View Full Version : Long time acomin... been awhile but its STORY time!!

Wild Dingo
12-01-2002, 11:49 AM
Now its been a fair flamin while since the last combined woodenboat.com forum story... so Im gonna kick the anchor rode out and set it to the wind...

Now out in the land of perpetual warmth there was a really fine little schooner sittin waitin at the end of her mooring day after day she waited as her paint began to peel and her varnish dried and cracked she just bobbed there waiting... waiting... when finally along came...

Take it away!!

12-01-2002, 11:54 AM
...a wooden boat nut, her new owner, who knew little or nothing about sailing a schooner. Nevertheless he and several wild-haired, perforated friends cast loose the anchor rode and started pulling on various lines....

12-02-2002, 07:44 AM
..and they pulled the darn pilings right outta the muck and water......bobbing and bouncing against the hull, which incidentally.........

12-02-2002, 07:47 AM
... Was planked in the finest Spanish cedar, usually reserved for cigar boxes owned by wealthy plantation owners in the verdant hills of south...

On Vacation
12-02-2002, 08:06 AM
which was actually pulpwood labeled incorrectly to fool the yankee backyard boatbuilders into thinking it was prime wood from the Florida swamps bound for......

[ 12-02-2002, 08:07 AM: Message edited by: Oyster ]

12-02-2002, 08:14 AM

Wild Dingo
12-02-2002, 08:19 AM
yelped the first mate in total abject surprise when with his one fine eye he spied...

12-02-2002, 08:33 AM
... the most gorgeous raven haired beauty he'd ever laid eyes on. Her skin was tea brown, and her eyes the color of caramel. She beckoned to him from the banks of the marsh with one hand, the other clutching the tattered remains of a ball gown to her shapely torso...

Wild Dingo
12-02-2002, 08:53 AM
"Vermilly!!! Honeychile yer finally come to yer sences you comely sheila and left that roo droppin infested Charlie bigears and his flamin aligatar infested swamp!" he yelped as he raced toward her arms outstreched toward the object of his long desire...

12-02-2002, 09:02 AM
... If only he had seen the irrigation ditch a split second earlier, he thought, as he plunged face first into the waist high ooze. Now he was going to have some explaining to do once he got back to the tavern....

12-02-2002, 10:45 AM
......he puled and pulled to free himself of the the muck. One boot came off...and then the other, and then the other was stuck in the mud two feet under......

12-02-2002, 01:18 PM
... "Wait" he said to himself, "How many boots am I wearing?"... Meanwhile, in another part of town... Zinny Ferrule, the owner of "Zinny's pizza and ribs" was just getting started on his day. Checking last nights receipts, and firing up the ancient brick oven fueled by apple crates, and the occasional smashed bar stool...

gunnar I am
12-02-2002, 09:13 PM
... all the children, whose sunbeams were stolen. They see her promise, and think only of saving her, for they know she deserves better. And so with purpose and love , she was to be reborn. Upon her completion, she drew hard at her mooring, the last of the rotting strands , giving way, her cargo of children, bound for a world, where their past will be no more. She fills her sails and spreads her wings and rises! O'er the railings they lean, with mouths like O's and eyes filled with awe. The fog of cruelty and cold far below, the ship knows her way to islands of tropical warmth, of villages full, but with no children to love, where the sun shines at day, and the moon beams at night, and where a ship can rest on soft white sand.

12-02-2002, 10:33 PM
Was what was written on the back cover of the 1 page menue at "Zinny's pizza and Ribs". Zinny's father had written this little ode in a letter to his wife when he was cruising the aqua swells off of Trinidad in the second world war. Zinny's father, (Zinny the elder) was a great philosopher in the Greek maritime merchant marine coconut collecting brigade. It was he who first thought of the combination pizza joint/rib shack. Originally it also had a laundry-mat attached, but that proved un-profitable on the island....

