FEIJOADA, BRAZILIAN BLACK BEAN STEW RECEIPE
1 pound (450 grams) dry black beans
4 Tbsp olive oil
1 pound (450 grams) pork shoulder, cut into chunks
2 large onions, sliced
1 head of garlic, peeled and chopped
1 pound (450 grams) carne seca or corned beef, cut into chunks
1/2 pound (225 grams) fresh sausages, such as chorizo or Italianvsausage
1 pound (450 grams) smoked sausage, such as linguica or kielbasa
1 smoked ham hock or shank
3-4 bay leaves
1 14.5 ounce can (411 grams) of crushed tomatoes
1 Pour boiling water over the black beans and let them sit while you prepare the rest of the stew.
2 Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium-high heat and brown the pork shoulder. When it has browned, remove the meat from the pot, set aside and add the onions to the pot. Brown them, stirring occasionally, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Sprinkle a little salt over the onions and add the garlic. Stir well and sauté 2 more minutes.
3 Add back the pork shoulder, and the other meats and add enough water to cover. Add the bay leaves, cover and bring to a simmer. Cook gently for 1 hour. Drain the black beans from their soaking liquid and add them to the stew. Simmer gently, covered, until the beans are tender, about an hour and a half.
4 Add the tomatoes, stir well and taste for salt, adding if it’s needed. Simmer this, uncovered, until the meat begins to fall off the ham hock, which will probably take 2-3 hours.
Serve with white rice and hot sauce. A classic side dish would be sautéed collard greens.
“8 kilograms. Step off and get back into line. Next recruit in line.”
It’s 430 in the morning, which a handful of us are waiting in line in an empty cold gymnasium. Fat Ass Camp people called us just waiting to get the results after 5 weeks of intense training aka learning how to crawl before we could walk. We spent the first week just learning how to march, which amazed me how I didn’t know my left foot to my right foot. It wasn’t like in the movies, there wasn’t a hardcore drilling instructor screaming at us to get into proper form. Officer Tune was much more efficient when he drilled us. Tune used more psychological methods when he drilled us. For example, he was a big fan of using peer pressure, which it worked 100% of the time. Like the time it actually stopped snowing, which I was relieved but we still had to train outside. I didn’t mind cause at least it wasn’t snowing because it sucked training when it snowed, but I quickly realized I rather work in the snow.
The “log drill” as it was affectionately called is a huge tree log, which it probably weighed over well over a ton and on a good day it took ten men to roll it up on a steep hill under 20 minutes. It worked every muscle burning your legs and arms but the reason it was the favorite for Officer Tune because it would fuck you up mentally as it made the strongest men look like average suckas. In today’s PT it was made to be simple for us as it was a mile group run around the track, a little calisthenics – 100 push ups and 200 sit ups then on to the log drill. On paper it sounded like the easiest task in the world, which only should have taken us under an hour but the Gods were not on our side even though it stopped snowing, it started pour down rain. It wasn’t the fun rain that you played in the schoolyard with your friends, it was the never-ending tsunami type of rain, which made the steep hill into quicksand. We quickly finished the run as well as the calisthenics in a timely manner, then we just had to roll up this huge as log up the hill and we could call it a day, but Officer Tune had something twisted for us up his sleeve. Before we got the drill going we chose the strongest kids from the division to do the Log Drill but Officer Tune stepped in, choosing the weakest people of group to complete the task. As you can guess, the kids from the Fat Ass Camp would have to do drill along with Ralph.
For the last couple of weeks, Ralph, who literally has a lineage of every family member being the military has been the last man in every drill, which includes military studies and combat training. With Officer Tune’s philosophy of finding the weakest link in the chain and making them stronger or find a way to get rid of the weakest part of the chain. Ralph was clearly the weakest part of the chain, which includes the women’s side of the division. He practically failed every evolution making everyone in the division do the exercise over and over again until everyone finished or got it right, which made Ralph the number one target to get hazed the by dudes in the division. As we got our positions on the log, Officer Tune made Ralph be in the center of the log, which is the heaviest part of the tree. Tune wanted to send a message to us as well as Ralph, which he did not want any weakness in his military and it worked. We had 20 minutes to roll up the log but we couldn’t even move the log a foot because of the rain and the mud.
Everyone had to run another mile and more calisthenics than the Fat Ass Camp got back on the log, which we failed again to even move the log one inch. All of us had to repeat the drill all over again, which after 10 rounds in the rain, we were all mentally and physically drained. On the last log push, the rain made the ground so slippery that all of us lost our grip making the log roll down the line, steaming roll Ralph along with it. The whole division stood over Ralph with his face in the mud not feeling sad for him but realizing we do not want to be the weakest part of the chain. I believe this is what Tune wanted all a long. He wanted to show us we couldn’t survive out there without having strong team around us. The only thing I saw that day in the rain covered in mud was Ralph’s days were numbered in the division.
