Ask Bob

BY BRIAN PETRE

I'm reminded every day that we all have a story to tell some are priceless, some are worthless, and some are just plain stupid. I'm telling the latter, true to form. I find the stupid stories are more priceless than watching a three legged cat trying to bury a turd on a frozen pond.

I stole that turd line, but it was worth it. Where the fuck was I with my story the Panamanian whore with the guy holding the machine gun? The cabin fever? The Chief Engineer redneck super-gluing himself to the toilet bowl? No, not quite there yet I believe I left off after we almost sunk the tug boat after a brief tour around.

For those of you just joining us, this is part deux of 'The Pelican Tragic'

It had been an interesting 24 hours since I boarded the 'Pelican Magic', and after burning the crew some burgers for dinner I was sent down to the engine room to mind the continuing leak we had at the propeller shaft while the rest of the crew indulged in my gourmet blackened cow meal. Good thing I ate the good burgers before bringing them down to the mess because I was in for the longest night of my life even longer than the night I got hit by a car and had to walk 3 miles to a friends place on a shattered leg. Yes, my friends, this night truly sucked ass.

I'm not sure what caused the propeller to fall out of the tug, and I can't explain, no matter how hard I try, the amount of effort put into pulling the prop back into the boat. All I knew was that there was still this miniscule leak that if not tended to, could sink the tug 'again' if not supervised. This was now my job.

The way it worked was if the propeller shaft starts to slide out of the boat there's this inflatable rubber tube, like a fatter version of the rubber you'd find inside a bike tire, that would be accessible to inflate with an air compressor to seal off any leak. So, there I am with this fucking air hose babysitting this tire in the loud ass engine room, when I notice the damn tire has a small hole in it.

I didn't see the hole; if I had there was still part of a toilet bowl gasket I could have used to seal it up with no, all I could see was this minute drip start to collect at the bottom of the tire and drip onto the engine room floor.

Drip...drip...drip...drip. drip...drip..drip. Drip, drip, drip. This is within about 10 seconds. Then, shortly after the drip stops, a small spray begins like a cat taking a leak on a couch, then a dog, and eventually looks like Andre the Giant having bladder problems after a long night at a keg party. And this is still the beginning�I know, because I taunted and tested the damn leak for 12 freaking hours. If I left it alone for more than 30 seconds you were looking at Niagara Falls. Left alone any longer, and the boat would have gone down in less than 20 minutes. And who knows about this? NOBODY, that's who. I'm the only god damn person that knows this boat will sink if somebody doesn't keep shooting air in this fucking tire every 10 seconds to keep it inflated!

Drip, drip, drip'pfhhshht. Drip, drip, drip'pfhhshht. Drip, drip, drip'pfhhshht. This was all I knew for what seemed an eternity. Somebody must be coming down, wondering where I am, I thought. They must think something's wrong, hell, I could have fallen over for all they knew. Maybe, just maybe, they'll want more burnt burgers.

Nothing. I imagined the rest of the crew finishing up their meal, maybe watching a movie in the galley, laughing and telling stories about looking death in the face, and thanking their t-shirts for their very survival. Then they crawled into their bunks, all weary and tired from such an adventure and here I am, saving their lives. I sat there all night long with this air hose and tire, and to this day I couldn't tell you why I thought these sons of bitches were worth it.

Drip, drip, drip'pfhhshht. When they finally found me I'd been on brink of insanity for so long I couldn't even talk right. I was saying things like, 'For the flounder of the fish, I need not let the burgers of my lord burn through the bowels of this ship. You are all my children'. They carried me away and let me get my just deserved 4 hours of sleep I would need before the next disaster.

I later found out the patch kit for the tire was on the shelf beside me.

I did save that ship. I did save their lives. And all I got for it was the making for the 'coming next' part of this story:

COMING NEXT: Tales of the 'Pelican Tragic' III, or 'is he really just beginning this story? You bet your flounder I am.