For _unhurt_, and thesme
The rest of you might want to just skip on by (mostly as it will make no sense ). Except Kanz ;)
Adventures on the Bering sea. Contains Lobsters
It was a dark and stormy night. Hell it was the Bering sea, it was always a dark and fucking stormy night, even at fucking lunchtime, Hugh muttered to himself as he stomped across the deck of the Northwestern. He was still only a greenhorn, but he'd managed to work that much out for himself.
He eyed the lights of the galley, where the more experienced crew were relaxing. Or, to be precise, drinking and throwing bait at each other, but that passed as relaxation out here. It had been quieter earlier, before they'd sent him out to check the lines; there's no point trying to scare a greenhorn with Bloodchilling Tales of the Sea if everyone is yelling. Some of them though, scare wouldn't be the word; utter bollocks would be more like it. Edgar must have been fermenting some of his own home brew to come up with THAT pile of crap - werelobsters? Even a kid wouldn't believe in fucking werelobsters. Even fucking Cal... well. Maybe Cal. But he wasn't here to think about that. He was here to NOT think about that.
Still muttering, he was caught unawares by a sudden lurch of the boat and sent sprawling. At least there was no-one here to witness that; they still hadn't let up about the time he'd accidentally tied Ed's favourite bait hook to one of the crab cages. Yeah. Accidentally. Even flat out on a wet, cold, stinking deck Hugh could still manage a laugh at that one. He started to push himself up again but the sleeve of that stupid giant waterproof jacket was caught on something. Hugh tugged - make that caught *by* something. Clamped onto his arm was the biggest fucking claw he had ever seen and, even after just a couple of weeks at sea, he was pretty damn sure that was no crab. Peering into the cage he had the weirdest feeling something was peering back. He shook it off, those stories had him more spooked than he realised and this was obviously just another joke to play on the new kid. Well, he was no fucking kid.
"Get the fuck off me Edgar, or this cage is going back in" he yelled, trying to pull his arm away. The claw just held tighter, and... something got closer to the bars of the cage. Straining to see in the darkness Hugh could just make out a shape. A large, lobstery shape. Then it struck him. The cage should be *full* of shapes; but it wasn't. All the crabs seemed to have crammed themselves to the back of the cage, as far away from whatever held him as they could get. Two beady eyes stared back at him and the claw tightened further. An antenna reached out and stroked his face. Hugh had no idea what the fuck was going on, but it was fucking creepy as FUCK.
Suddenly the door on to the deck burst open and the Sig strode out, yelling about lazy greenhorns sleeping on deck. The claw loosened and Hugh started scrambling to his feet, grasping the cage for support. But before he made it, he felt a brief sharp nip somewhere you do NOT want to feel a nip - at least not from a crab cage, unless you are Edgar, the freak - and let out a loud (and very embarrassing) yelp of pain.
"Fucking bastard lobster!" he squeaked; on his feet now, he started to kick the cage.
The Sig grabbed him, looking oddly intense "Did you say lobster? Did it bite you?"
"I dunno man, I mean Cap'n, it... pinched me or something."
The Captain's grip in him tightened "Did. It. Bite. You?" he repeated; then he dragged Hugh across the deck, towards the light, screaming for Edgar.
Great, thought Hugh wincing in the Captain's wake, now the whole fucking crew could mock him about the Pervy Lobster Attack.
But when the Sig kicked the galley door open, saying "Quick, LOBSTER bite", no-one laughed.
No-one laughed at all.
(and now I have to go home. Something is very wrong in my branes.)
I got home. I had no idea where this was going. Then Doccy brought such wrongness I laughed til I cried and now my throat hurts. And then, Inspiration followed.
Hugh stared at the suddenly silent and oddly horrified looking crew. Then the silence shattered and all hell broke loose. Edgar was loudest "It BIT him? But only now? There's still time, if we cut off his hand, or maybe the fingers, we'd have time".
Hugh began to feel faint at the words "cut off" and tried to protest weakly, while drawers were torn open and rifled for sharp implements. Talk of cauterising and hot tar made his head spin and they still didn't hear him. It was only as the Sig started examining his hands and caught the repeated mumbled words that he called for silence. With his last concious breath Hugh managed to shout 'IT WASN'T MY HAND", just as Edgar triumphantly cried "Maybe it's like snake venom and we can suck it..."
The crash as Hugh gave in and fainted mercifully drowned out the rest of that sentence.
A jug of cold water to the face brought him round again, spluttering. He was laid on the table, and his hands instinctively moved to protect himself. He could feel a ... tingling in that Area, a sensation that under any other circumstance he might have taken the time to experience, but right now the words "cut off" and "suck" were looming large in his memory.
He opened his eyes to see those of the Sig, Edgar and the rest of the crew [1] staring back worriedly.
He took a deep breath. "Ok. What the FUCK is going on. I got... pinched by a fucking lobster and yes it was on my cock, but why all the fucking panic?" This was a pretty fucking elaborate joke, even by Northwestern standards.