“10 kilograms recruit,” Officer Wang tells me.
“How many pounds is that?” I ask.
“22 pounds more pounds then you should be at your normal weight. We’re going to have to shed those unwanted pounds”
“22 pounds?” All I could think about was pizza and burgers. I would kill for a delicious Twinkie. Fuck Fat Camp, fuck BMI, the metric system and portion size meals. After we get the bad news on how grotesque we all were, we headed back for morning chow with the rest of the division.
“How was Fat Camp Cartman?”
“Fuck you Max.”
Max Sheldon aka Max a Million was a very athletic kid from Chicago, Illinois, who came from a good family and could have played college football but decided to join the military, so he could follow his dream with be part of the Seal team. He was good-looking blonde blue-eyed kid and was first in every drill we did, which made me want to choke the shit out of him. I didn’t even mention his hot blonde high school girlfriend. She had a pair of tits on her that could make any man happy. Plus, she had a petite body but had a great looking ass, which I think everyone in the division jerked it to her every night. I know I did, I even stole his picture of her when he wasn’t looking. She certainly helped me during those cold lonely nights.
“I think you got fatter, since the last time I saw you.”
“I jerked off to your girlfriend last night.”
“You wouldn’t even know what to do if you had her.”
“Of course I do. I would just jerk it on her chest like I do every night.”
“I know you stole that picture you degenerate.”
“How can you expect that hot piece of ass to wait for your dumbass for the next couple of weeks. She’s probably getting dicked down right now by the whole college basketball team.”
“Shut the fuck up. She’s loyal to me. We’re in love.”
“Yeah? It’s like me believing this tasteless oatmeal are slices of bacon, if I just imagined hard enough.”
“Just enjoy your meal fatass.”
I look down at my portioned sized meal and I just imagined as hard as I could that it was a large breakfast meal at iHop but it wasn’t as soon as I took the first bite. But the day was looking up because this was the day we were finally going to do weapons training.
“Listen up recruits. This is not a toy. These are your friends. This is the semi automatic M4 for short and long engagement. Your 12-gauge shotgun for short-range combat and your standard issue 9mm glock pistol. With our help you will be proficient with all these tools and stop any kinds of advance from the enemies attack. These are not toys. Respect them and maybe they will save your live and the lives of your follow men.”
I put that warm grip of the 9mm in my hand, which it felt like it was supposed to be in my hands as I point down range at the target. I fire two short burst then another, controlling my breath acting like I’ve been doing for a long time. I carefully aim at my target as I breath in and breath out as I gently squeeze the trigger shooting my weapon as like a true solider would. I clear my weapon and put the safety on as I pull in my target noticing I shot my target right in the center with perfect groupings.
“You’ve done this before kid?” Gunney asks me in amazement as he looks over my work.
“Nah. I’m just really good at Duck Hunt.”
Gunney doesn’t believe a word I’m saying, “Where you from son?”
“The ghettos of Los Angeles.”
“Well that makes sense in my head now boy. Keep it up and watch out for the kick on the shotgun.”
The Gunney pats me on the back as Max struggles with his weapon looking at me in disgust, which made me finally realize I found something I could be really good at. Unlike Ralph, he just sucked at everything as Officer Tune showed us once again during the gun range.
“Listen up recruits. We only accomplish our mission when the whole team has confidence in each other. The moment when we lose confidence or concentration our enemies are looking to capitalize on the situation. Each one of you must find out if the guy or girl next you are willing to die for you. A confident team is a successful team. With that being said Recruit Dunn step up to the line.”
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. Everyone must have thought as Ralph stepped up to the line at the gun range because we all knew Tune’s mind games, which I really didn’t want to throw up my morning breakfast even though I needed to lose the weight.
“Recruits. Everyone has to pull their weight in this division because in real life combat there will be no reset button. You must trust the man next to you or you will die. Period. Recruit Dunn pick up your weapon and aim it down range. You have ten chances to land on the target and each time you miss the target the whole division had to do 20 Burpees until you actually shoot the target. Copy that?” Officer Tune asks a nervous Dunn with a smile on his face because he knew like we all knew that Dunn had no chance in hitting the target. Tune just wanted to show us once again weakness will not be tolerated in his military.
