenhorn?
Phil sleeps. He dreams of twisted alleyways of colonial cobble-walk that go which way and there. People friendly the surrounding mountains embracing arms. And the USA so far far away. Yes! He laughs in his sleep.
Two days pass. No fish. Phil sleeps. He eats (a lot). He relaxes. And he drinks lots of that faggoty herbal tea with a squish of lemon. No he wasn't. He's gaining his former strength back. But not quite.
There was fish again. After some rest now people were in a better mood. And guys start throwing fish at each other what the ****. Especially at you greenhorn. You're workin' along guttin' cod
BOING
and a fish bounces off your head. You turn around, but all you see are men working. So you turn around back to your work. And Teddy (behind you) grabs another piece of fish puts it on the edge of his knife
fling
BOING
and Teddy's instantly looking down into his work with as serious an expression as he can muster while you're turning around again. But all you see are men working. So you turn back to your work again GRRR! and Teddy and all the other guys silently laughing
fling
BOING
"GODDAM IT! WHO THE HELL IS HITTING ME WITH FISH?!"
and at that very moment the foreman just happens to be walking by
FOREMAN: "HEY! STOP YELLING AND GET BACK TO WORK!"
and the guys all silently laughing their heads off. Hell working 16½ hours a day you've got to relieve yourself some way
fling
BOING!
"GODDAMMIT IT! FOR THE LAST TIME, WHO THE **** IS HITTING ME WITH FISH!"
ha ha ha
Greenhorn you're getting better faster and working harder yes you're learning how to work to HAUL ***. Your back, your hands, your speech all harden. Pain and discomfort you no longer shirk from. I hurt, I'm tired I'm wet I'm cold and SO WHAT? Immune. Hard steel monster you're becoming.
"A hard steel monster me?" asks Mr. Reader-greenhorn yes you you sensitive landlubber pussy you. Remember (!) you're not just reading a book you're working on a fishing boat you slack.
You're right now ripping out slimy assed cod guts when
bam-BAM-bam-BAM-BAM:
CRAAAAASH!!
BAAANG!
SMAAAAASH!
SCREEE-E-E-E-E-A-A-AAAM !!
SCREAMS ScrEEAAchINGs of pain PAIN!
Everyone stops. A moment. Silent terror.
"What happened?"
In case-up (a part of the factory) a man is buried under a mountain of heavy fallen trays.
The man is pulled out from underneath.
His face is a bloody mess. A couple of his teeth have been knocked out.
He cannot move his leg. Broken maybe. Who knows.
The foreman thinks only of the lost production one less worker. The injured man is led away to his bunk, a discarded piece of machinery.
And the foreman walks out into the factory
"Phil go help case up."
<Why me?>
is what Phil is thinking but he says nothing. On fishing boats you protest nothing. And you do as you're told. Case up, the most dangerous job in the factory. And the most physically demanding. Selected Phil was because he was on the foreman's ****list.
But Phil was better stronger feeling (most) of his strength back now as he helped the two case up workers restack the frozen trays. Some had human blood on them.
"Help us break freezer no. 3"
"Yeh"
and its a whirlwind motion one guy knocking out grabbing the trays from out the freezer (brrr!) handing them to Phil who
BAM!
bashes the mother****in pans against the ****in wall (this knocks the frozen fish out) and the third guy jumpin around stacking the trays stackin the frozen fish each guy rushing to keep up with the others. Speed, brute physical aggression, and a love for pain.
And when they finish breakin the freezer its down in the cargo hold Phil goes. Its 40 below down there and the fish packages come flyin down a chute
flauurBANG!
hitting the floor Phil running grabbing carrying the fish package and stacking it
flauurBANG!
and running over to pick up still another one that just came down again grabbing carrying stacking
flaurBANG!
and comes another.
And Phil is happy. Why is he happy he should be pissed getting stuck in case up yes no he doesn't know why but he's so happy
flaurBANG!
it's escape from chopping fish heads off 16 1/2 hours chopping fish heads off. Motions of monotonous repetitions and now he's free from all that! His muscles aching his body pain is nirvana. Pain is beautiful. Pain muscles pain. Learn to love pain. Pain is love.
Of course, that's all bull****. But if you're going to be working case-up you have to psyche yourself up one way or another.
Teddy. Combi and all he starts getting cocky. He knows it, knows he needs to chill but he can't help it man this new found strength pushing pushing and he's just got to push against others. He starts bossin people, flipping people ****.
Cap (Samoan) is working hard on a machine when Teddy starts flippin him ****
WHAP!
a fish thrown hard into Teddy's face. It makes a big red bruise and a nice cut too
Teddy: "Why'd you do that for?"
and for answer the Samoan just looks at him and raises his fist. raises his fist as if to punch. They say an angry full-blooded Samoan is a dangerous thing. Teddy looks at that fist its BIG and Teddy makes a decision... Teddy apologizes,,, The Samoan smiles. It is a genuine Samoan smile, full of warmth and happiness. A tough people, but a very nice tough people. After that, Teddy chills, flips nobody no more ****. Smart.
Jill. her head heavy faint lightheadedness. Something heavy in her throat. That's how it starts. Then yuk! coughing up this yellow gook damn. She had that weird sickness that was going around the boat. With everybody so tired and overworked the boat is a perfect breeding ground for various illnesses. Most of them usually just got flu-bugs.
And quickly Sue across from Jill is coughing spitting up yellow gook and then the guys on the line chopping fish are coughing all over each other reaching the guys at the machines coughin hackin and within a few days the whole boat's a miserable self-contained flu-farm
and of course you too reader-greenhorn you get sick too. What the **** makes you think you're immune? And you feel like ****! And still workin 16 1/2 hours a day gutten' them mother****in cod. You just wanna lay down in your bunk. Or lay down right here in this cod gut slough you're so tired, sick, and what the **** do you care? But you don't lay down, you keep workin.
Phil. Been working case-up a week now. His muscles all pain. Hurt like ****in hell. Bashing open those trays is pain pain pain. Phil psyching himself up for it. Phil savoring the pain, to love this beautiful pain, to worship her high goddess Pain. That beautiful lovely word pain! he's repeating in some voice as he's bashing open them pans
"PAIN!" BAM!
"PAIN!" BAM!
"PAIN!" BAM!
and people began calling him "Animal." "Animal" became his nickname
"PAIN!" BAM!
"PAIN!" BAM!
you can imagine. This Phil dude who hardly talked to anyone working harder than a mother**** on some "weird" pain trip. No wonder they began calling him "The Animal"
"PAIN!" BAM!
"PAIN!" BAM!
and a tray whizzed back
POW!
hitting Phil right in the ****in mouth OOOWH (!) man that mother****er musta hurt. Kissed by the beautiful pain goddess
Co-worker: "Animal, are you alright?"
Animal says nothin. He checks his teeth with his finger. One of 'em seems quite a bit loose. But there's not much he can do about that now. So he gets right back workin'. Pain is to be ignored
BAM!
BAM!