Zinny took one last look at the giant pizza oven, sighed, and went to unlock the flimsy wooden door that served to keep the drug addicts and prostitutes out of his shop during the breif few hours he wasn't inside... Zinny could already hear Sam... the retired gumshoe 's wheezing raspy breath waiting outside the door.... Zinny should have had that bottle of rum on the bar already he realized too late as he un-hooked the latch....

12-02-2002, 10:40 PM
That dang latch that never seems to work on the first try. Noth'n like a bit of crisco to get that aged rought iron working again. Either that, or for greasing the oak cradle of an old boat she is pulled from the water for a cold season

Wild Dingo
12-03-2002, 04:06 AM
"ooooh no like that thilly!" squelched young Bruthie the young gay blade who minced toward the grotty latch and holdin it in between his dainty luthier fingers as he was a guitar and madolin maker known far and wide... daintly he sniffed "ooohhh it doth smell weeelly badly dont it oh were ith tha wubbly Martha when a man needs her? oh look theres that Bobby!! ooohhh Bobby Cleeky you darling hunk of a seaman you!! oooooohhhh... dont you go ignorin me you nasty gnome!!" he screeched as he ran...

{Editors note... no referrence or inferance is to be taken by or toward Bob Cleek our well respected fellow ship mate who we know to be 6'10 and built like the proverbial dunny ****e house and as mean as a dozen rabid gnomes in heat! :eek: ... The name Bobby Cleeky was Bruthies way of sayin something else... Martha of course referrs to Martha Stewart who by the way we all realize Bob Cleek thats Bob Cleek not Bobby Cleeky has a long running mad crush on... but Bob has an aversion to Marthas newest interest in Prison plush grey tones... Bruthie himself draws no relation to a certain resepcted ship mate named Bruce {thats Bruce not Bruthie} who also is a luthier of some note :D sorry mates couldnt resist! :rolleyes: now watch em get even!!... HA!! That should bring em out of the woodwork!! :eek: }

[ 12-03-2002, 04:14 AM: Message edited by: Wild Dingo ]

12-03-2002, 06:36 AM
up the mast like a goanna up a gum tree. "Ya cant get at me here!" he jeered and then the...

12-03-2002, 09:15 AM
... Zinny shook his head. These flashbacks to his glory days of hallucinnogentic kool-aide, and gun running in Angola, were getting worse and worse every year....
He flipped the latch, and before the door was fully opened, in stumbled Old Sam. "got my rum set up boy?" Sam growled, as he shuffled to the bar area.
"Coming right up Sam" said Zinny. I wish that damn cat would help out around here, instead of just chasing the mice into the flour bin..."
Sam looked at the old blind cat curled up on top of the 1947 "Kelvinator" fridge in the corner. "aw hell Zin.... He's just like me. He's done a lifetime of work already, and now it's payback time"
As Zinny was pulling the cork on the foul smelling local hootch that Sam referred to as "rum" the door opened again and in waltz Sabrina....

12-04-2002, 10:50 PM
.... And Vermilly. "Hi Sam... Hi Zinny!" screams Samantha. "why you allways yelling?" Whispers the raven haired Vermilly.
"Because the Damn cat's DEAF!"
"He's not deaf, he's blind" grumbles Zinny.
"Deaf....Blind....Same thing....anyway....how's it going Sam?" Vermilly picks up Sam's bottle, sniffs, and says, "GAWD!" and plonks it down on the bar.
"You seen them wooden boat nuts out there in the marsh this mornin' tryin' ta spring that old scow outta the muck?" Zinny looks over his shoulder at Sam....Who has suddenly come alive....
"Who was it" Sam asks in a quiet voice... "not them rat bastads from the Mystic ski port I hope...."
"No....It was some pretty boys from Austria I think" says Vermilly....
"Austria?" Zinny laughs, and puts a new load of apple crates on the fire under the pizza oven, slams the door and says, "why you think they're Austrian?"
"It's the accent... they all sound like friggin' Crocodile Dundee" Vermilly says as she minces of towards the ladies room with her powder puff in her hand.
Sam's laughing so hard he can't drink, and this is starting to piss him off....