Dunn picks up the M4 and misses by a mile, which I knew right away I was going to throw up my breakfast in a couple of minutes.
DOWN – UP – DOWN – UP
“Recruit. Set. Fire!”
Dunn once again is nowhere near the target as to do burpee after burpee pouring of sweat on the gun range. Dunn misses all his 10 tries as we complete 100 burpees putting a smile on Officer Tune’s face.
“A chain is no stronger than its weakest link, and life is after all a chain.”
We all stare at Dunn as he finally puts down his weapon, which we all knew we must fix the problem because we’re all tired of this shit.
Defeated and exhausted we all head to chow for Thanksgiving dinner, which didn’t mean I would get off the diet as the Fat Club only got two slices of Turkey and a scoop of mashed potato as I close my eyes trying to imagine I’m about to eat a huge Thanksgiving feast but let’s face it, this fatboy wasn’t going to be satisfied tonight.
As we all go to sleep Thanksgiving night, I jerk it one more time to Max’s picture of his hot girlfriend. Did I mention she had perfect tits? I think I jerked at least three times a day to her and I know half the division also jerked as well along with a couple of girls from the another division touched themselves. She was fucking hot and I had no idea why she was Max because I always thought he was a bitch as we found out later that night.
In the middle of the night, the all lights turn on and the alarms go off as we all get out of our racks trying to figure out what the hell was going on? We run towards the starboard side of the windows watching a bunch MPs taking a dude down on the hill in the snow. I thought to myself that guy looks familiar?
“Dudes, check this shit?” Griff gathers us reading a letter from Dunn’s girlfriend. “Dear Max a Million, hope you are doing well. Just wanted to let you know that I found someone else. We’re getting married next year. I still love you but just as a friend. I hope you are not angry at me but you didn’t expect me to wait for you, did you? Anyways, we’re all proud of you and please don’t try to contact me. Love, Shannon.”
We all start laughing as we rummage through his things finding more photos of his girlfriend for the jerk off bank while the other wolves steal his personal items. I walk back to the window as I make eye contact with Max as he gets escorted by the MPs to the brig as I put the picture of his girlfriend I stole from him on the window making him go ape shit. I thought to myself, “one down, a couple more assholes to go.”
A week goes by without any other incidents we all get a day off from training as we get close in finishing our 9-week training. I was a big fan of shinning my boots because it was a form of mediation for me as I could mentally escape and picture myself back at home smoking weed. But it was interrupted as Griff walks by and spits his Rooster on my shiny boots.
I lose my shit.
I run after Griff clubbing him over the head with the same boot he just spit on. He falls on the ground as everyone stops what they are going just to focus on us. I run towards to the showers waiting for the response from Griff as I grab the steel trashcan from the bathroom hiding in the corner of the showers waiting like a lion for his prey. I turn on all the showers making it hard to see in the room as steam fills the room. Griff comes storming inside the showers as he slips on the wet floors. He tries to get up but I smash once again with the steel trashcan. I stand over him dropping the trashcan next him as I take off my belt.
“Have you’ve met Cindy? Cindy was this slut on my block that could only get off if you restricted her breathing during sex. Sexual Asphyxiation is what they called it. She would tell the dudes who fucked her to take off their belts wrap it around her neck and literally choke to shit out of her as she got off. I think it’s time for you to meet Cindy.”
I walk outside without my belt from the showers wet but victorious as the whole division was waiting outside the restrooms. I stare at the whole division as they make a hole for me to walk through because everyone knew in the division knew now that you shouldn’t fuck around with the fat kid shinning his boots. Needless to say no one fucked with me after that including Griff, which he didn’t even look me during the rest of training. I guess he didn’t like his meeting with Cindy but then again who likes being choked out in the men’s showers with a military belt by a fat kid.
More weeks go by with more training and studying, which we finally made to our final week of boot camp as the Fat Camp meets up again at the gymnasium checking out our results after weeks of intense physical training.
“Congrats Recruit Fu. You shed those unwanted pounds and you’re at your normal bodyweight.” Officer Wang tells me.
I step off the scale feeling proud of myself as we get ready for graduation in the morning. Everyone looks good in the their dress blues as we march to our graduation. Friends and family members watch all of us do our thing as we graduate from Boot Camp throwing our sailor hats in the air. All of us have day off which most spend it with friends or family members before we get picked up by the buses tomorrow morning to get out of Boot Camp. I decided to keep it low-key and just hang in the barracks listening to music reading books. Everyone felt great as they came back to the barracks before curfew as I start to hear rumors of something going down later in the evening. As I feared it had something to do with Recruit Dunn as I over hear someone talk about the plan.