Finishing up breaking the freezer Animal is now downstairs in the cargo hold grabbing running
flaurBANG!
and stowing away them fish packages. Spending half the day in a 40 below cargo hold all alone one's mind wanders quite a bit. "Weird" thoughts creeping, flashing, and drizzling in the brain. Your balls are all frozen so you don't think much about sex. Working mind wandering: childhood past lovers what is
flauurBANG!
the meaning of life? strawberry ice cream. Taking a **** at 3 A.M. on a deserted highway. McDonald's french fries. Love that chicken from Popeye's. Nuclear war;
flaur BANG!
and the meaning of life? If the boat started sinking would I have time to get out of this cargohold? And what would my corpse look like if scuba divers swam in here and found me? Am I infected with the AIDS virus? that spot on the wall looks like a mushroom cloud;
flaurBANG!
The day next the boat filled. Animal smiled in trance. You know, a happy kind of exhaustion. He felt proud. He had more than helped fill up that cargo hold. Busted out many of them pans too. A weird proud without meaning ****IN HELL YEAH!
But the foreman ruined his good mood by complimenting him. Animal paused and foot-in-mouthed over words to make appropriate conversation. The foreman frowned, animal had said something wrong. And the foreman walked away relief! And now Animal was fearing the foreman for that frown hating him for it.
Animal pissed. He didn't want nobody's friendship at sea, especially not from no fake-assed foreman. Just tell me what to do *******. Buddy-buddy bull**** with those in authority is just that BULL****!
Yes the boat's filled up everybody's happy hurrah! but no time to rest cleanup. Teddy's outside cleaning bird**** off the deck. You see all those birds? Yeah there are hundreds even thousands of 'em. They follow the boat and eat all the discarded wasted fish that goes out the **** shoot. And what comes after eating very good you guessed it ****ting! And what doesn't land on the deckhand's heads
SPLAT!
"GODDAMN IT!"
lands on deck. So Teddy'll probably be busy for a while.
Down below in the factory everybody's a cleanin everything spick and span. When its done not a spot. Lots of sparkle. But you ain't done yet you've just started so haul *** dammit! You're in some weird upside down hard to reach spot picking out the accumulated mooshed fish gook. You're getting all wet and cold. You're shivering. Goes great with your flu wet and cold. And only about 15 more hours of clean-up to go Mr. Greenhorn.
After another 15 hours everything is so clean that everybody's cleanin the clean. That's when comes the big waterfight. It begins when you're cleanin the ceiling all propped up high and vulnerable
"Hey look! A greenhorn!"
SPLOOOOOSH!
"HEY! GODDAMN IT!" "HAHA!" SPLOOOOOOOSH
"STOP THAT!" SPLOOOOSH "HAHA HA!"
¬
and you're all drenched swearing screamin and they're still spraying you (!) and everybody's grabbin a big mother****in hose sprayin everybody
"WATER FIGHT!"
big macho guys with big red hoses spraying white SPLOOOSH!
all over each other. The few females are all ducked to the side out of the way "scared."
Except Jill. She's got a big red hose go for it my blue collar sister! and she's out there with the MEN this AMAZON WOMAN FROM FARM COUNTRY this WOMAN WOMAN strong and fearless ha! ha! a proud equal
SPLOOOOSH!
and Animal, hell he's out there dancin in the middle of the waterfight, having a ball! Looking like a drenched human river.
Ha-ha!
Clean-up over. Jill. She sits down aaahh! how good it feels. A smile, she's happy. Her body,... still. Oh yes still and sitting aaahh! after a shift long 16 hours cleaning bending scrubbing scrapping and now aaaaaahh! She takes out a cigarette. ooooohh. cigarette. god, it's been so long and now... relax... sitting down with a cigarette. aaah... sweet aroma of tobacco. cigarette. Lights up. cigarette. oh that beautiful first puff.... aaaahhh...
This is perhaps one of the most happiest moments on a boat. The trip over. A short trip too. More money. Bigger pay check. Yes. And the chance to rest everyone goes off quickly to bed. For when they reach port offload. Offload, horrible word, that hardest part of the trip is about to begin. The boat zzzz sleeps.
Except Jill and Teddy
oh! oh! oh! oh!
blap! blap! blap!
everyone else in the room sleeping right through it all including the guy who snores and another who talks in his sleep about the universe
oh! oh! oh! oh!
snore snort snore snort
blap! blap! blap!
"oh wow! kind of interesting how the universe..."
snort snoooore snort snooooore
oh! oh! oh! oh!
"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up Teddy."
oh ****. Feels like he just fell asleep. And now wake up. Offload. No.
"Wake up Animal wake up."
OFFLOAD. ATTACK! Tension tension rising rising the moment he wakes up OFFLOAD ATTACK! Everything inside banging yearning ATTACK ATTACK!
"Greenhorn, wake up piece of ****!"
oh god please no. Oh you just want to lay there. Oh. Oh ... you've heard offload is so-o hard. oh you feel so-o tired.
"Jill, wake up time."
port bar booze drink. That's her first waking train of thought. But damn! offload's before all that let's get this offload OUT of the way. She's fast into her clothes and into the galley for "breakfast" yes offload now. And afterwards ah yes! bar drink and escape from the boat oh heavenly! if just only for one night.
Offload. The first part is a pain in the ***. The cargo hold is full to the brim with frozen fish boxes. There's not enough room for everybody to move around in so everybody's gettin in each other's way
SOMEBODY: "Get the **** out of my way!"
somebody else: "**** you!"
but as the hours weigh on the cargo hold empties a bit more. There's more room ya need more people and everybody's slaveing away.
offload. You're working in a 40 below (F) freezer-cargo hold. You're bending over and picking up heavy boxes and tossing them on a conveyor belt. You're workin fast I mean fast! and you break out in a sweat get drenched and then you start shivering. It's at least 10-20 times worse than it sounds, unless of course you're having a bad day.
One of the heavy frozen fish boxes is accidentally dropped on somebody's hand. A couple of fingers are broken or something
"Oops! I'm sorry!"
and he's of no use anymore. Fly him home.
After about 10 hours tempers start to flare. Somebody yells at you greenhorn to keep the boxes straight on the roller dammit and **** you're so tired you say O.K. But you keep on sending the boxes down crooked you're so tired without even realizing you're doing it
"GODDAMN IT! I SAID SEND THE BOXES DOWN STRAIGHT YOU MOTHER****IN' DUMBASS THEY'RE FALLING OFF THE ROLLER!"
YOU: "WELL **** YOU *******!!"
and the mother****er picks up a 30 pound box of fish and throws it at your head. You duck (of course) and it whizzes by your ears. You could've been KILLED! You're standing there stun-shocked ...
The next moment you want to go over and beat his ***. But you don't. 'Cause you don't want to get fired. And yes you actually consider killing that man.
And god are you tired. Your back hurts like a mother****. Your everythin hurts like a mother****. Delirious, your brain rotates around in dizzying circles. You don know how ya keep on goin oh lord but you do. Never realizing until now what you're capable of. What bottomless pit of will to endure and SUFFER lied buried and unused within you. Your untried soul.
Jill does more than her share. And she hates OFFLOAD god does she hate it. So far been working 12 hours. And it looks like another fourteen hours of this to go oh god! Hell, ya can't even see the back wall yet.
