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Location:Texas, USA Naturalized US Citizen of Irish extract -   Fixed Wing and Helo trucker.Interests: "The Absurdity of Man". I am a proud supporter of Blarney, Nonsense, and Hooey. I enjoy being a chopper jockey, and trying to figure the world, people and belief systems out. I'm just not very good at it, so it keeps me real busy. I scribble, blog, run this website, mess with rental houses, ride motorbikes, and read as much as I can. I went solo 44 years ago, and I like to say I'm gonna get me a real job one day. When I grow up. ("but not just yet, Lord, not just yet") For my aviation scribbles see www.chopperstories.com.... enjoy! I wish you Peace in your Life. May you always walk with the sun on your face, and a breeze ruffling your hair. And may you cherish a quiet wonder for our awesome Universe. Life isn't always good. But it is always fascinating. Never quit.
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A Blip on the Radar (Part 15B) "Beautiful American Film Star"
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A Blip on the Radar (Part 15B) "Beautiful American Film Star"

"Sexy" by Odegaard


A Blip on the Radar


Part 15B:  Beautiful American Film Star



       If he was disappointed, the Captain never betrayed any sign of it. After a few seconds of contemplation, he merely motioned over the waiter, now doubling as the Captain's personal pimp.
Handing over the keys to his room, he instructed  the waiter to escort the Fair Maidens there, and make sure they were ready for his arrival.  I watched the trio depart as per orders, and found myself studying the Captain, and everybody else.
It was obvious what was going on, and the arrangements had been made in full view and well within earshot of the entire restaurant and bar. It phased the Captain not one bit. Nor did anyone else seem bothered by it. The laughter and the banter continued as before, and the Captain continued to massively entertain. Now he was downing the double Scotches as if they were lemonade. For such a relatively small man, his capacity to absorb copious amounts of alcohol, and retain the sharpness and the focus of his mind, was astounding. It far exceeded my own.  It didn't take much for me, to start descending into a Woozy Happy Place, where the illogical became perfectly Rational.  Hence my attempt to ascertain if my head would fit between the jaws of the carved crocodile.  I was curious. I wished to know. And anyway, so did the Radio Operator. I think him and I had been solemnly discussing it.  On another occasion, in Dover, England, I climbed to the top of a lamp post in that merry state. Unfortunately, it had been a tall one, some thirty feet high. Concerned bystanders had called the cops. Who had called an ambulance. And blocked the main Cheriton High Street. In case the daft drunk, singing Irish rebel songs at the top of his voice, at one o'clock in the morning, would take a massive fall and crack his head...

      With a fine flourish, The Captain downed the last drops from his glass.  It was quite obvious that he was eager to get to the business at hand.  Soon he was on his way, wending his way around the busy tables with scarcely a list to either side.
The party continued on as before, and now we were discussing the Captain's legendary appetite for the fair sex. His crew told endless stories about Chinese, Russian, Taiwanese, American, and Chamorro ladies their fearless leader had bedded.
They talked about it in hushed whispers, as if he might otherwise hear. None of these men were strangers to the delights of concubines, but all seemed to be in awe of the unlimited capacity of this Asian Romeo.
After just under half an hour, he was back. He sat down, quite unruffled, and continued where he had left off. Once again the life and soul of the party, he carried with him an extra zippiness. He was, if that were possible, even more upbeat, bushy tailed and spunky. It was quite obvious to me, and probably everybody else, that he had successfully rubbed the old relic, as the Irish say, dipped the wick, and exercised the pump.  I watched the Heavenly Sisters depart, slightly flushed and tousled looking, but all smiles and waving nonetheless, doubtless carrying a pile of the green stuff back to base. Everybody was happy. Except me. Because I just didn't get it. Understanding, I mean.  Not talking about my holy relic...

      I had to ask. I just had to.  I would have been wise perhaps to have left it alone.
"Captain!"
"Yes, Moggy?"
He was positively genial now. Almost infuriatingly pleased with himself.
"Captain, I have to ask you a question."
He beamed at me.
"Moggy, you ask. You know I always teach you. You know I have Big Head!"
"Yes Captain, I know you are a Big Head.  Please explain this to me: most men, one girl. Why you, TWO girls?"
He looked at me, wisely and knowingly. The table fell silent. Everybody was listening. I formed the distinct impression he was going to explain things to me, in a simplified form, kindly allowing for my limited I.Q.
"Moggy, Moggy.... you know nothing. But is okay. I explain to you everything..."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"I am Captain of ship! So, I have TWO girls. One...port side! One... starboard side!"
He toasted his statement, and his eyes were sparkling.  Goldarn it, I knew full well he was laughing at me, and my simple values. I sighed. Everybody was amused. I tried again.
"Captain! I have number two question!"
"Yes, Moggy, no problem! I teach you! I am Big Head!"
He looked around the table, and everybody nodded approval.
"Yes, Captain, I know you are a Big Head. Please explain to me... these girls.... errrr..... very UGLY! Not like your girls I see in Guam!  Errr...you not find... these girls..... like very old sheep.... try to be young lamb?"
I hesitated to use the word "mutton", thinking he would not know it.
But he got the meaning straight away.
"Ah, Moggy, you mean no spring chicken?"
"Exactly, Captain!"
I could have added comments about the weight, size, the hairs sticking out of their noses, the massive biceps, the red stained teeth, the humongous buttocks waddling dangerously across the room.... but I was loath to go into detail. I was just amazed he could find them.... errr.... worthy of.... his refined taste.
He looked at me, shaking his head.
"Moggy, Moggy, you know nothing..."
I hung my head.
"But is okay.... I teach you everything.  When you are captain of ship, you always take magazine with many photo of beautiful American Film Star..."
I looked blank. He had lost me.
He looked around the restaurant. Leaping to his feet, he marched over to a table with some glossy magazines lying on it. Returning, he stood beside us once again, and opened the magazine out wide. Continuing the narrative, he explained:
"So when you have really UGLY girl.... meo ountie.... no problem!"
He mimed the procedure.
"First you find Beautiful girl in magazine..."
Everybody was entranced.
"Then you put over FACE..."
He mimed the action. Placing the magazine slowly over an imaginary ugly girl's face.
"And then..."
His face lit up. His voice reverberated around the crowded room.
"You fuck like crazy man!"
And standing at the table, he furiously mimed the movement, an unmistakable series of fierce pelvic thrusts, his whole body rocking to the motion...

What could I do or say... I just gave up and toasted him.
The surrounding tables burst into loud applause.
He bowed solemnly in all directions.

My education was once again, advanced to a higher level, Taiwan style.




Francis Meyrick
     (c)


Last edited by Francis Meyrick on May 3, 2011, 4:24 pm
We little humans, hurtling through the Universe on our tiny, pale blue dot, will find few answers to Life's great mysteries. But we should at least find many of the questions. To write is to ask. To seek. To grope. With humility, and humor. Peace.
 
North of 60

That seems like a worthy technique!I might just try it on some northern community where "beautiful american film stars" are also really scarce.Good reading again!     


Posted on Friday, November 20, 2009 at 14:03:43

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