Tonight we sail...

Tonight we sail! Ohhh, the Dutchbag has been landlubbing too long, it's time we stood tall and beat upon our sails with the winds of a thousand bean burritos!

Oh yes, in fact, I did go there.

I apologize, the fumes of a day spent inhaling various thinners has left me in a mood stranger than most. "Mr. DB, I thought I asked you not to put glaze on that chair!" "Did you say that? Guess it's time to visit my friend Mr. Thinner and ask him for an impartial opinion..."

This reminds me of a funny story regarding an island, a beach chair, and 3 different colored solid T's (as advertised in that week's Mervyn's ad).

You see, I was on an island, and I was having a great time, stumbling to and fro while my circulatory system tried to make sense of the various liquids contained in coconuts covered with increasingly more realistic human chest hair. "Dr. Mureau?" I asked, pulling the chest hair off of my coconut and stuffing it down my shirt. I mistook a palm tree for a very tall woman and seductively unbuttoned my hawaiian shirt to show her how much more of a man I was now compared with a couple of hours back. Then I mistook a very tall woman for a palm tree and tried to sneak out a bit of urine while the rest of the island was distracted by Rum-inspired singing.

Fortunately, this tall woman was more distracted than most and didn't notice when my urine began to soak her socks. in fact, i'm pretty sure that she may have shrugged a "what the hell" up to god and added in to the fiesta at hand. I can surely bear no witness to her actually using a proper restroom receptacle in my moments of interaction with or without her.

As I stumbled away, I realized what a cliche i was, the drunk american in the hawaiian shirt, and so I stumbled and stumbled and unbuttoned the hawaiian shirt until it was floating away on a moon reflecting undertow. "The moon!" i cried, accidentally kicking a coconut. I felt so bad that I spent several minutes cradling it telling it that I loved it, that I loved all coconuts, that people make mistakes sometimes and you just have to forgive me, trust me, no i can't expect you to trust me but at least please believe me when I tell you i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry! While I was saying this cradling that I stuck a straw there where the sun don't shine on fallen coconuts, and I sucked out all that I could until I was thrown into the dark and stormy shadows of beginning sobriety. I'm pretty sure the opening chords sound a little bit like the Darth Vader theme song, except without violating any copyright laws because that's just coco-nuts.

I found myself alone, shirtless, cradling a ball of chest hair, and I understood my mission well: secure the mervyn's bag sitting motionless behind the stained wooden bars of the outside bar. I crawled along until I was against the wall beneath the bag, and I sat there motionless until I was sure that I hadn't been spotted. Then, carefully, I pulled the bag through the bars, held it against my bare chest, and ran away screaming. The couple in there new position of ownership based only on 10% of the law stood, shocked, and went running after me. But before they could reach me I hid, i hid like the devil knows how, I hid behind a tall woman with urine in her socks and I dumped the contents of the bag out on the ground to find 3 different colored solid T's on the ground before me. I put on the green one, then the red, and then the blue. Then I ran.

I collapsed about 15 feet away, kissing softly at the shapely feet of a palm tree, when a shadow cast itself upon me, taken from the bright lights of a nearby stage where people danced the same way 7 times each day. The shadow moved darker and revealed itself to be attached to a couple with 3 shirts less than an hour ago.

I stood. It was a sudden movement that left me lightheaded, so I repeated it a few times, then sat.

"We saw what you did to that coconut earlier," said the woman part of the couple. Or perhaps she demanded her shirts back, I'm a tad hazy on this point. The man said the same thing, which is unlikely now that I think about it. They probably both wanted their shirts back.

"These shirts are the only thing that keeps me from being an American cliche," I said, completely forgetting the accent mark (another american cliche I was guilty of). "Here I am, drunk as a South Carolina skunk, unawares of who I am or what I do for a living, beating up coconuts by accident in a hawaiian shirt, and an opportunity comes along for redemption so I took it. Do either of you by chance believe in gob-GLOB-glorbbb." I left my sentence unfinished and let a shower of vomited coconut insides finish my thought for me. I took off the top 2 shirts and held them out for the couple, who exchanged glances, then walked away arguing angrily. "I told you to put the handle of that bag around your ankle!"

I quit. I quit my job as an american cliche trying not to be an american cliche and I went and found a beach chair and slept until the sun came and cleaned up all my rain.

The End.