Bending over picking up and tossing those heavy boxes one after another .
And god she WANTS she NEEDS a cigarette. There are no breaks (except ½ hour for meals) no breaks not even to quick smoke a cigarette. Even when you go up to pee the foreman frowns at you. And taking a ****? only on your ½ hour mealbreak. But she doesn't have to pee or **** right now she's gotta have a cigarette cigarette cigarette but there's no breaks for a cigarette cigarette cigarette but she's gotta have a cigarette cigarette cigarette as her sturdy farm girl body bends over picking up and tossing the heavy frozen boxes one-after-another one-after-another only 14 more hours to go ...
I cut the rest of the story off because it's too long for here.
Copyright 1992 by Wolf Larsen
I feel conventional writing has its uses. But if I only wrote in a conventional manner for over 20 years I think I would die of boredom.
GOIN' FISHIN' OR SLAVERY AT SEA:
LIFE ON A COMMERCIAL FISHING VESSEL IN ALASKA
Phil sat on the toilet. Feeling the plane descending. Back fishing again. ****. Loathing. An unbearable knot tied around his stomach.
Teddy in earphones listened to the heavy metal music staring out the window. No, he didn't want this, nobody did, but **** it he had to do it. Everything inside felt awful and weighed down and heavy.
And you sit there skinny and hunched between two broad husky men. You're nervous all over. A 19 year old pup. One of the big men next to you turns to you and in his voice
"You're a greenhorn, aren't you?"
"How can you tell?"
he doesn't answer.
The plane lands on the edge of a mountain nearly hitting it BOOOM! but it doesn't.
And you are in the middle of in a daze a one room "airport"
"HEY GREENHORN, OVER HERE!"
and you crawl into a van jammed full bumping into someone's knee and nearly tripping over another
"SORRY!"
but you receive only a blank stare. The van leaves. It drives. Nobody says a word. On your tongue a million questions. But something on these faces tells you to keep your mouth shut.
On the bay side of the road rusting boat carcasses, discarded machinery, crab pots, nets, everything all strange and alien to your eye. On the other side mountain.
The van reaches the boat; big, beautiful, and blue. The others file in up the plankway swallowed by the boat engorged. You follow.
You get a bunk, unpack your ****, and go to the galley. You sit there. Guys talk. But not to you. Subjects include bigger catches in better years gone by, fast women, and cocaine. Guys that only after a month on land spent their entire settlement. But Maan (!) what a good time!
"I had so much fun, I probably got AIDS."
says one laughing. Like the others, his ample upper arms all tattoos.
And you have questions. You want to seem friendly, to make a good impression. You turn and introduce yourself to the guy next to you
"Hi! I'm -"
but he looks away saying nothing. The expression on his face irritance. Everyone ignoring you. Then someone asks the others, pointing at you
"Greenhorn?"
"Yeh, can't you tell!"
answers somebody for you.
Wasting no time (time is fish, fish is money) the boat immediately leaves port. You go out on deck. The mountain stands. Tall and insurmountable. Watching it the mountain the island withering into a speck on the horizon gradually lost amongst these waves.
Another man there stands. His eyes miserably distant. He is Phil. Phil watches the island from view vanish into the sea grayness before him. Everything only grayness, arctic northern grayness the waves, the sky, his soul.
Heading out to the fishing grounds the crew divided into two 12 hour shifts. In the factory below work is to be done. Setting up things, getting all ready.
The foreman gives you a task and leaves you with a power tool in your hands. You stand there you were explained nothing. You don't even know how to use this damned thing. Continuing standing there you feel stupid. Everybody else around you busy knowing what they're doing. Except you.
Bill is a puttin' da ****in' conveyor belt on da ****in' rollers. And for christ's sakes there's that ****in' slack greenhorn just standin' there doin' ****in' nothin'.
Bill: "Gonna have to teach that slack green how to work!"
and his work companion Teddy smiles.
Phil works changing the rusting bolts on the freezer plates. The ****ers had probably never been changed before. He works alongside of Jill. Yeh there are a few women workers on the boats, not many, just the ones that are tougher than hell. She is also pretty feminine smells nice and bending over her task has a nice butt.
Jill's mind is not on the task. I mean jeez boy you don't put your mind on tightening bolts stupid, just your hands. Ha-ha. Ohhh she is thinking of her boyfriend's ****. But his **** is miles away now and her pussy is feeling... well... very
" EAT!"
calls out the foreman and everyone drops what they're doing and is off most quickly to the galley. Except Teddy. He's practically running.
The food is good dude. (Cheap) steaks cooked as you like it just rightly baked potatoes lots of butter buttered mushrooms salad and desert too! Pig out! Man what a cook, takes this cheap **** the company sends us and turns it into real grub. This cook tall man as high as the ceiling built too weighs about 280 pounds. And he's kind of different man he's got these tattoos of men's names on his arms; "Steve, Richard, different, but hey, that's he's own thing.
Teddy eats twice as much as anyone else though no one says nothin' cause hey that's just Teddy. Not fat either, a skinny aggressive little mother ****er with broad shoulders too.
They reached the fishing grounds, and set the net
CLANG! BAANG A chuka BAANG! BOOM!! A CLANG chutla BAANG!!!
Phil recognized the sound. ****. Throwing him into some indescribable mood way beyond depression or despair. Fish there would be fish in a few more hours work would begin work. This fiddling with nuts and bolts a mere 12 hours a day was just relaxation.
Teddy was up on deck helpin out he's off shift but he wants to learn so there he is up on deck learning. Happy and young anxious and just dyin to learn. He wants to be a deckhand he wants he wants he wants you know.
The greenhorn (you) was down below in the factory when came that noise and what the hell is THAT (?)
CLANG! BAANG A chuka BAANG! BOOM!! A CLANG chutla BAANG!!!
scared ****less you are what's goin' on (?) is the boat sinking (?) you look around, everyone is calm, goin' about their tasks
"Hey! What's goin' on?"
somebody looks at you and laughs
"The boat is sinking!"
Later, Phil is sleeping. Dreaming... dreaming mountain plateaus warm and exotic where a dark young latina in white dances through wild flower gardens. Yellow and blue dashes of flower petal. Crushed pollen released under pink barefoot
rollmmmrllrolllmmm
three more months of gray. And he is up instantly. Knowing that sound. Hauling back. Fish. Time to work. Everything inside bashing around in complaining violence. He is putting on his tortured clothes
You the greenhorn hear the sound in your sleeping. The boat is sinking. And oh you can't wake up water filling up to your bunk and argggh oh it's so cold and you still can't get up oh! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE (!)
"Hey greenhorn get up!"
and they're trying to wake you to save you but you're so tired the sinking ship (!)
"Huh?"
you're waking
"Get up! Time to work."
and you're up and out of bed the floor is so cold oh! you're so nervous wondering what awaits you. Your eyes big. The change-up room tight and crowded with the crew wrestling for space putting on their raingear. Faces lost in dark expression. Suffering miserable eyes set of steel. Out to the deck everyone is to watch the catch
"Out to the side, Greenhorn!"
someone yells at you and you jump to the side with a sour poutful expression
"You see that cable over there?"
