I gripped the sternrail with clammy paws. I heaved and spewed ... spewed last nights sixty dollar sushi dinner back to the deep. My Polo Sports streaked with viscous slime.
I stared , glassy eyed , into this lumpy green hell.
I growled and retched in despair and I cursed this black hearted , heaving , pox ridden harlot that tried to buck me off with her corkscrewing writhing gyrations.
I was a frothing , bug eyed fool.
Fifty feet away , up in the bow was the chain locker. If I could make my way there , I would wrap myself in chain and step over the side. How do I lift two hundred feet of chain ? Maybe if I unshackle Skipper Dave's six hundred dollar anchor ...
"Them that dies will be the lucky ones" ... that Blackbeard the Pirate phrase meant something to me now.
I looked towards the cockpit where three gallant sailors chatted merrilly. Oh how I despise them.
Then Skipper Dave says , "Hey Duke! The good news about all that vomitting and spewing is that it sure saves wear and tear on yer ars*hole." They laughed heartily ... and I attempted a grin.