“Socks and Soaps. Dunn is Done.”
Moments later Dunn actually came up to me thanking me for helping him out during the training. He tells me without my help he wouldn’t have survived the training. He was so grateful because his family was so proud of him but I couldn’t tell him about the shit storm that was about to come his way. This was the unwritten rule in military: We take care of all problems in-house. Shut your mouth and never go against the pack.
So, I just wait until it finally went down in the middle of the night like all things fucked up things do. Half the division get out of their racks with soaps in their socks using it as a club as they silently walk up towards Dunn rack. Two recruits go on each side of Dunn’s rack grabbing his blanket holding him down as Griff stands over Dunn’s head removing his belt then wrapping his belt around Dunn’s neck choking him as the rest of the recruits with their soak clubs start beat the shit of Dunn. The whole thing only lasted a minute or two but the damage has been done as Dunn is bleeding and crying in his bed. I turn over in my bed trying to go to sleep stuffing my pillow over my ears so I could stop hearing Dunn cry in his bed.
The lights and alarms go off again in early in the morning, waking all of us as I notice that Dunn wasn’t in his rack anymore. Officer Wang tells us to stand by our racks at attention as Officer Johnson picks out the boys who were part of the hazing of Dunn including Griff. All of them walk towards the MPs who were waiting in the hallways. Officer Wang tells us to get ready and pack up our things to get on the buses soon. I quickly get my shit ready because I want to get out this shit show as soon as possible.
“Attention on Deck!”
Officer Tune walks into the barracks walking down the aisle as we stood in attention as he points me out. “Step into my office recruit.”
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I stare at my shiny boots wondering what the fuck is this about as I walk inside Tune’s office standing in attention in front his desk. I’ve never been inside his office as I stare at his wall with his numerous amounts of military awards and degrees. I also notice a small submarine figure on his desk next to a family photo of his wife and kid.
“At ease recruit. You ever wondered what I did before I became boot camp trainer?”
I just shake my head no still wondering what is this all about, which I hope it wasn’t about the Griff incident in the showers.
“I was a sub engineer. I was the best at it because I loved it. I loved being underwater for months on end. My friends used to call me Tune the Tuna because I loved being the water. But it takes a total on your family because it takes away time that you should be spending with your family. Don’t get me wrong I love my family, but I love the military more. I love it so much I would kill for it,” Officer Tune tells me as he grabs his 9mm from his drawer checking the magazine and clicking it back into the gun. “I’m going to ask you just one time, did you know how lead the hazing of Dunn?”
I look into Tune’ eyes firmly saying, “No, sir.”
Tune puts his glock back into his desk smiling at me. “I like you Fu. You sorta remind of myself because you keep your mouth shut and get your business done quietly. I heard what you did to Griff.”
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I turn white as a ghost.
“I gotta admit I loved it. I had this prick back in the day that kept fucking with me in the sub. He pushed me until I had to show him Laura. Laura is a girl back in my hometown that like to be choked out while she had sex with my friends. I believe she knows Cindy.” Officer Tune smiles at me in amusement. “I proud of you son for being part of my military because you’re a tough little shit and you know the golden rule: Keep you motherfuckin mouth shut.” Officer Tune stands in attention and salutes me as he tells me to get out of his office.
I walk outside his office wondering what the fuck just happened but I couldn’t think about too much because Officer Wang just informed me that the buses are about to leave in twenty minutes and we all have to run two miles to get to the buses. It was a free for all as we all grab our gear, which it all weighed at least over 50 pounds as we storm out of the barracks running for our lives trying to get on the buses to get out of this hell hole.
For the people who couldn’t make it on the buses today, they would have had to wait another week for the buses to return to pick them up again. I decided fuck that as I used my new athletic prowess, which without the extra pounds on my body, I ran towards the bus like I was on fire as I passed up recruit after recruit as I safely get on the bus, huffing and puffing but I was happy as fuck that I made it on the bus. As the buses left the base I looked at our barracks in the horizon that were on that shitty hilltop with that fucked up log, which I could see Officer Tune standing outside the barrack waving at us. I pull down window putting my arm out extending my middle finger in the air. I wonder if I any of us actually found enlightenment. I was just glad to get out that hell but I knew I was just replacing one hell for another. I guess we’re all doomed rolling up a log or rock up a hill until we die. At least I don’t have to see portioned size meals anymore as I eat my Twinkie riding out of boot camp.