"Yes"
"If it breaks it will slice you in half."
"Oh."
- yes, greenhorns are to stay the **** out of the way -
Teddy is out there on deck helpin' out learnin' helpin' gettin' up that net and falling
PLOP!
whoops flat on his *** and he's up workin again. A hard worker but man is he clumsy.
And the net is up. Everyone is disappointed. It is only a 20 ton bag.
You stand there open eyed wow look! and amazed. A million zillion fish wow! flopping around there in the bag the net
"Hey greenhorn, c'mon!"
and you tag along behind all the others.
Walking into the factory you're oh wow! the site of all those fish; big, small, dark, colorful, weird looking all the bizarreist species the whole marine world right there in front of you. All mashed together suffocated in some march of death up the conveyor belt. And the smell yuk you wanna puke the smell of death. The music some heavy metal blasting distorted weirdness into your ears
"I think I'm going to get sick!"
and somebody who hears you turns around
"Oh yeah, well hey greenhorn watch this!"
and the guy grabs a heavy gross looking fish, it wiggles with life. And while looking you straight in the eye greenhorn he takes the fish and bites its head off.
you: "oh my god, that's disgusting!"
and then, still looking you straight in the eye, he begins chewing it
chomp! chomp! chomp!
with a big smile on his face... chewing slowly... as if he were sa-vour-ing it... chewing the fish head into gooey mush.
And then he spits it all out -
- sploooosh -
- at your feet.
guy: "Don't worry! In two weeks you'll be able to do the same thing. In one week if you ain't a pussy!"
Phil, watching it all while he worked, didn't find it gross in the least bit. An old hand he was used to it all. But something didn't feel right in his stomach... His stomach burned, burned with pain. The pain itself was nothing. Having worked on these fishing boats a while he was used to pain and he treated pain as an everyday experience to be ignored.
But Phil instinctively knew that this burning sensation in his stomach meant something. But he kept on working on his task in the factory anyway and this burning sensation kept getting worse and worse.
Teddy, not being on shift stayed above gettin the net ready for the next settin. But when would that be? It looked like they were steamin' to new grounds. Yeh, that last catch had been pretty ****ty.
Soon the deckhands were down in the galley cursing the last catch. They put on a porno flick -
"**** HER! **** HER!"
"Come on get on with it!"
- you can imagine how guys get after a couple of months at sea. All hardened macho and no pussy.
Soon the work in the factory was also over
"What a ****in' ****ty net"
- was the general consensus. Phil was relieved, the ball in his stomach untightening.
People sit around the galley awhile. Watching the porno flick - ****ey ****a **** **** suckey suck suck a squirt squirt. Various scenes and themes; a high class lady gets ****ed up the *** (!) to the uproaring approval of the crew -
"Yeah! Yeah!"
"**** that RICH *****!"
"**** that STUCK-UP slut IN THE ***!"
"FUK HER! FUK HER! CUM IN HER FACE!"
- and then some greenhorn complains -
"Pornography is degrading to women."
"oh shut up."
- youre told. Others just chat, having already seen the flick a dozen times.
Phil says nothin' listens to no one. Their world is not his. He just wants to finish his contract get his hands on that money and get the hell out of here. **** this **** you **** 'em **** everybody and everything north of the Rio Grande. After this back to the warmth, la salsa, his backpack and a new town every week and a different country every few months. Three more months of this. An eternity of slavery in hell before his return to Eden.
Teddy is about ready to go to bed. He's tired man. And he'll be on shift soon and one never knows when there might be fish maybe soon - so he better sleep. But Teddy notices that woman Jill it seems she keeps giving glances at him she's got that horny eye he can see and oh boy. His sleepy eyes debate his ****. Guess who wins.
Teddy nervous awkward as he sits near Jill. He wanders his way into her conversation looking for a positive sign is she interested? And yes - she gives it to him the sign the conversation the eyes and their chattering away at happily shallow subjects. And no he's not particularly fascinated with her personality or her eyes or anything else about her. Hell this ain't Hollywood you know this is the boat and he just wants to **** her.
Jill is considering Teddy hmmmmnmn... in her imagination she can feel him. She thinks it'd be nice... to have his thing inside of her... hmmmmnn His penis wasn't King Kong, but she was sure he knew what to do with it. And maybe he'd bend her over and do her right. She'd like that.
She starts comparing Teddy to her own boyfriend. Teddy's smiling lips she feels her legs moving moving against each other so... rhythmically you know. Oh Teddy... **** me.
A storm hits. Nice-sized swells. Rocking boat. And you are a greenhorn with a weezy dizzy head thin feeling. The boat and your stomach -
up...
and... down
side - to - side
up...
and... down
side - to - side
up ...and -
- you rush over to the toilet -
Bleeurrghhh - !
- and you're throwing up again! And the guys begin laughing so hard they're banging the table they're ha- ha- ha- out of breath they're ha ha ha falling out of their chairs they're ha ha ha ha and you're -
"Bleeurrghhh - !!
- and they start chanting -
"BARF! THROWUP! VOMIT! PUKE!
BARF! THROWUP! VOMIT! PUKE!
BARF! THROWUP! VOMIT! PUKE!"
bleeeurggheuurghhh!"
- and finally the last of the filthy blech (!) is wrenched from your stomach. You sit down... exhausted.
The storm gets worse. Nasty and vicious. Big humongous swells. Rocking boat like crazy. And listening in the lonely wheelhouse and a desperate voice comes over the sea radio -
MAY DAY! MAY DAY!
WE'RE SINKING! I REPEAT WE'RE - static
- goin' down - static - still more - word jumbled
Coast Guard: "This is the Coast Guard. Can you give
us your coordinates?"
- static - word jumbled - 3 - static.
CG: "You're not coming through clearly. Can you repeat your coordinates?"
- static -
CG: "Can you repeat your coordinates?"
- static -
CG: "This is the United States Coast Guard. We're not reading you. Could you please repeat your coordinates?"
- static -
If they had time to put on survival suits and get in a liferaft they might survive. Otherwise they'll die of hypothermia within a few hours.
Can you imagine what that must be like? One moment you're working or sleeping and the next moment you're thrown out into that cold black sea
Soon eventually came the fish again. Depression. Teddy worked. Off deck, back in the factory again. Cutting fish heads off, the weight of repetition, cutting fish heads off. His despair was everything. Repetition. Cutting fish heads off. Back in the factory again. Repetition. Cutting one fish head off after another. Damn, how he wants to get the **** out of this factory, to get out there - on deck.
Squishiness. Cold white ooziness of dead fish. Jill is packin' fish and that's what the stuff feels like through her gloves.
Time passes. A day. A few days. A week maybe. Perhaps an eternity. That's what it feels like to you
You greenhorn are trying to get it right. Hell, choppin' off fish heads seems so easy, right? But everyone keeps yellin' at you -
"****! DON'T ****IN' CUT THE MOTHER****IN' ROE!
CUT ABOVE THE MOTHER****IN' FINS DAMMIT!
AND GODDAMMIT HAUL *** FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!