Again, silence. The Sig sighed "That wasn't just any lobster. Did you see the size of that claw? That was... well, we call him Mr Pinchy. He has many other names; going back as long as there have been men fishing these parts" Hugh - and every other man present - winced at the word 'parts'. "Those stories Edgar told earlier, about the werelobsters? They're not just stories. It doesn't happen often, but an experienced seaman will cut his own hand or foot off after a bite rather than face...than risk..." The Sig tailed off.
Hugh started to seriously worry. This was something that scared Sig? THE Sig, unflappable in the roughest seas, had gone pale.
"Well chopping off isn't a fucking option here, you fucking freaks, there must be another way! Something with silver... or what the fuck is the lobster equivalent of wolfsbane, some rare fucking seaweed you can wrap round it?" (which, now he'd mentioned, didn't sound such a bad idea).
Suddenly Edgar had a thought. You could actually see it cross his face. His eyes lit up.
"Hang on", he said, " you're Canadian!"
"What? yes I am. Does that make me fucking immune or some shit?"
Everyone else just looked puzzled.
Edgar persisted "He's CANADIAN. Not, you know American. DOWN THERE!" This was accompanied by gestures. Gestures Hugh had NOT wanted to see. Not while spreadeagled on the galley table. At least not with the whole crew there watching.
"What" thundered the Sig "are you TALKING about?"
"He's CANADIAN you dumb assholes. There IS still something to, you know, CHOP OFF. If... that's where he got bit."
Realisation dawned, first on Hugh, who grabbed himself even more protectively, then on the Sig, who clapped Edgar so hard on the back he nearly landed on the table too.
"You've got it! This will need specialists tho. Not just ANYONE could carry out that procedure under these conditions" He grabbed Hugh's shoulder in a strong and manly fashion "You ARE Canadian, aren't you?" Hugh could only nod; this was getting far too surreal to be actually happening, so he figured he might as well go with it.
"Good. Good. I have someone I can call. An old crewmate, he'll know how to get The Specialists here."
The emphasis Sig put on "The Specialists" would have worried Hugh even more, if he hadn't realised they'd obviously drugged him with some weird fishy hallucinogenic, probably made from crab shell or some shit. Cos, werelobsters? Fucking WEREfucking LOBSTERS? Riiight. He had to get some of this crab acid to try out when they got back home.
[1] yes yes, my DC crew knowledge is limited ;p
how do these things always get so LONG? It was meant to be short and... well not quite sweet ;p
Adventures on the Bering sea. Contains Lobsters
It was a dark and stormy night. Hell it was the Bering sea, it was always a dark and fucking stormy night, even at fucking lunchtime, Hugh muttered to himself as he stomped across the deck of the Northwestern. He was still only a greenhorn, but he'd managed to work that much out for himself.
He eyed the lights of the galley, where the more experienced crew were relaxing. Or, to be precise, drinking and throwing bait at each other, but that passed as relaxation out here. It had been quieter earlier, before they'd sent him out to check the lines; there's no point trying to scare a greenhorn with Bloodchilling Tales of the Sea if everyone is yelling. Some of them though, scare wouldn't be the word; utter bollocks would be more like it. Edgar must have been fermenting some of his own home brew to come up with THAT pile of crap - werelobsters? Even a kid wouldn't believe in fucking werelobsters. Even fucking Cal... well. Maybe Cal. But he wasn't here to think about that. He was here to NOT think about that.
Still muttering, he was caught unawares by a sudden lurch of the boat and sent sprawling. At least there was no-one here to witness that; they still hadn't let up about the time he'd accidentally tied Ed's favourite bait hook to one of the crab cages. Yeah. Accidentally. Even flat out on a wet, cold, stinking deck Hugh could still manage a laugh at that one. He started to push himself up again but the sleeve of that stupid giant waterproof jacket was caught on something. Hugh tugged - make that caught *by* something. Clamped onto his arm was the biggest fucking claw he had ever seen and, even after just a couple of weeks at sea, he was pretty damn sure that was no crab. Peering into the cage he had the weirdest feeling something was peering back. He shook it off, those stories had him more spooked than he realised and this was obviously just another joke to play on the new kid. Well, he was no fucking kid.
"Get the fuck off me Edgar, or this cage is going back in" he yelled, trying to pull his arm away. The claw just held tighter, and... something got closer to the bars of the cage. Straining to see in the darkness Hugh could just make out a shape. A large, lobstery shape. Then it struck him. The cage should be *full* of shapes; but it wasn't. All the crabs seemed to have crammed themselves to the back of the cage, as far away from whatever held him as they could get. Two beady eyes stared back at him and the claw tightened further. An antenna reached out and stroked his face. Hugh had no idea what the fuck was going on, but it was fucking creepy as FUCK.