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It’s the first week of November, which it’s roughly past midnight when we all get dropped off from the groups of buses to the Great Lakes Naval Station. It’s already started snowing and I only brought my N.W.A shirt, my acid stoned washed jeans and my beloved Jordans. I figured they would provide the uniforms but I was not ready for the fucking cold. I was a Cali kid born and raised, but I guess you can chalk up another bad decision in a string of bad decisions that led me here. To this cold tundra of hell, which as I look around I wasn’t the only one, who made a mistake or was I?
“Oh, man. I can’t believe we’re here. I’ve waited all summer for this. Hi, name is Ralph Dunn.”
Ralph was your typical blue blood military kid. You know his father was a general, his grandfather was a general, his great-great grandparents were slave owners, probably owned a few Jacksons. Basically, this was Ralph’s destiny and by the looks of this skinny kid from Virginia, he probably actually went to R.O.T.C. You remember those dweebs from high school wearing those dumbass uniforms pretending like they were going to save the world but really they just wanted to cut class. I remember they always got picked on by the football team, which I think Ralph sadly knows what I’m talking about because if you would have poked Ralph, cream would have poured out of him. He was a Twinkie, soft as shit. If we had an army made up with men like Ralph then fuck Iraq and the Taliban, I’d be afraid Canada could come down and take us over.
“What’s up? Name is Fu?”
“That’s really an Asian name.”
“That’s kinda racist of you, thanks.”
“Where’s your pea coat? They said in the news we are going to get the worst blizzard this year.”
“My pea – what? Oh, a jacket. Nah, my probation officer said I couldn’t carry any extra articles of clothing because he thought I would hide contraband, which I probably would have. I’m probably going to have to find someone on the outside because I won’t survive a week without a fix.”
“You talk funny.”
“Plus, I don’t think they are going have us doing shit outside because it’s too fucking cold.”
“Maybe you’re right. I got extra knit cap if you want to use it.”
“Fuck yeah. Maybe I can cover my head from this snow and keep my brain warm.”
I start to reach for the knit cap then someone stepped on my fresh new J’s, pushing me to the ground taking the knit cap from Ralph, who was terrified by this towering brute. Ralph let me lay there and watched the brute turn around and start leaving, shouting at us,
“Thanks for the hat fag! And, Bruce Lee, I think the train I was on ran over tracks your grandparents built.”
“They built the tracks in the 1800’s, my grandparents would have had to been 150 when my parents were born.”
I immediately regretted those words.
“Oh so you some history expert huh Chinaman. Well let me teach you about the future. Fuck with me, I will roll over to like a train,” he said before looking at Ralph, “And you fat ass, pretend this is prison, cause I’m making you the bottom bunk bitch of this unit.”
With that he left, Ralph helped me up, frightened.
“What’s a bottom bunk bitch?”
“Never done any time have you Ralph?”
He shook his head no.
“A bbb is the lowest bitch there is in the cell block or in this case the unit. It means if he wants your food he gets it, if he wants you to do his chores you do it and again if this were jail, he would turn you around and fuck your ass anytime he felt the urge.”
I could see the fright on Ralph’s face.
“Look on the bright side, I don’t think he wants to fuck you in the ass.”
“I should go report him.”
“No Ralph that would be the worst decision. No one likes a rat. If I was you I’d keep my mouth shut and just deal with him.”
“So what do I do?”
Before I could answer, a shadowy figure made his way through the young recruits, moving to the front. I quickly stood with Ralph and the others. Two other naval officers stood next to the shadowy figure staring at us.
All of us stopped and played a game of freeze, which I wasn’t playing because I was actually freezing my balls off.
“Put your stupid arms by your body and stand up straight like your mommy told you,” the Asian officer amusingly orders us. “Get into a line and columns stupids,” he continues to shout at us as he forms us into columns.
Soon we actually looked like we were forming some kind of semblance of a military unit. As the two officers were correcting our stances, I could see the shadowy figure up front studying each of us.
“Stand tall and straight. Eyes forward. Palms down by your body. Do not moove. Do not moove!”
The two naval officers made sure we were all in proper form before handing back the reins to the figure. He stood there silently in the cold, acting like he felt no chill. Fuck he was a tough bastard, or a robot.
It had to be past one o’clock in the morning but I couldn’t move to check my watch as the snow was really coming down on my cold wet head. We all stare at the officers in our perfect columns wondering what the hell did we get ourselves into.
“Do you know what discipline is? The dictionary describes it as an activity, exercise, or a regimen that develops or improves a skill. Which is true, but it is much more than that. A man without discipline is only half a man, which the officers and I do not want in our military. We only want complete men and women, disciplined, in our fine naval military. Tell me, do you want to be in my military?”