- and oh you're getting pissed (!) you're losin' all that lower 48 sensitivity and you just wanna beat the **** oughta that guy. Your shoulders all hunched over in tension and you just wanna kill and you also just wanna lay in your bunk and quit.
Workin' sixteen hours a day every day and all you wanna do is quit. Calluses forming on your hands and all you wanna do is quit. These *******s screaming at you to do this! - do that! - work faster! - and all you wanna do is quit. This miserable disgusting dirty work working as fast as you can you get so tired. And not a moment passes where you don't think of your comfy soft bunk and you just wanna lay down and quit. And you think three more months of this WILL I MAKE IT! And you WANNA make it 'cause boy do you need that money you need that money so bad you're DESPERATE for that money. But still you feel so miserable that all you wanna do is quit.
Phil lays in his bunk. He has just been woken up. Dreading the beginning of his shift. Dreading another day of this. Hating the world. Hating life. Hating everything.
Waking up for yet another 16 1/2 hour day of slavery on a fishing boat in Alaska is worse than anything. Well, being a front line soldier woken up for another day of war - that would be worse. And for Phil right now the situation is desperate. Something has been burning - bubbling inside his stomach for some time now. He hasn't been able to eat. He had tried to force food down - EAT DAMMIT! - but...
He goes
downstairs...
Somebody: "Good morning!"
Phil: "**** you!"
- food is served. He tries to force himself to eat. EAT DAMMIT! EAT! But he can't. His stomach is all weird. Not able to eat, he feels himself weakening.
Within a half hour after beginning work Phil's head is all over the place. And then he throws up -
- it's some kind of yellow bile he's never seen before. what is it? And then he threw up again - and again even! He works on two more hours like this, fightingit! But it's no use, the yellow bile keeps coming -
blarooouu -
- up. This no more! He goes to the foreman -
"There's something wrong with me. I want to go to the wheelhouse."
"Go!"
- the foreman says it with an attitude like "Go you lazy slack," which pisses Phil off. The foreman had seen Phil puking up that yellow ****, ****in' *******.
Up in the wheelhouse Phil is standing there. He waits for the first mate to bother acknowledging his presence. And Phil is standing there a long time. Finally, the first mate decides to notice him -
"What's up?"
"I don't know. I can't eat. I'm throwing up some weird yellow gook. And my stomach is...
- pausing mid-sentence... he didn't want to say "hurting"... there was more to it than that ... and anyway pain is to be ignored on fishing boats -
"Your stomach is what?"
"Well - it - I feel this burning sensation like... like...
- oh Christ! he didn't know how to describe it.
- the first mate looking in his medical book -
"Yeah, well maybe you have - yes here it is, it sounds like you - you're developing an acute ulcer... Here - "
- he says reaching in the medical box -
" - take two of these and - hey! - aren't you supposed to be on shift right now?"
the first mate giving him a sligh eye a dash of accusing suspicion
"yes."
"Well, why aren't you working?"
At that moment the offshift is getting those last few moments of precious sleep. While asleep their hands often go through their work motions. Nightmaring about work. Working your *** off 16½ hours a day and then going to bed and nightmaring about your job until some ******* wakes you up and tells you it's time to go back to work again.
Woken up Jill lays there. She wants to die. Anything, Anything but go out into that factory again. And everybody else waking up at that moment feels exactly the same, or worse.
When Jill wakes up some of her fingers won't move yet. That's because in her job as a packer the fingers get frozen, stiff, and brittle. She also has tendonitis. And the beginnings of carpal-tunnel.
But, there's no time for melancholy. And any form of whining is not tolerated. Pity is non-existent. Getyerassup and go to work.
Phil's shift is on lunch right now. He ate toast and drank water. <Toast??" - how am I going to work 16½ hours a day on just toast??> But it was all his stomach could handle. Goddamn stomach! He felt defeated. Feeling like he wasn't going to make it.
No work no money no paradise. And then he'd be a prisoner stuck in some 9-5 job in the lower 48 leading a normal boring life. His stomach somersaulted.
Jill, and the others putting on their raingear. Getting ready for work. Damn, she'd just like to take her raingear and throw it overboard. Maybe she should marry Mr. Right Moneybags and live the easy life. No. Just as quickly as the thought ran through her mind she rejected it. Better the hard way. How about another cigarette? Yes anything anywhere - but back into that factory no.
Phil's shift must also return to work now, lunch break over. What a horrible feeling. For everybody. Phil lost in his own horrible wrenching dread. dread. putting on his boots. dread. putting on his raingear pants. dread. putting on his gloves. dread. dread. dread. dread.
And Jill and Phil the first ones out into the factory. The others procrastinating just those extra few seconds.
But for Teddy's shift it's -
LUNCHTIME!
-food food food! And Teddy is the first one in to eat.
But the food - it sucks! Remember there are two cooks - one the big dude that cooks good. But this meal was made by the foxy stacked broad that ****s the boat officers good but can't cook worth ****!
Teddy: "This cook can't cook!"
Voice: "Ain't that the truth!"
- and a couple of grunts and snorts of agreement. After 8 hours of hard work with 8 hours still to go you want some half-way decent grub. And if the **** is so nasty that you can't eat it you start getting PISSED OFF GODDAMMITT! You see reader, you, you're on land. You're not in Alaska, working 16½ hours a day every day on a fishing boat in the middle of the Bering Sea. So basically, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE DAMMIT! And sometimes, when you're out there YOU GET PISSED OFF GODDAMMIT I MEAN REALLY PISSED OFF!
And Teddy hurriedly makes himself some sandwiches hurry hurry hurry (!) not much time (!) eat eat shove the **** down your throat hurry up! And before he knows it he's puttin' on his raingear returning to work goddammit! Filing into the factory Teddy and all the other darkexpressioned faces looked particularly savage.
You (greenhorn) are back chopping fish heads off. Not five minutes pass before -
"You ****IN SLACK *** GREENHORN, HAUL *** YOU ****IN WORTHLESS!
- and you just want to punch the mother****er -
You: "**** YOU TOO YOU SKINNY OVERGROWN RUNT!"
2nd person:"HEY GREENHORN, SHUT THE **** UP AND GET BACK TO WORK!"
3rd person: "YEAH LESS YAP YAP GREENHORN AND MORE WORK WORK, YOU SLACK PIECE OF ****!"
You: "HEY! - IT'S BILL'S FAULT, TELL HIM TO LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE!"
4th person: "SHUTUP AND GET BACK TO WORK,
GREENHORN!"
- they're all screaming at you in chorus unison. It's overwhelming.
And then you start looking at the fire axe on the wall. Looking at that axe like you've never looked at an axe before. Violent blood-drenched images going through your mind. Things you never even thought yourself capable of thinking.
Considering your working and living conditions and the people screaming at you all day and the long hours and the chronic sleep deprivation it's no wonder you're turning into a savage.
Teddy. He feels a tap on the shoulder. Teddy turnin around and startled with hope. It's the deck boss -
Deckboss: "On deck, come."
- Teddy looks to the foreman. The foreman nods O.K. Teddy following the deckboss with a big smile wrapped around his face.