12-05-2002, 10:19 PM
... Back on the marsh, The first mate has retreived both of his shoes, plus another one he found in the ooze with his own. Obviously he wasn't the first sucker to be charmed into the irrigation ditch by that sheherezade doing her "Tai-chi" in the grass... He coulda SWORE she was beckoning to him, and the long months at sea didn't help his attitude towards an apparent seduction any...

12-06-2002, 11:04 PM
EH! FLAMMIN' BEEEE-UT-EEEEE-FUL! "ow'd yaz get outter tha dunk mate? Screamed the second mate from the schooner which was by now nosing it's way down the edge of the marsh, headed for the harbor.
The first mate trotted along the shoreline trying to catch up with the sodden hulk. From this vantage point he could see that the hull was badly sprung. Much more badly that it appeared when they first started to pry her out of the muck....
The second mate cupped his good ear with his bad hand, and said....."HUH?" He looked behind himself, and looked under his foot... "Who you calling 'low down'? you goddamned college edjumacated friggin beastie rat bastad! I'LL SHOW YOU 'LOW DOWN'! HARD AT IT BOYS!" And the second mate pushed the untested throttle mechanism full forward. The schooner gave a mighty shudder, and surged ahead into the mists of the harbor, where....

Peter Malcolm Jardine
12-06-2002, 11:12 PM
suddenly there appeared Mad Mike Mclachlan and his barge and dredge. Here now... thought the mate, maybe he can grab aholt of this sieve and keep her from the marsh bottom... "AHOY MIKE!!!" yelled the mate, as Mike appeared from the barge shack drunk as usual...

12-07-2002, 10:43 PM
..."Mad" Mike Maclanahan was a big man. 6'8" and 450 lbs of muscle and beer. He was dredging harbors up and down the east coast of the USA when Truman was president, and moved to Cuba just before the revolution.
He found that running a harbor dredge in the Caribbean more suited to his clothes than Long Island Sound in January, and he liked the food. The beer wasn't great, but the price also suited his wallet.
When Mike was on a dredge in Tobago once, he ran aground on the "sister rocks". He never forgot that experience. Mike had a 7" scar on his formidable forehead to remind him everymorning as he washed off the effects of the night before....

12-08-2002, 10:22 PM
....Mike saw the schooner coming up hard on his port side, gushing water out the bilge ports like some damn college kid after a keg party.
"Now....Who the hell is this?.....And how'd they know my name?" Muttered Mike, as he fetched the shotgun off the pilot house door, where it had been rusting into its rack for the last 2 months since the "incident" in Suriname...

Wild Dingo
12-08-2002, 10:25 PM
"well dabnab me hide clyde!! its a schooner now aint tha wa ol Charles was wantin to impress is young filly with?" "sho beats that woodn flats boat he done builted Elmer maybe we sho should done take it offen them thar yankee revenuoors?"... and graspin the...

12-10-2002, 10:28 PM
...Left cheek of his flabby buttocks, Mad Mike staggers to the port rail.
"Who's dat there?!" Hollered Mike into the distance. "who the HELL is it!?"
Mike looked closer, squinting his eyes in the glare from the tropical sun.
The second mate suddenly had second thoughts on hooking up to the harbor dredge as a load of tripple ought buckshot buzzed by his good ear and took a small chunk of spruce out of the mast just over his right shoulder.
"It's ME MIKE!....ME! Travis!"

Mad mike stood quivering in rage on the oily deck of the "Elkie Sommer" all those years running, and now in the twilight years of his career, they had found him at last...

Peter Malcolm Jardine
12-10-2002, 11:33 PM
"Goddamn freeloaders" he thought, as he lowered the shotgun. Sure, Travis was his friend, but who could you trust these days anyway. His brother Rory had trusted some, and ended up doing federal time for illegal dredging in wetlands. "Not me" Mike mumbled to himself as he turned to the big boom hanging over the water. He heaved himself into the chair behind the hydraulic controls, and smiled..."I should save the boat... I can always bury Travis in the loon **** if he pisses me off." The schooner rubbed up against the rusty side of the barge, as Travis threw the engine in reverse. "Holy Jesus by' Could ya be a little less handy with the shotgun Mike?..Travis' voice broke with stress.. I could use a hand with.....