The figure spoke in a calm tone, making the words he said even more terrifying. Most of the girls and boys in the column shouted, “Sir, yes, sir!” I just shook my head no, trying to rub my balls for any kind of heat between my legs. I stood there shaking from the cold wondering if you’re penis could be frozen off.
“I don’t believe you,” the figure asked us.
“SIR, YES, SIR!”
We all shouted not because we were all pumped up by his discipline speech, well maybe gullible Ralph was but most of us were willing to say whatever we could to get out of this fucking weather.
“Now, do you want to be in my military?”
“SIR, YES, SIR!”
We all shout in unison, which actually put a smile on the figure. It gave me a glimmer of hope, maybe we could actually get out of this shit weather and get indoors to get warm.
“I’m very glad to hear that from all of you,” he tells us with mischievous smile on his face. “I believe in discipline so much that I think it can move mountains and change men into something more than they have every imagine in themselves. Making them better changing them into something great. Eastern monks have such great discipline they spend years meditating hoping it leads them to discover enlightenment. They would endure physical and emotional pain trying to be perfect. This is what I can offer you, something more than you see in yourselves right now. I will push you to the limits to find the real you. You can fall many times but you will always get up because you will endure. You are fighters. I only want fighters in my military. After a couple of weeks we will turn this Bad News Bears into the fighting machines. Also, maybe in the end you’ll feel enlightened.”
Who gives a fuck about the monks, I thought in my head as I could feel the snot in my nose start to freeze. Fuck enlightenment, my dick is going to fall off!
“If you’re not feeling what I’m saying then you need to say something right now, so we could get you out of here immediately.”
It’s dead silent. No one says a word or a noise.
“Perfect, my name is Tune, Petty Officer 1st Class Tune, and for the next few months I own each and every one of you. You are boys now, but when I’m done with you, you’ll be twice the man you thought you could be. You will be a killing machine. God help those towel head fuckers when I unleash you on them.”
I just kept thinking. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. Did I just miss my chance to get out of this hell hole?
“I’m going to ask one more time? “Do you want to be in my military?”
“SIR, YES, SIR!” We all shout this time in anger.
“I am your lead instructor in this academy, which means while you are here, I am god.”
God, great, I could tell he was gonna be a great leader.
“I will be guiding you for the next 9 weeks. This is 2nd Class Petty Officer Wong and 2nd Class Johnson, both of them will show you the next evolution and congrats to all of you. We will all reach enlightenment together.”
Officer Tune pleased with his performance starts walking towards to the barracks humming Frank Sinatra’s “My Way.”
“At ease, recruits. It means you can relax. My name is 2nd Class Petty Officer Wong and this is 2nd Class Johnson. Before we let you in our military we want to see what you are made of first.”
We all start looking at each other wondering what they are going to have us do?
“We are going to do a little PT (Personal Training). We’re going to show you how to do the Furpees?”
“Furpees?” One of the recruits asks?
“Yes, Furpees,” Officer Wong says again.
What the fuck are furpees I thought?
“Burpees motherfuckers!” Female Officer 2nd Class Johnson shouts at us. “Recruit step out.”
A female recruit steps out of line and turns to face the group.
“This is how you perform a proper burpee. When we say “Down”, you go down to do a push up, then when we say “Up” get up on your feet fast.”
She uses the recruit to show us how it should look like then we were on the punishment train.
“Thank you Officer Johnson for showing us how to do a proper Furpees. Now before we can take you out of the cold to go indoors to the warm heat, we must figure out the chinks on the armor. We must find the weakest links, isolating them and make them stronger. So, in order to get inside to the warm building, everyone must perform One Hundred Furpees.”
My dick just fell off.
“Did he just say we got do 100 Burpees to get out of this fucked up weather?
“Everyone must do 100 Furpees together or you will not complete the evolution and you will spend the night out here until you complete the task.”
“Also, if you quit or walk away from this task. You will be labeled as a deserter and be thrown in the brig until your enlistment is over, ” Officer Johnson adds.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I just realized I did miss my chance to get out of this shit hole. I fucking hate the snow!”
“FURPEES! When I say down, then up, you call out the number of Furpees. Ready? Down…Up!”
It’s been over hour and half since we’ve been outside in the cold before we started doing PT, so needless to say all of us were not warmed up properly. All us huffed and puffed to the mid point of the evolution when one of the female recruit, who was standing in front of me started to pee in her pants and the pee started to run off where I was performing my “Furpees.” I immediately got Officer Johnson’s attention, waiving her down.
“Ma’am she needs your help.” I point at the female recruit who just pee’d on herself and all over where I was standing.