Suddenly the door on to the deck burst open and the Sig strode out, yelling about lazy greenhorns sleeping on deck. The claw loosened and Hugh started scrambling to his feet, grasping the cage for support. But before he made it, he felt a brief sharp nip somewhere you do NOT want to feel a nip - at least not from a crab cage, unless you are Edgar, the freak - and let out a loud (and very embarrassing) yelp of pain.
"Fucking bastard lobster!" he squeaked; on his feet now, he started to kick the cage.
The Sig grabbed him, looking oddly intense "Did you say lobster? Did it bite you?"
"I dunno man, I mean Cap'n, it... pinched me or something."
The Captain's grip in him tightened "Did. It. Bite. You?" he repeated; then he dragged Hugh across the deck, towards the light, screaming for Edgar.
Great, thought Hugh wincing in the Captain's wake, now the whole fucking crew could mock him about the Pervy Lobster Attack.
But when the Sig kicked the galley door open, saying "Quick, LOBSTER bite", no-one laughed.
No-one laughed at all.
(and now I have to go home. Something is very wrong in my branes.)
I got home. I had no idea where this was going. Then Doccy brought such wrongness I laughed til I cried and now my throat hurts. And then, Inspiration followed.
Hugh stared at the suddenly silent and oddly horrified looking crew. Then the silence shattered and all hell broke loose. Edgar was loudest "It BIT him? But only now? There's still time, if we cut off his hand, or maybe the fingers, we'd have time".
Hugh began to feel faint at the words "cut off" and tried to protest weakly, while drawers were torn open and rifled for sharp implements. Talk of cauterising and hot tar made his head spin and they still didn't hear him. It was only as the Sig started examining his hands and caught the repeated mumbled words that he called for silence. With his last concious breath Hugh managed to shout 'IT WASN'T MY HAND", just as Edgar triumphantly cried "Maybe it's like snake venom and we can suck it..."
The crash as Hugh gave in and fainted mercifully drowned out the rest of that sentence.
A jug of cold water to the face brought him round again, spluttering. He was laid on the table, and his hands instinctively moved to protect himself. He could feel a ... tingling in that Area, a sensation that under any other circumstance he might have taken the time to experience, but right now the words "cut off" and "suck" were looming large in his memory.
He opened his eyes to see those of the Sig, Edgar and the rest of the crew [1] staring back worriedly.
He took a deep breath. "Ok. What the FUCK is going on. I got... pinched by a fucking lobster and yes it was on my cock, but why all the fucking panic?" This was a pretty fucking elaborate joke, even by Northwestern standards.
Again, silence. The Sig sighed "That wasn't just any lobster. Did you see the size of that claw? That was... well, we call him Mr Pinchy. He has many other names; going back as long as there have been men fishing these parts" Hugh - and every other man present - winced at the word 'parts'. "Those stories Edgar told earlier, about the werelobsters? They're not just stories. It doesn't happen often, but an experienced seaman will cut his own hand or foot off after a bite rather than face...than risk..." The Sig tailed off.
Hugh started to seriously worry. This was something that scared Sig? THE Sig, unflappable in the roughest seas, had gone pale.
"Well chopping off isn't a fucking option here, you fucking freaks, there must be another way! Something with silver... or what the fuck is the lobster equivalent of wolfsbane, some rare fucking seaweed you can wrap round it?" (which, now he'd mentioned, didn't sound such a bad idea).
Suddenly Edgar had a thought. You could actually see it cross his face. His eyes lit up.
"Hang on", he said, " you're Canadian!"
"What? yes I am. Does that make me fucking immune or some shit?"
Everyone else just looked puzzled.
Edgar persisted "He's CANADIAN. Not, you know American. DOWN THERE!" This was accompanied by gestures. Gestures Hugh had NOT wanted to see. Not while spreadeagled on the galley table. At least not with the whole crew there watching.
"What" thundered the Sig "are you TALKING about?"
"He's CANADIAN you dumb assholes. There IS still something to, you know, CHOP OFF. If... that's where he got bit."
Realisation dawned, first on Hugh, who grabbed himself even more protectively, then on the Sig, who clapped Edgar so hard on the back he nearly landed on the table too.
"You've got it! This will need specialists tho. Not just ANYONE could carry out that procedure under these conditions" He grabbed Hugh's shoulder in a strong and manly fashion "You ARE Canadian, aren't you?" Hugh could only nod; this was getting far too surreal to be actually happening, so he figured he might as well go with it.
"Good. Good. I have someone I can call. An old crewmate, he'll know how to get The Specialists here."
The emphasis Sig put on "The Specialists" would have worried Hugh even more, if he hadn't realised they'd obviously drugged him with some weird fishy hallucinogenic, probably made from crab shell or some shit. Cos, werelobsters? Fucking WEREfucking LOBSTERS? Riiight. He had to get some of this crab acid to try out when they got back home.
[1] yes yes, my DC crew knowledge is limited ;p
how do these things always get so LONG? It was meant to be short and... well not quite sweet ;p