12-11-2002, 06:08 PM
...this old tub. She's about to sink under my feet." Mike throws him a couple of ratty nylon slings and says, "Put these around her and we'll hoist her aboard." With much groaning and squeaking, Mike's rig slowly lifts the schooner clear of the water. Just as she's up even with the barge's deck, the lift engine gives out a great sigh and stops. Mike says, "Well, fer...." and gives the schooner a sharp kick in the topsides, as if this was all her fault. She shuddered a bit, and with a screeching of rusty bolts she divested herself of her ballast keel.
It made a great splash and quickly found its way to the muddy bottom. Recovering from his chagrin (because he had thoughts of selling the lead), Mike said, "Well, that's OK. We'll mark the rail where she went in so we can come back and fish her out." The lift engine comes to life, and soon the schooner is deposited on Mike's barge.

12-11-2002, 10:49 PM

Zinny finished putting the second heap of old crates on the fire under the brick pizza oven, and shut the cast iron door to the fire box with his foot.
On the other side of the bar old Sam was just finishing off his second glass of rum, and feeling around in his shirt pocket for a cigarette that wasn't there.
Vermilly and Sabrina were still in the Ladies room/Mens room/utility closet, and the damn cat was still ontop of the old Kelvinator...
Zinny was wondering what the hell was going on out on the marsh with that old boat, that got Sam so worked up a few minutes ago and was about to ask the old detective, when the door burst open and in strode officer Byron Denoon......

12-12-2002, 11:12 PM
.... "Good morning officer Denoon! Can I get you a drink?" offered Zinny.
"not just yet..." said Denoon.
"Mr. Antonio, I'd like a word with you in private if possible. In the back room if that's OK with Mr. Ferrule....." Looking sideways at Zinny. Officer Denoon motioned towards the rest room.
"Sabrina! Vermilly!... GET YER NOSES off the toilet seat!" shouted Zinny as the cop and the old detective headed towards the back...
The two hussies charged out of the storage room wiping their nostrils as the cop opened the door.
Zinny stopped old Sam as he was staggering off his perch...
"What's this about Sam?" asked Zinny. "Anything you wanna tell me before you go in there?"
Sam Antonio, "Texas gumshoe" looked at the only guy who'd trusted him in the last 12 years and said: "I'm not really sure kid... If I'm not out in 12 minutes.. call the embassy...".......

12-13-2002, 10:31 PM
... Zinny set about making the marinade for the 80 or so pounds of ribs that needed to be soaked in goop for 2 days prior to the 6 hour wet smoking they would get on Saturday. As he was chopping onions and garlic he called over his shoulder to Vermilly who was desperately trying to not appear to be eavesdropping on what was going on in the store room. "Hey Verm... Pull that box of ribs out of the cooler and and flip 'em will ya?"
Vermilly gave him a withering glance, tossed her hair and muttered, "I just did my nails last night... I ain't getting that gross stuff all over my hands today."
Zinny sighed, put down his thick bladed hunting knife thst he always used for chopping things that needed to be chopped, and turned to face Vermilly. "What do I pay you for? You don't wait on customers unless you think they're going to tip you well. You don't do dishes. You won't help out with any of the prep. work. You hardly ever even help out in the bar... So tell me, what do I pay you for?"
"You pay me because I draw customers in here to eat your lousy friggin' pizza and friggin' gross ribs.... And because you're still hoping someday I'll let you into bed..."
Zinny laughed so hard tears started to slip down his cheeks.
"Sleep with you? You think I want to SLEEP with you?! I wouldn't go to bed with you even IF you were attractive!"
Vermilly got up from the bar stool she'd been perched on near the bathroom door and stalked out the front door with a toss of her head, and a flip of her "signaling finger".
Sabrina was watching all this with intrest....