“Do I look like your mother recruit?!” Officer Johnson asks me getting in my grill. “I work for a fucking living. You address me accordingly recruit!”
Officer Johnson did not look like my mom only because my mom is Asian. Officer Johnson did look like she worked in the post office because you could picture her going insane and wiping out a whole postal office. She must have been only five feet tall but she was intimidating as fuck like a pit-bull with a long leash ready to snap your neck.
“Yes, Petty Officer Johnson!”
“It’s just a little pee. You should be happy, it’s the warmest thing you’ll feel tonight. Get down there now recruit!”
DOWN – UP – DOWN – UP
Forty minutes later all us finally completed our task, which from a far you could barely see us because we were in a fog of our own breaths as all of us were heaving for oxygen trying to catch our breathes as lactic acid filled out muscles. Most of us were passed out on the snow-covered ground as I clutched my acid stoned jeans trying to not pass out of exhaustion. I take a look up at the barracks sitting on top of the hilltop and I could see Officer Tune looking at us in amusement. It seemed like he had a smile on his face. But before I could take a second look to confirm.
“Attention recruits! Fall into a single line into the barracks. Once you get inside turn right and follow the instructions.”
After two and half hours in the snow we were finally inside the barracks. Standing close to each other in line as the girls were in one line and the boys were in the other line following each other into a room. I couldn’t see what was going on ahead of me because the officers made us stand so close to each other making it hard to see what was going on. Just trapped tuna in a can I guess. I was just thinking maybe they were going to give us clothes so we can get out of this cold wet shit or maybe they were going to give us warm food and drinks. Either way was I glad we weren’t going to exercise in the snow ever again because that shit was insane and inhumane. As I get closer to the front of the line I could feel the anxiety from the guys ahead of me as I could start to hear cries and yelling from the girls line as they turn into the room. Immediately, I thought this is not going to end up well for me. I just kept thinking, “Oh, shit. Are they going to castrate us?” I love my dick as you could probably tell even though it has always gotten me into more trouble than it’s worth.
I was next up in the line when I get ordered to get inside the room, to which in my surprise it was just a small room with a barber chair and a dude with scissors and a hair clipper. A wave of relief came over me as a clutch my balls and dick. I confidently walk over to the chair and sit down.
“Just a little off the stop, and maybe a line up on the side dog. I got a hot date later tonight with girl with a bladder problem if you know what I’m talking about.”
I put my index finger though a circle I made on my other hand to jokingly show the barber trying to make him smile but by the look on the barber’s face, it looked like he’s been going at this for hours. Shaving jerk after jerk and he’s probably heard every corny line about hair and now he’s looking to finally kill someone. He shoves me down on the chair and puts on the same apron he used on the rest of recruits beginning to scalp me like General Custer. I could see my hair fall through my fingers and by the time it was over I knew I lost my “Joey Tribbiani” bangs and my life has totally changed forever.
I wondered how someone joins the military and their job becomes shaving recruit’s heads. Probably the safest job in the whole military, I realized I should have asked how he became a barber and does he need an assistant.
Looking down at my poor hair on the floor, I see a pair of shiny boots step over them, Petty Officer 1st Tune has arrived.
He looks at me in approval as he gets closer, he reaches out to rub my new bald head slowly but then forcefully grabs the back of my neck whispering to me, “are you ready for enlightenment?”
Photo Credit: The Guardian
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“Jesus. What did you eat last night?” Skuba asks me as I throw up in a wastebasket.
“Nothing but the best for me. Had the military’s finest chow this morning.” Telling Skuba wiping the puke off my face.
“How are you even sick right now? The waves are so choppy right now. They’re like 5 feet tall, they’re not even affecting the boat.” A confused Skuba asks while he stares at radar screen with his headphones on.
“It feels like I’m one of those fucked Magic Mountain rides that shoots all the way up then drops all the way down as it repeats the process over and over again.”
“You know what I had for breakfast this morning? Last night’s enchiladas, just heated those bitches up the microwave added salsa and spicy Velveeta cheese dip, sprinkled hot Fritos over that shit, it was the bomb!”
I grab the wastebasket again putting my whole head inside as I throw up again.
“I think I need another trash can. This one is getting full.”
“You should have taken that Dramamine before we sailed out. Unknown contact Starboard side bearing 060.”
“Fuck no. I’m not weak.”
“Clearly you are. You’re not an expert sailor like I am.”
“You’ve been on a boat once and it was a cruise liner.”
“I’m a Mer-Man. I was made for the sea. This is why I eat all that tuna.”
