MONTEGO BAY, JAMAICA—Late yesterday afternoon, amid high seas, Tortolan naval cruisers Vengeance and Thunder converged on the 64-foot fisherman Lemming, piloted by the outlaw Gus Openshaw, at 18° 32'N/ 78° 04' W.
When the Lemming ignored orders to be boarded as well as a warning shot across her bow, the naval cruisers fired two torpedoes apiece into her portside hull, creating "loud explosions followed by pillars of waters of biblical proportions," according to one onlooker.
Within five minutes, the 110-ton fisherman had disappeared beneath the surface. Neither Openshaw nor his crew were seen. According to Thunder Commander Geraldo Vegtalla, all of them are believed dead.
Thank all the saints and any friendly pagan gods besides, this was a clever stratagem by Gus to throw of pursuit by the Torolan Navy, who appear to be a rather effete bunch absolutely dripping in gold braid and extra lapels.
My dear good snuggs and nikola, the time for grief is not yet nigh.
However, the time for selling several hundredweight of fine tequila is at hand in celebration of Gus' DIY deliverance.
I apologize for my absence in the preceding days; there were pressing matters of business to attend to (ie., some new and creative bookkeeping in order to keep the local constabulary and zoning commission happy about the health spa plans).
However, that was quite a lovely obit in the Tortolan rag; I was nearly ready to frame it but will hold off in the hopes it shall never be needed.
Next order of business: if a very small but determined woman wanders in with another woman speaking an incomprehensible language loosely based on English, please extend all courtesies of the house... to the small woman only.
The very small woman may have any dish or tipple she likes. The larger woman may only have 2 pounds of worst-quality caviar, or 1 entire ostrich egg, scrambled dry. If she objects, please explain "No substitute-o, bellissima habibi." If she asks for a steak, you may comply, but please inform her that she must fetch the meat herself from the butchers'; we have a 55-pound side of beef waiting especially for her use.
Finally, if a handsome travel-worn Kiwi should drop by the Gentlemen's Club Room for a quiet drink, do not let the incomprehensible woman within 50 feet of him, as an order of protection is due to be posted shortly. He may be in need of a manly hanky, however. Try not to drool on him too much, dear nikola and snuggs, as he's a married man (but not dead).
7 comments:
dear miz b:
the bottles of the best tequila (with worm and without for the vegetarians) are open and flowin' copiously. it seems everyone is havin' a large time. as a matter of fact, i think i saw myrtle...or was it her huggy-feely-touchy sister, cat? anyways, i saw *one* of them doin' body shots in the corner with the mcfinster brothers. my, my, tequila does tend to unleash the inner beast and beastess in all of us; i do believe cyrus mcfinster is quite smitten with her. whichever one *she* is. but is just isn't. oh wait, that is *so* last clinton term.
that habibi honey came in, and seemed most irate that i wou...erm, couldn't serve her an ostriche omlette with a steak, mid-rare. i told her my pet ostriche was runnin' lose in the back garden, and she'd have to retreive an egg her own bellisima self. i sent chad the cabana boy out with her, they're still not back yet. *ponders*
the hunky aussie did indeed wander in, and i believe nikola escorted him to the smokin' room, handed him an embroidered hankie and left him at the door. we are honorable girls and *do* practice the karmic law of relationships #34, to wit: thou shalt not poach on another woman's salmon, lest your own large fish leave you to swim upstream and spawn with some big-haired bimbo from puxatawnee.
and speakin' of hunky men, i do hope hankules can fit me in for a tootsie rub at closin' time. *never* break in your new manolo blahnicks behind the bar on *two-fer-one* nite.
to celebrate the safe return of *gus and our boys* we are havin' a nag champtha lighting and rejoycement ceremony in the back garden at dawn. the ritual does not require that anyone show up sky clad, so wear your bathrobes and your fuzzy slippers, grab your latte mugs and join us.
snuggs
You know the old saying - "Nag champtha at dawn - innkeepers yawn." However, I shall do my best to attend in robe and slippers, mug in hand. Perhaps with a shot of something extra just to keep my shpirits up.
Lovely party, loverly tequila.
I do hope my little slippers won't disturb the prayers of thanksgiving... they're Godzilla ones which roar most impressively on every other step. They were a gift from a dear client, a rather dotty fellow named Fukushima-san. He was a bit of a film buff, and terribly homesick; I used to keep a special bottle of sake behind the bar for him. He left the slippers behind as a parting gift.
Or perhaps they were a comment on the quality of service. Dear me, I hope not, but in any case, that was before your time, dear gels.
Dear Miz B,
Fine party here. Please inform snuggs that she hasn't had enough of that tequila as both me and my sister cat are here. Cat is on one of those supervised visits from the home so shh..... don't let anyone know she is here. About those Mcfinster brothers. They are cousins about 3 times removed, so I guess you could say they are "kissing cousins". Anyway we are not doing anything no one else wouldn't do for their family.
That is keeping the morale high. You should know howver there is only one spot in my heart for my true love and it isn't the mcfinster brothers.
myrtle
Oh Miz B,
I am so happy you liked the obit. Not a word from Gus on that one so I am guessing he did not like being presumed dead. I don't usually post but have enjoyed that cutie pie's stories so, I just wanted to give him the most dignified and loving tribute as I could.
Nice place, I heard about the cabana boy so will be going to look for him now....bye
Kathryn
dear miz kathryn:
chad the cabana boy returned from the back garden about half an hour ago, lookin' flustered and just plain habibi'ed to death. i gave him a pint of the vegetarian tequila, and sent him and the pint to the scullery to recover. he should be out shortly. in the meantime, do stop by the snuggery and pick out a color of nail polish. that dear boy does give fabulous pedicures, even when half-schnockered...or maybe i should say...*especially* when half-schnockered.
snuggs
snuggs,
Thanks for the invite. My favorite color is "purple passion". Might you be having that color?
I like to wear my emotions on my sleeve oh , I mean my feet!
Kathryn
katheryn...
last time i saw it, the passion purple was right behind opi's *i'm not a waitress* red.
snuggs
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