Wednesday, June 1, 2011

I got even for getting the business over the tower I am not going to erect

I fought back over the drubbing I got earlier about the antenna tower I am not going to install and we all had a few yuks.

A deckhand was pulling a line tight and I put on my seldom seen panicky voice and screamed at him, "For God's sake, don't break that line!"

The line in question was about 2.25 inches in diameter and the kid froze for a second and looked at me.

"Quit pulling so hard! You'll break it!"

Then he felt a tad foolish and blushed a bit.
Then I really broke his chops. The tug skipper has known me for years and I picked up the handy-talkie.

"Tell that damned deckhand to stop pulling so hard on my deck lines! He started sucking all the oxygen out of the air and Tommy almost passed out from hypoxia!"

"I'll have a word with him," he said. He was close enough to see him and I watched him grin and shake his head.

"Thanks," said the deckhand. "Now you got me into trouble."

Then he figured it out and really blushed.

The tug skipper looked out. "Hey, Pic, lack of oxygen sounds like a safety issue. Maybe I'll have him write a safety report. That'll fix him!"

"Bury him in paperwork," I answered. The skipper chuckled.

He's a good kid and a little payback for giving me the business about the tower I am not going to set up in my yard seemed in order. He's also a character.

A couple of months ago he jumped over to us and was gently chided for it by the skippper. Jumping across is somewhat unsafe. I gotta give him this, he tried valiantly to squirm out of it.

"Piccolo says he did it all the time with only one hand because he had a sword in the other," said the kid.

"When Piccolo did that was wearing a shirt with a ruffled collar, puffy sleeves and had a pencil thin moustache and you're not," I said to the kid.

He scowled and rubbed his fingers under his nose. Then he furrowed his brows.

"I s'pose maybe I can get a tuxedo shirt at Goodwill and trim my 'stache down for next trip," he said.

Then he looked thoughtful, "Nah, I ain't gonna trim my 'stache," he grumbled. "It'd make me look like one a them old janitors I used to see in school! Guess I better not jump across anymore."

"If you don't want to wear a tuxedo shirt, you can wear green tights but you'd still have to trim your 'stache," I said. "Then I suppose it's be OK to jump across."

"Screw that," said the kid.

He hasn't jumped since, which is a good thing because I do not want to see anyone get hurt.

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