12-16-2002, 11:41 PM
... Zinny turned back to the kitchen area and started chopping onion. The knife making a satisfying "chunk chunk chunk" sound as he diced the pungent roots into fairly small pieces.

Sabrina took a sip of her diet Coke and rum, cleared her throat and said," Ummm..... Zinny... Do you think I'm attractive..?"

"Of course I do Breenie, If I didn't I wouldn't take you home every night..." muttered Ferrule.

Just then Sam and officer Denoon came out of the store room/mens room/ladies room. The spring on the door closer twanged as the door slapped shut behind them.
"Mr. Ferrule, I think Mr. Antonio and I will have that drink now if you don't mind" said Denoon, as both men plonked their butts on the worn out stools at the bar....

12-17-2002, 10:50 PM
... Zinny poured two glasses of rum and set them in front of the cop and the old gumshoe, picked an ice cold bottle of coke from the icebox under the counter and set it unopened inbetween the two glasses.
Sabrina hopped nimbly off her stool and set about sorting silverware in the gray plastic tub that served as a repository for "cleaned" utensils.
"ummmm.... Zinny..... " rasped Sam.
" You know anything about Mad Mike and that old schooner out on the marsh?"
Zinny looked at Sam, then looked at Officer Denoon. Both were looking at him with that look that said they knew the correct answer, and were just waiting for him to screw up.
Zinny cleared his throat, and told Sabrina to go check the smoker out back.......

12-18-2002, 11:12 PM
... Sabrina headed out to where the big old oil drum smoker was in the back yard and started filling the fire box with paper, and Guava wood chunks.
Inside the rib shack/pizza joint, Zinny filled a mug with guinness from a tap on the bar, and sat down facing his two uninvited guests.
"Byron.... Er... Officer Denoon.... You've known me for how long now?.....5 years?"
"About that I guess Zinny.... Look, all I need to know is what you know. I int looking to bust you for nothing unless yer into something that needs you to be busted for...."
Sam Antonio took a pull from his rum and stood over the cop. " Look Denoon.... I dint tell you all that crap in there just so you could hassle my buddy here...."
Byron Denoon, 6'2" of ebony iron looked up at the sagging old detective and said; "Calm down Sam.... We gonna work this alllll out.....".....

12-19-2002, 10:46 PM
....Zinny looked at the two men in front of him. "C'mon guys, let's take a ride down to the marsh"
The 3 of them picked up their drinks and headed out the door. Zinny yelled over his shoulder for Sabrina to fire up the smoker and throw the 40 pounds of marinated ribs on after about a half hour.
In the beat up old Toyota land cruiser that was Byron Denoon's patrol car, they all juggled their drinks as the bounced down the steep hill towards the marsh....

12-20-2002, 11:44 PM
... Sam asked Zinny to hold his rum, and reached into the old army gas mask bag he always carried with him. After a second or two of scrabbling around, he pulled out a blue-black Charter arms .32 cal. detectives special. The barrel was partly stuffed with old Kleenex, and there was a bit of cough drop and lint stuck to the cylinder, but it still looked leathal....

12-23-2002, 09:36 AM
...That of the old black and white movie, hard as flint, tough talking, hard drinking, womanizing, world wise, detectives played by H. Bogart and their ilk...
It wasn't working too well he realized as he tried to pry the gummy cough drop residue off of the pistol...

Wild Dingo
12-23-2002, 09:44 AM
As the devistated Bob of Cleek on hearing news of his beloved Martha of Stewarts heading into the confines of the local lockup for a few years for fiddlin the books instead of him... upon reachin the deck mutterin to himself as he cast off... "aahhh by gar...

