Friday, November 12, 2004

Guest Blogger Gus Openshaw

I Got A Fish To Kill
Don't make me relive the details just now. The short of it: a whale ate my wife, kid and right arm. And he got away. For the time being.

Now, there are these Indians in the state of Washington. They have one of those licenses you can get—because of a special religious dispensation or whatever—to kill one whale a year. For probation agreement reasons that I can't get into, I had to get myself one of these licenses before I could go back out on the water—let alone set a toe on a dock—without getting shot at by the damn Coast Guard. So I went up to Washington to pow-wow with those Indians.

Prior to the incident, I worked on the line at a cat food cannery. Literally the worst stinking job you can get. Point is, I was earning just north of squat. But I'd married way better than I deserved. And when she died, I was worth—including everything from the house to my boxer shorts—$515,200. Oddly, the Indian Chief priced the license at $515,000, take it or leave it. I took it, gladly. I later learned that my lawyer had "coincidentally" done some "legal work" for the same Indians that same day, getting him a check $51,500. But I was too busy readying my boat to care about the lawyer. My thoughts were on getting to the neck of the Caribbean where a particularly fat sperm whale had been sighted.

I bought an old wooden cabin cruiser from a geezer in Port Helslop, Washington for $20. Wood boats are a bitch is why. Takes a good couple hundred hours to scrape and paint the hulls every year. Invention of fiberglass made wood boats' asses obsolete. So folks with wood boats they don't use no more are left with this dilemma: "Do I keep paying two grand a year to keep this sucker in dry dock, or do I pay some guy twice that much to come over, chain saw my family heirloom apart and haul it to the dump?" So the price for these craft is zip. The twenty bucks was for the gas in her. And it was a good fifty bucks worth of gas.

A few days later, a few leagues north of the Equator, I upgraded to a 180-foot superyacht that came with this computer I'm blogging on now. I'll get to that next time I blog. Now I got to hit the head.

Please keep on reading so you get caught up and be of use to me and my crew in finding the bastard.




Unknown said...

Seriously people, click the keep on reading link. This is a tale of suspense, intrigue, and flat out make coffee come up your nose humor.

Thanks again to Gus for sub-ing for me, as the crazy people (my parents) shall be descending upon me soon.

Anonymous said...

I checked this site out from your BIF day.

It's addicting. I'm in September now, almost caught up!


The Bard Sinister said...

Enjoy your weekend, Kelly. Nobody can bring on the crazy like family.

Hope the guest-blogging gig gets Gus a slew of new readers. (I've been sharing the adventure since June, and I'm looking forward to the blubber burger barbeque.) Gus needs all the help he can get if he is going to bag that whale.

Gus, if you read this, you really should put a link to your Cafe Press shop on your main page. Who does not want a nifty t-shirt featuring Flarq and the blubbery bastard?

rancette said...

Nice post Gus. Hope you catch the whale.

Pink Poppy said...

Hey Gus! This is SO much fun! Reading you here all decked out in holiday finery is a hoot. Hope you bag that whale before the holidays so that you can relax with Flarq and the rest of the crew. I'd hate for you to be stuck out on the schooner where the holidays would be neither merry nor bright...Good luck and Happy Hunting!

Annie said...

I would just like to issue some instructions for people about to read the rest of Gus's journal:

1. Go to the bathroom.
2. Grab some food and drink.
3. Turn on your voice mail and/or do not disturb button.

You are going to be riveted for awhile.

Anonymous said...

I give Gus and his Quest for a Whale "two thumbs up".

Anonymous said...

If this goofy chick thinks it's funny, it's got to be hilarious.


Anonymous said...

KJ, thanks for bringing aboard these new recruits to help me find the bastard. Once we get him, I will either name a ship after you or give you a cut of the sperm oil and blubber--your choice.

Gus Openshaw