Yes! There are two gaping holes in the net. They need his help alright!
Teddy working his *** off, showing that he's got it man because he wants to be a deckhand he wants to get the hell out of that factory!
But one of the deckhands comes over and squints over Teddy's work -
Deckhand: "You're not doing it right!"
- and he takes the net from Teddy showing him how to do it right. Damn! Teddy all eyes watching the deckhand with all the might and concentration that he could muster;
"Now let's see you do it now."
- and this moment is everything. Teddy knows if he doesn't do it right - right back in the factory he will go. And there he will stay. Hope tension effort concentration into mending that net right oh god am I doing it right (?)... Teddy feeling the deckhand's shadow watching him, watching him over his shoulder... The next words making him or breaking him.
deckhand: "You'll be all right."
- and the deckhand pats him reassuringly on the shoulder - yes! - Teddy glowing inside yes soon (hope) out of the damn factory(!) **** that **** now working working mending mending that net everybody all trying to fix that net as soon as possible the sooner the net back in the water the more fish the more money and there ain't nothin on earth more greedier than a commercial fisherman.
Finally the net is fixed - zinjanthropus! - but can't stop no rest now - hop hop! - wrapping them coils around the net hammering in the thing ma jogs - whadya call them (?) he'd have to ask - ah workin in the open air - wheh! cold and fresh his body his lungs breathing it all in - oh yeah! Out of that factory oh yes! And then just realizing that he's been cold and shivering this whole time his body wet and unprotected from the elements. But who cares? No time to change clothes before no time to change now. Just toughen it man shivering in the dark working. Snow falling. And Teddy's spirits rising. And the net going down -
"CLU - CHINK BOOM CLUNK! BANG!
You. The foreman walks over to you. Nervousness up traveling your spine.
"Go gut cod."
- you go over to the cod guttin slough -
"I was told to gut cod. But I've never done it before."
"Well, here's what you do. You grab the big mother****in' cod like this - and then you thrust your thumb through to the very end and RIP 'da ****in guts out like this -"
- and the guts plop out all nice and clean and all. Easy, no problem. Until you start trying to do it. You're bumbling - fumbling the fish slipping through your hands and the guts won't come out and you're thinking this has got to be the most disgusting job in the world. You're pullin and yankin on the ****ers but 'da guts just don't come out dammit -
" - C'MON FASTER GREENHORN"
- the guy at the beheading machine yells and the other guy who has to run the gutted cod through the skinner -
"MORE COD! MORE COD!"
- and a half dozen trimmers at the end of the line echoing him in chorus screaming -
"MORE COD! HAUL ***! MORE COD!"
- and then Bill starts yelling from the end of the factory-
"HAUL *** ****IN' GREENHORN PIECE OF ****! YOUR MOTHER'S A ****IN' WHORE! YOU'RE A DICKLESS LITTLE BASTARD! YOU'RE A WEAK FAGGOTY-ASSED LITTLE PUSS. YOU'RE A -"
- and you're working as fast as you can trying to do to those cod guts what you'd like to do to Bill's face. But your hands - dammit! - you just can't get it - your unfamiliar hands all clumsy - damn! damn! - you're trying you're trying the cod guts dark and yellow splattering all over your face and into your eyes - argh it stings - onto your lips. It tastes acidey -
Machine operator: "PULL OUT THE ****IN COD GUTS LIKE YOU WANNA KILL! JUST RIP THE ****ERS OUT!"
- and so you try a more aggressive approach a different mentality if you will. KILL(!) RIP(!) RIP THOSE MOTHER****IN COD GUTS OUT you're screaming inside at yourself RIP! RIP! KILL! KILL! ****IN *****! *******! RIP! RIP! You're not the Greenhorn you're an ANIMAL imprisoned on a catcher-processor. RIP KILL RIP! Guttin' a hell of a lot faster and better guttin them mother****in' cod a whole frightening new you. RIP! RIP! KILL! KILL!.
You: "Where's the fish?"
Machine operator: "No more fish, clean up."
You: "Huh?"
- no fish you don't know no meanin of no fish workin' day after day 16½ hours a day every day and now... no fish? huh?
Teddy. Back down in the factory helping clean-up. So HUNGRY man. Thinking of a delicious chicken sandwich as he washed sliced scraps of fish guts off the machine the cheese the buttered toast he could taste it right now yummy yummy peeling off mutilated fish skin off the machine god he couldn't wait to eat.
Phil relieved relieved seeing the fish run out. Clean up. Phil is tired, worn out, and worn down. Escaping into a remoter part of the factory ostensibly to pick dead fish off the floor but actually to hide. To hide, sit down, and do nothing. It's a very rare moment indeed when you can sit on your *** and do nothing. It's something to be savored.
Cleanup over everyone sitting down - aaahhh! in the galley. Teddy next to Jill. The two make light conversation. It's their lustful eyes that do most the talkin. He wants to ask her to his bunk. Yes or no? But it's not that easy.
Phil is eating! Happy! Happy cause he's eating. Food = strength = work = money = returning to paradise! But he knows this is just the beginning, that this is a struggle, that he needs to gather his former health and strength back. Because otherwise he won't make it.
The bad cook complains -
"You're eating up all the english muffins!"
- but Phil says nothing, he just ignores her. Which is the best way of saying "Shut up!"
There are so many people like her, incapable of anything but normal everyday thoughts.
Having the time finally now Phil looking in the mirror... shock! His body his shoulders... withered. It hurt to see that! The ulcer was taking its toll, making him skinnier... weaker.
You, greenhorn. Conversation around you. You being human feeling the need to socialize to talk to someone... you venture a comment. Silence. Everyone stares blankly at you a moment... And then everyone resumes their conversations. You don't exist.
And the galley slowly empties as tired each and every one off drifts la da da dee off to his bunk to ahhh! rest. Oh (!) how good it feels. To rest. The boat sleeps.
Except Teddy and Jill but not so loud sssh! as Jill doesn't want people to know that Teddy's porkin' the **** out of her. She's so afraid everyone in the room will hear. And OF COURSE everybody in the room hears so what?
and you greenhorn-reader lay there as they **** in the bunk next to yours. And you're feeling hopeless, lonely, rotten, empty, horny, and discontented. 'Cause Teddy's gettin laid and you're not. All you've got is your poor little weenie in your right hand. Or do you use your left, which is it greenhorn?
Phil sleeps. He dreams of twisted alleyways of colonial cobble-walk that go which way and there. People friendly the surrounding mountains embracing arms. And the USA so far far away. Yes! He laughs in his sleep.
Two days pass. No fish. Phil sleeps. He eats (a lot). He relaxes. And he drinks lots of that faggoty herbal tea with a squish of lemon. No he wasn't. He's gaining his former strength back. But not quite.