12-25-2002, 11:50 PM
... As Zinny Ferrule was watching the grizzled old detective toying with the pistol, he thought back to the time when he had just opened his first restaurant/bar. It was the first (and as far as Zinny knew, only) nudie bar in the mid-east exclusively for Arabs, and Israelis. He'd called it "The Gaza Strip Club" and served booze and pizza to PLO leaders, and Knesset members side by side. It was a "booming" sucsess. He sold only one brand of cigarettes behind the bar. These were produced by a small company fronted by the CIA, and run by a friend from the Sudan. The cigarettes were called "Isreal Lights". and they were made with a small amount of hashish oil in the filter. There wasn't a single incidence of violence in the whole 6 years that he owned the club, before he sold the place to a man from Norway.....

12-26-2002, 01:27 PM
....who took a percentage of the strippers' tips, which did not sit well with them, and so they all quit. The new owner, in a effort to economize, changed to a less expensive cigarette distributor, not realizing the unique properties of the house brand. The U. S. congress had just reduced the budget of the C. I. A. that year, leaving no marketing or promotional monies in the budget. There was thus no way for competitive marketing efforts to be financed, and it did not take long for the traditional enemies to begin to use the place solely for assasinations.

The remaining clientele followed the strippers around the corner and down the street to the present location. Originally it had been opened by the grizzled old gumshoe himself, as a retirement hang-out in an interesting location. He originally won the island in a legendary poker game with several Greek shipping tycoons. The gumshoe had a bad gambling habit, however, and Zinny acquired a half-interest in the place in a similar manner.

Each sat silently, lost in their own thoughts.

Meanwhile, Sabrina was similarly daydreaming, listening to the small sounds of fire popping and grease bubbling. The quiet was broken when the door slammed open and a man of pock-marked and swarthy complexion staggered in. In his arms was a string-and-newspaper-wrapped bundle, about as big as Martha's derriere. "I'll pay well for a bed and your silence", he gasped, and then fell to the floor. From his back protruded an ornate gold-and-silver-chased handle of a large daggger.

She expertly went through the stranger's pockets, and found little aside from the equivalent of two hundred and forty dollars in local currency, and a key that might have fit a bank safe-deposit box.

Opportunity knocks, and invited itself right on in, she thought. She picked the stranger up by his belt and heaved him right across her shoulder. Doing a deep-knee-bend, she picked up the package with her free hand and walked out the door into the beginning of an entirely new life.

It was only three blocks to her apartment. There was only the one bed. "No sense getting blood on my sheets", she thought. She deposited the stranger on her floor, stowed the package on a shelf in her closet and went out to check the local bars, to find Doc, the resident sawbones. "I wonder what's in that package", she thought....but the thought did not last, as she had a drink in each bar and it was five of them later before she found Doc.

"Lishen, Doc, I got fifty bucks here if you can help me with someone got stabbed", she said.

Doc focussed slowly, and recognized Sabrina.

"I know there's more to it. You wanna cut me in for a piece of the action, or pay me five hundred?"

Sabrina thought quickly, and said, "................

12-26-2002, 09:03 PM
.... "i'll cut you in for a five action, onthe hundred....or half of that.....what ever you want." Sabrina tilted towards the doctor, and made sure her breasts were rubbing up against his shoulder.
" I know.....you know what I know you think about..... ummmm. anyway....c'mon....we gotta go save this stabbed dead guy"
And with that Sabrina colapsed on the floor at the good doctors feet with her shirt falling completely open from the belt up....

12-27-2002, 10:04 PM
Travis looked at Mad Mike Maclachlan standing on the greasy deck of the "Elke Sommer" in his tattered canvas cutoffs, and a T-shirt that had seen more time as an oil rag than a garment.
The big mans eyes were bloodshot (which was not unusual), and had a deep faraway look. Something told Travis that his old buddy was not only hungover, but in a far distant land....

