114 - Liaisons

Thought I'd do something different...had a converse with a friend and thought I'd share the treasures of such an event.

Heya bud! howya going? <- say in THICK aussie accent!

Good thanks! Seems like years, ah the good old days. How long has it been since our last correspondence?
All is well on my fine vessel; we are keeping the Spaniards at bay. We plan to have a raucous in celebration. Give my love to the Queen.

Captain Morgan.

Our Company has been pinned down for days. The Germans are holding us at bay with volleys of Messerschmitt. They aren’t flying them at us. They’re throwing them. It seems the fuel shortages have hit Germany too.
Nevertheless, we will be celebrating Christmas in our foxhole. Sergeant De Silva has fashioned a tree from the spare rifles. We’ll use a flare to make up for the lack of Xmas lights. We have carollers too. The injured may have maimed limbs and gaping wounds but they do sing a wonderful noel.
As for me, I’m thinking about making an escape to Stuttgart. I hear they have kick arse New Years parties there.

I best sign off now. The Germans are throwing BMWs now. And my stomach simply can't handle the design flaws.

Yours with a propeller lodged in his face,

Captain Easthouse- Royal Infantry and sometimes saxophone player.

Oh what spiffing news that is! Carollers what a treat, be sure to pat them on whatever shoulder is not missing and may that flare burn with fantastic gust befitting the festive season.
Sadly for us no tree fashions our decks but we do have a few Cubans roped to the mast. Not a particularly fetching sight but I’m sure nothing a bit of seaweed can’t brighten up. Intriguing bunch actually, whine a lot, but definitely make the best tobacco this side of the equator.
Anyway, hope the New Years party goes up like a pint. I might have to take it a bit easy, the first mate has brought to my attention recent weight gain but I expect to burn that off with an expedition to Panama, I hear the locals can’t shoot for chickens.

Sincerely Cpt. Morgan.

Dear friend, I am writing this as I rumble my way to Stuttgart. I managed to barter passage on a train transporting swine to Auschwitz. It’s not as comfortable as they would have you imagine. The smell is bearable but the odour is terrible! The animals are reasonable company though. All of yesterday we watched a spider spin words like “Radiant” in a web. I later learnt that her name is Shallot and she’s a staunch communist. She met a very untimely death however when a boar mistook her weavings for instructions. Radiance has never been so brutal.

I have met a stowaway onboard. He is a Frenchman from France. He speaks funny. I can't really understand him and he smells like the inside of a wooden leg.

I’ll try to trade my arm hair for more paper when we land in Hamburg.

Strength and Honour.

Lieutenant Easthouse- PHD and LMNOP

Ah times are tough dear friend but I do appreciate the effort.

Things are developing well this side. Recently we where attacked by a giant sea monkey during which a crew member cut off one of its appendages and it wept bitterly. After some complementary chicken soup the freak began to spill the beans about being forced to attack us by an evil sardine called ‘Swivelsteve – Oh, he be not con-tin-ed the III’ for the great massacre of ‘Tuesday Last Week’ that we amassed on his people (We thought that fishy starters would go smashingly with the raucous I mentioned in a previous letter). Anyway, it had slipped my mind but I tired to look sincere. It does however add clarity to the random spray paint tagging ‘Nemo Lives’ on the side of my boat every morning. So the monkey thing told us where to find Swivelsteve – Oh, he be not con-tin-ed the III on some buoy (that’s origins have long since faded to legend) floating not far from where we laid anchor. Swivelsteve greeted me with the protocols befitting a gentleman and apologised for the extreme measures to get my attention. He went on to mention the many sufferings of his kind and the lives we had shattered to give clarity to his behavioural angst. It was very touching and I was genuinely remorse but it was lunch time and there was just simply nothing in the fridge so we slaughter the rest of them and had sardine sandwiches to last all week. Must admit I am getting rather tired of them though, I might trade them for some cheese with the rats aboard the vessel. I’ve actually developed quite the correlation with the little blighters. Their English is improving every day. Perhaps, if I may be so bold as to post one to you so as to give tips to your French companion.

It would be a fright shame to lose your arm hair, to my best recollection it was rather dashing. Hope things do turn out for the good your side.

Chin up,

Sir Cpt. H Morgan – Jamaican division: Station Island - I’nI’sdon’tdomoltiplikashn.

You win...i can’t top that.