Filling In For Davy (Garland)

Filling In For Davy (Garland)

By Marlin Spike Jones

I got a call from Davy (he calls himself Garland these days). He asked me to fill in for him and write his Blog post today. He says he needs a break but I think he is just lazy. I think laziness runs in his blood. He was supposedly night baker on the ship, so I am not sure if he worked or not. Most of the time I saw him during the day, he was sleeping. He would get up and watch the movie and then lock himself in the bakeshop He said locking the doors was to keep Deck Apes and Boiler Monkeys from stealing his pies and stuff.

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Now I take offense being a fine upstanding Deck Ape. I never stole from the bakeshop. I merely captured cinnamon rolls that had escaped when he wasn’t looking. Being a humanitarian, I gave them a comfortable home. Now them damn Boiler Monkeys would steal their sister in law’s skivvies to use for rags.

I don’t know what Davy did at night. Sometimes I heard laughter coming from the bake shop. I know he was in there with a CS3 named Ike and a DC2 named Rendleman, whom (isn’t it amazing that a Deck Ape knows the proper use of that word) everyone called Renny like the dog Rin Tin Tin. Ike was renowned for manufacturing some quality beverages from fruit peelings, apple juice, and raisins mixed with a little yeast and Davy, the baker, had the yeast. Renny was known for drinking or smoking anything he could get his hands on.

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I am still disappointed that he didn’t choose to invite me.

Davy tells you guys stories about his glories as a Chief and winning a Ney award on a carrier. I tell you, boy, that ain’t the Davy I knew. He was eighteen and would try to drink Olongapo dry. I hauled his young ass back to the boat landing a number of times. And ugly women, that boy was an ugly magnet. His hand is the only thing he ever fucked more than ugly women.

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He frequented those second story wooden bars, you remember the one’s in Olongapo before the town burned down. As drunk as the boy would get, he would have been safer in the ground floor joints. You can only fall off a bar stool there instead of a fucking balcony.

The boy was a good poker player and usually had money to support his twin habits of San Miguel and UBFM’s (Ugly Brown Fucking Machines). I have met his wife. I always figure that he was drunk and didn’t notice that she wasn’t ugly. By the time he sobered up, it was too late. He was already married.

Actually, me and Davy only became friends just a few years ago. Probably because he can’t find any Snipes to pal around with. He was on good terms with the Deck Apes and the Twidgets but he ran with the Machinist Mates and the Boiler Monkeys. Hit a bar in Olongapo and find a bunch of snipes there, you could almost bet that Davy would be around someplace nearby hugged up with the ugliest, oldest woman in the bar.

Davy could have ended up on the Signal Bridge. He could read flashing light! Me, Davy, and a CS2 were sitting on the fantail having a smoke waiting for the 1900 liberty boat. One of the Oilers at anchor was sending a message. Davy was reading the letters and telling us what the tanker was saying. CS2 said, “If they find out you can read that shit, you’ll have the fucking midwatch on the Signal Bridge. I could have ratted him out, but he did fuck up ever now and then and make some pretty good bread and stuff. And maybe he was a bit more generous than I have made him out to be.

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Well, this oughta be enough for a blog post. I gotta start reading the stuff that he is writing to see if he has said anything disparaging about me.

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