12-29-2002, 10:35 PM
.... The sun beating down on Maclachlan's head was brutal. It was that pure, clean, fresh, unfiltered sun that you find near the Equator on Sunday mornings around 9 O'Clock. Tuesday mornings it's just as pure, clean, fresh, and unfiltered, but not NEARLY as brutal.
There is something about Saturday night that makes this so... It's not the music. Lord knows it's not the ladies! It's not even the rum. It might be a combination of two or more of the above, but more likely it's just the way it's always been.
This year he was in Suriname. He'd been fighting the border war for over 5 months and still didn't know which side he was fighting for. He kept his dredge in the middle of the damned river, and shot at whoever came close. Except on Friday and Saturday nights. Fridays, and especially Saturday nights were for more personal battles....

12-30-2002, 10:18 PM
When Mike Maclachlan left City Island New York, He also left his wife, and his 17 month old son.
His wife Wanda, was the only daughter of the Spanish trade emmisary's southern hemispheric negotiations administrator, Jose Fucca.
Of couse shortly after Mike married her, Mike realized that he was in the straits of Wanda Fucca.... But what could a guy do?.....
After the baby was born, he really tried to be a good husband, for at least 5 months.... then.....

12-31-2002, 10:52 PM
On New years eve..... Mike got a call from an old buddy he hadn't seen in 4 years. That night he shoved off from City Island, for Baltimore. It was supposed to be a 5 day barge haul. Sometime in February he docked at the customs house in St. Lucia........ From there he went straight to Guyana with a load of "iron". After he unloaded his cargo, he was fueled up and sent to Barbados with some barrels of "fuel oil". In Barbados he off loaded his "fuel oil" and took on a cargo of steel drums bound for Trinidad... Somewhere between Barbados and Trinidad, Mad Mike Maclachlan decided he'd had enough of the mule trade, and headed for the Amazon river......

01-01-2003, 09:31 PM
.... The Venesualian Navy had a few "issues" with the dredge plowing through the surf just off shore, and thought they'd exact a "customs tariff". Mike had different ideas, and sent the converted Chris-craft the navy was using, running for Carracas with her transom between her legs...
Once he Hit the harbor in Georgetown, Guyana, he figured he'd just drop anchor for a while and see if he couldn't drum up a little buisiness...

01-03-2003, 11:01 PM
... In a greasy little Roti stand/rumshop on the water front, Mike met a greasy little man who talked non-stop about a border war. Mike listened as best he could, considering the only spanglish he knew was Puerto rican spanglish, and figured out that the man was talking about some dispute over who owned the rights to control some mud clogged river just south of where they were sitting....
After several days (and bottles of rum), Mike decided that he had 2 options. Thee first, and most obvious option was to go back to Trinidad. The second option was, to go to Paramaribo Suriname, and offer his services as a dredge captain, and make a million dollars hauling muck. He really wasn't expecting mortar fire or molatov cocktails but.....

01-04-2003, 10:59 PM
... Then again, one never do know...do one?
Mad Mike MacLachlan powered out of the Georgetown harbor with two Guyanese super cargo, a palet of rum, two cartons of French cigarettes, a case of warm beer, and 3 new shotguns.
When they were just off the coast of Suriname, they were met by an American Coast guard fast attack boat. Apparentlly there was starting to be some serious drug running going on. Seeing as how the only thing illegal on Mikes boat was the blood alcohol level of the skipper, they went on their merry way after a brief 5 hour inspection....

01-05-2003, 09:10 PM
... With a brand new USCG INSPECTED tag on the boom of his dredge, Mike felt damn near invincible. Until he ran into the Brazillian navy, that is.... The Brazillian navy had different ideas about what was legal, and what their rights to board ships in foreign waters were, than the USCG. Mikes two passengers were "removed" from his company, and last seen tied to an old tire rim on the deck of the navy "cutter". The Brazillians also "confiscated" the rum, cigarettes, and 2 shotguns. The third shotgun was stashed in such an obvious place that only a navy man could possibly have missed it....
Long story short... When Mike finally pulled into the Neiuw Nickerie harbor, at the mouth of the Nickerie river, He was thirsty, tired, nicotine deprived, and pretty much pissed off at the world.....