There was fish again. After some rest now people were in a better mood. And guys start throwing fish at each other what the ****. Especially at you greenhorn. You're workin' along guttin' cod
BOING
and a fish bounces off your head. You turn around, but all you see are men working. So you turn around back to your work. And Teddy (behind you) grabs another piece of fish puts it on the edge of his knife
fling
BOING
and Teddy's instantly looking down into his work with as serious an expression as he can muster while you're turning around again. But all you see are men working. So you turn back to your work again GRRR! and Teddy and all the other guys silently laughing
fling
BOING
"GODDAM IT! WHO THE HELL IS HITTING ME WITH FISH?!"
and at that very moment the foreman just happens to be walking by
FOREMAN: "HEY! STOP YELLING AND GET BACK TO WORK!"
and the guys all silently laughing their heads off. Hell working 16½ hours a day you've got to relieve yourself some way
fling
BOING!
"GODDAMMIT IT! FOR THE LAST TIME, WHO THE **** IS HITTING ME WITH FISH!"
ha ha ha
Greenhorn you're getting better faster and working harder yes you're learning how to work to HAUL ***. Your back, your hands, your speech all harden. Pain and discomfort you no longer shirk from. I hurt, I'm tired I'm wet I'm cold and SO WHAT? Immune. Hard steel monster you're becoming.
"A hard steel monster me?" asks Mr. Reader-greenhorn yes you you sensitive landlubber pussy you. Remember (!) you're not just reading a book you're working on a fishing boat you slack.
You're right now ripping out slimy assed cod guts when
bam-BAM-bam-BAM-BAM:
CRAAAAASH!!
BAAANG!
SMAAAAASH!
SCREEE-E-E-E-E-A-A-AAAM !!
SCREAMS ScrEEAAchINGs of pain PAIN!
Everyone stops. A moment. Silent terror.
"What happened?"
In case-up (a part of the factory) a man is buried under a mountain of heavy fallen trays.
The man is pulled out from underneath.
His face is a bloody mess. A couple of his teeth have been knocked out.
He cannot move his leg. Broken maybe. Who knows.
The foreman thinks only of the lost production one less worker. The injured man is led away to his bunk, a discarded piece of machinery.
And the foreman walks out into the factory
"Phil go help case up."
<Why me?>
is what Phil is thinking but he says nothing. On fishing boats you protest nothing. And you do as you're told. Case up, the most dangerous job in the factory. And the most physically demanding. Selected Phil was because he was on the foreman's ****list.
But Phil was better stronger feeling (most) of his strength back now as he helped the two case up workers restack the frozen trays. Some had human blood on them.
"Help us break freezer no. 3"
"Yeh"
and its a whirlwind motion one guy knocking out grabbing the trays from out the freezer (brrr!) handing them to Phil who
BAM!
bashes the mother****in pans against the ****in wall (this knocks the frozen fish out) and the third guy jumpin around stacking the trays stackin the frozen fish each guy rushing to keep up with the others. Speed, brute physical aggression, and a love for pain.
And when they finish breakin the freezer its down in the cargo hold Phil goes. Its 40 below down there and the fish packages come flyin down a chute
flauurBANG!
hitting the floor Phil running grabbing carrying the fish package and stacking it
flauurBANG!
and running over to pick up still another one that just came down again grabbing carrying stacking
flaurBANG!
and comes another.
And Phil is happy. Why is he happy he should be pissed getting stuck in case up yes no he doesn't know why but he's so happy
flaurBANG!
it's escape from chopping fish heads off 16 1/2 hours chopping fish heads off. Motions of monotonous repetitions and now he's free from all that! His muscles aching his body pain is nirvana. Pain is beautiful. Pain muscles pain. Learn to love pain. Pain is love.
Of course, that's all bull****. But if you're going to be working case-up you have to psyche yourself up one way or another.
Teddy. Combi and all he starts getting cocky. He knows it, knows he needs to chill but he can't help it man this new found strength pushing pushing and he's just got to push against others. He starts bossin people, flipping people ****.
Cap (Samoan) is working hard on a machine when Teddy starts flippin him ****
WHAP!
a fish thrown hard into Teddy's face. It makes a big red bruise and a nice cut too
Teddy: "Why'd you do that for?"
and for answer the Samoan just looks at him and raises his fist. raises his fist as if to punch. They say an angry full-blooded Samoan is a dangerous thing. Teddy looks at that fist its BIG and Teddy makes a decision... Teddy apologizes,,, The Samoan smiles. It is a genuine Samoan smile, full of warmth and happiness. A tough people, but a very nice tough people. After that, Teddy chills, flips nobody no more ****. Smart.
Jill. her head heavy faint lightheadedness. Something heavy in her throat. That's how it starts. Then yuk! coughing up this yellow gook damn. She had that weird sickness that was going around the boat. With everybody so tired and overworked the boat is a perfect breeding ground for various illnesses. Most of them usually just got flu-bugs.
And quickly Sue across from Jill is coughing spitting up yellow gook and then the guys on the line chopping fish are coughing all over each other reaching the guys at the machines coughin hackin and within a few days the whole boat's a miserable self-contained flu-farm
and of course you too reader-greenhorn you get sick too. What the **** makes you think you're immune? And you feel like ****! And still workin 16 1/2 hours a day gutten' them mother****in cod. You just wanna lay down in your bunk. Or lay down right here in this cod gut slough you're so tired, sick, and what the **** do you care? But you don't lay down, you keep workin.
Phil. Been working case-up a week now. His muscles all pain. Hurt like ****in hell. Bashing open those trays is pain pain pain. Phil psyching himself up for it. Phil savoring the pain, to love this beautiful pain, to worship her high goddess Pain. That beautiful lovely word pain! he's repeating in some voice as he's bashing open them pans
"PAIN!" BAM!
"PAIN!" BAM!
"PAIN!" BAM!
and people began calling him "Animal." "Animal" became his nickname
"PAIN!" BAM!
"PAIN!" BAM!
you can imagine. This Phil dude who hardly talked to anyone working harder than a mother**** on some "weird" pain trip. No wonder they began calling him "The Animal"
"PAIN!" BAM!
"PAIN!" BAM!
and a tray whizzed back
POW!
hitting Phil right in the ****in mouth OOOWH (!) man that mother****er musta hurt. Kissed by the beautiful pain goddess
Co-worker: "Animal, are you alright?"
Animal says nothin. He checks his teeth with his finger. One of 'em seems quite a bit loose. But there's not much he can do about that now. So he gets right back workin'. Pain is to be ignored
BAM!
BAM!
Finishing up breaking the freezer Animal is now downstairs in the cargo hold grabbing running
flaurBANG!
and stowing away them fish packages. Spending half the day in a 40 below cargo hold all alone one's mind wanders quite a bit. "Weird" thoughts creeping, flashing, and drizzling in the brain. Your balls are all frozen so you don't think much about sex. Working mind wandering: childhood past lovers what is
flauurBANG!
the meaning of life? strawberry ice cream. Taking a **** at 3 A.M. on a deserted highway. McDonald's french fries. Love that chicken from Popeye's. Nuclear war;
flaur BANG!
and the meaning of life? If the boat started sinking would I have time to get out of this cargohold? And what would my corpse look like if scuba divers swam in here and found me? Am I infected with the AIDS virus? that spot on the wall looks like a mushroom cloud;
flaurBANG!
The day next the boat filled. Animal smiled in trance. You know, a happy kind of exhaustion. He felt proud. He had more than helped fill up that cargo hold. Busted out many of them pans too. A weird proud without meaning ****IN HELL YEAH!
But the foreman ruined his good mood by complimenting him. Animal paused and foot-in-mouthed over words to make appropriate conversation. The foreman frowned, animal had said something wrong. And the foreman walked away relief! And now Animal was fearing the foreman for that frown hating him for it.
Animal pissed. He didn't want nobody's friendship at sea, especially not from no fake-assed foreman. Just tell me what to do *******. Buddy-buddy bull**** with those in authority is just that BULL****!
Yes the boat's filled up everybody's happy hurrah! but no time to rest cleanup. Teddy's outside cleaning bird**** off the deck. You see all those birds? Yeah there are hundreds even thousands of 'em. They follow the boat and eat all the discarded wasted fish that goes out the **** shoot. And what comes after eating very good you guessed it ****ting! And what doesn't land on the deckhand's heads
SPLAT!
"GODDAMN IT!"
lands on deck. So Teddy'll probably be busy for a while.
Down below in the factory everybody's a cleanin everything spick and span. When its done not a spot. Lots of sparkle. But you ain't done yet you've just started so haul *** dammit! You're in some weird upside down hard to reach spot picking out the accumulated mooshed fish gook. You're getting all wet and cold. You're shivering. Goes great with your flu wet and cold. And only about 15 more hours of clean-up to go Mr. Greenhorn.
After another 15 hours everything is so clean that everybody's cleanin the clean. That's when comes the big waterfight. It begins when you're cleanin the ceiling all propped up high and vulnerable
"Hey look! A greenhorn!"
SPLOOOOOSH!
"HEY! GODDAMN IT!" "HAHA!" SPLOOOOOOOSH
"STOP THAT!" SPLOOOOSH "HAHA HA!"
¬
and you're all drenched swearing screamin and they're still spraying you (!) and everybody's grabbin a big mother****in hose sprayin everybody
"WATER FIGHT!"
big macho guys with big red hoses spraying white SPLOOOSH!
all over each other. The few females are all ducked to the side out of the way "scared."
Except Jill. She's got a big red hose go for it my blue collar sister! and she's out there with the MEN this AMAZON WOMAN FROM FARM COUNTRY this WOMAN WOMAN strong and fearless ha! ha! a proud equal
SPLOOOOSH!
and Animal, hell he's out there dancin in the middle of the waterfight, having a ball! Looking like a drenched human river.
Ha-ha!
Clean-up over. Jill. She sits down aaahh! how good it feels. A smile, she's happy. Her body,... still. Oh yes still and sitting aaahh! after a shift long 16 hours cleaning bending scrubbing scrapping and now aaaaaahh! She takes out a cigarette. ooooohh. cigarette. god, it's been so long and now... relax... sitting down with a cigarette. aaah... sweet aroma of tobacco. cigarette. Lights up. cigarette. oh that beautiful first puff.... aaaahhh...
This is perhaps one of the most happiest moments on a boat. The trip over. A short trip too. More money. Bigger pay check. Yes. And the chance to rest everyone goes off quickly to bed. For when they reach port offload. Offload, horrible word, that hardest part of the trip is about to begin. The boat zzzz sleeps.
Except Jill and Teddy
oh! oh! oh! oh!
blap! blap! blap!
everyone else in the room sleeping right through it all including the guy who snores and another who talks in his sleep about the universe
oh! oh! oh! oh!
snore snort snore snort
blap! blap! blap!
"oh wow! kind of interesting how the universe..."
snort snoooore snort snooooore
oh! oh! oh! oh!
"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up Teddy."
oh ****. Feels like he just fell asleep. And now wake up. Offload. No.
"Wake up Animal wake up."
OFFLOAD. ATTACK! Tension tension rising rising the moment he wakes up OFFLOAD ATTACK! Everything inside banging yearning ATTACK ATTACK!
"Greenhorn, wake up piece of ****!"
oh god please no. Oh you just want to lay there. Oh. Oh ... you've heard offload is so-o hard. oh you feel so-o tired.
"Jill, wake up time."
port bar booze drink. That's her first waking train of thought. But damn! offload's before all that let's get this offload OUT of the way. She's fast into her clothes and into the galley for "breakfast" yes offload now. And afterwards ah yes! bar drink and escape from the boat oh heavenly! if just only for one night.
Offload. The first part is a pain in the ***. The cargo hold is full to the brim with frozen fish boxes. There's not enough room for everybody to move around in so everybody's gettin in each other's way
SOMEBODY: "Get the **** out of my way!"
somebody else: "**** you!"
but as the hours weigh on the cargo hold empties a bit more. There's more room ya need more people and everybody's slaveing away.
offload. You're working in a 40 below (F) freezer-cargo hold. You're bending over and picking up heavy boxes and tossing them on a conveyor belt. You're workin fast I mean fast! and you break out in a sweat get drenched and then you start shivering. It's at least 10-20 times worse than it sounds, unless of course you're having a bad day.
One of the heavy frozen fish boxes is accidentally dropped on somebody's hand. A couple of fingers are broken or something
"Oops! I'm sorry!"
and he's of no use anymore. Fly him home.
After about 10 hours tempers start to flare. Somebody yells at you greenhorn to keep the boxes straight on the roller dammit and **** you're so tired you say O.K. But you keep on sending the boxes down crooked you're so tired without even realizing you're doing it
"GODDAMN IT! I SAID SEND THE BOXES DOWN STRAIGHT YOU MOTHER****IN' DUMBASS THEY'RE FALLING OFF THE ROLLER!"
YOU: "WELL **** YOU *******!!"
and the mother****er picks up a 30 pound box of fish and throws it at your head. You duck (of course) and it whizzes by your ears. You could've been KILLED! You're standing there stun-shocked ...
The next moment you want to go over and beat his ***. But you don't. 'Cause you don't want to get fired. And yes you actually consider killing that man.
And god are you tired. Your back hurts like a mother****. Your everythin hurts like a mother****. Delirious, your brain rotates around in dizzying circles. You don know how ya keep on goin oh lord but you do. Never realizing until now what you're capable of. What bottomless pit of will to endure and SUFFER lied buried and unused within you. Your untried soul.
Jill does more than her share. And she hates OFFLOAD god does she hate it. So far been working 12 hours. And it looks like another fourteen hours of this to go oh god! Hell, ya can't even see the back wall yet.
Bending over picking up and tossing those heavy boxes one after another .
And god she WANTS she NEEDS a cigarette. There are no breaks (except ½ hour for meals) no breaks not even to quick smoke a cigarette. Even when you go up to pee the foreman frowns at you. And taking a ****? only on your ½ hour mealbreak. But she doesn't have to pee or **** right now she's gotta have a cigarette cigarette cigarette but there's no breaks for a cigarette cigarette cigarette but she's gotta have a cigarette cigarette cigarette as her sturdy farm girl body bends over picking up and tossing the heavy frozen boxes one-after-another one-after-another only 14 more hours to go ...
I cut the rest of the story off because it's too long for here.
Copyright 1992 by Wolf Larsen