“You eat Tuna in a bag. Can we not talk about seafood right now?”
“Starboard side lookout can you ID the unknown contact at 030?”
I start to get mesmerized by all the bright lights inside CIC. “I think I’m going to throw up again.”
“Can you throw up on the screen? I want to get off this monitor, this is too much responsibility for me?”
“Combat – Starboard side lookout. On the binos, it appears to be a cargo/ fishing vessels. It’s flying Canadian flag and the crew members are working outside. Copy that.”
“Copy that. Canadian Al Quida fishermen are on the starboard side. Let’s light those motherfuckers up.”
“You’re an idiot. There are no Canadian fishermen terrorists.”
“Bro, you never know homie. They might be hiding WMDs inside the fish. We gotta attack them before they attack us. It’s called a preemptive attack, dog.”
“Okay, George W. What are they going to do throw fish at us?”
“Shit, don’t matter what they throw at us. We got Sea Wiz.”
Sea Wiz as we called was a close-in weapon system, which is used for detecting and destroying short-range incoming missiles and enemy aircraft. It was our last line of defense between the enemies attack, including Canadian fisherman terrorists.
“Starboard side lookout – Combat. They got a hull number on that badboy?”
“Starboard – Combat. Yeah it BZ1569.”
“Hey, McQuizzy. If you’re not to busy throwing up all over the place can you give me any Intel this high value target on my right side? If it’s too much to ask?”
“Copy that dick. Give me sec.”
“Bring that trashcan with you. I don’t want to be paying for any military equipment you throw up on.”
I grab the little wastebasket as I go check on the computer for any Intel on the vessel.
“Hey Captain Moron. That’s a fueling tank. We’re supposed to refuel with her in an hour.”
“Damn it. I was going get my Purple Heart.”
“I don’t they give to retards.”
“Why do they always call boats female?” Aren’t there gay or transgender boats out there?”
“I’m going with the don’t ask or tell policy.”
OS Chief Walker walks into CIC acting really irritable as he plays with his thick porno style mustache.
“Guys, I need both of you guys on the flight deck in a hour to help with the refueling. I know you guys haven’t slept in two days ever since that incident and we are short staffed but they need every man who’s available. I tried to make the IT guys do it, but those candy asses with their precious jerk off hands can’t get their hands dirty. Fucking nerds! So, when you get relieved in hour by the other watch, head out there on the flight deck with overalls and pretend like you’re actually give a shit about job. I’m going to my rack and try to jerk one off before chow. Also, change out the fucking air fresheners in here. It smells like fucking Tijuana in here, you dirty bastards!” OS Walker tells as he leaves CIC.
We both start laughing hysterically then both of us got serious.
“Fuck this sucks.”
“At least were not going to going to the weather decks going deck maintenance.”
“That’s dumb as hell as well. I mean its seawater. It’s supposed to fuck up shit. Do we have to do maintenance while we’re at sea?”
“That really sucked being out there when it was 100 degrees but we did get to see a crazy ass view,” Skuba tells me while he fixes his radar.
It was a crazy ass view as Skuba and I were out on the decks a couple days ago going maintenance on the decks, just hammering and chiseling on the hard floors both of us wondering what the hell we are going this for?
“Why do we have to fix this shit again? Does the enemy even fucking care about our weather decks?” I shout at Skuba as I wipe the sweat in my eyes.
“No, bro. It’s all about discipline and being a team member.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Okay, the Captain sometimes comes out here to smoke a fag and he doesn’t want to see shitty ass decks on his fucking boat because he’s an obsessive control freak.”
“Hey, isn’t that Clint?”
I look up of where Skuba was pointing noticing it was Clint on the edge of the flight deck? Clint was just standing alone staring at the ocean with a concerned look on his face.
“What the fuck is he doing?” I ask Skuba.
“Maybe he’s going to swim back to the main land to get back with his wife.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s kinda funny. It’s only took a month and the bitch has slept with everyone on the Lacrosse team in her college.”
“How the fuck do you know do that?”
“He told me while we were playing Madden a couple days ago.”
“Fuck I got a big mouth.”
“It’s fine bro. It’s our job to know this.”
“We’re only supposed to monitor for unusually activity or if they’re giving out any sensitive information. Not know if they’re wife is a big whore or not.”
“Hey, man. You don’t gotta feel sorry for him or yourself. We all knew what we signed up for when we signed on the dotted line.”
I was astonished because Skuba was right. We all knew what the risks were when you signed up for the military. Skuba talks a lot of crazy shit but sometimes he just says shit that just makes sense, but most of the time it’s just crazy shit.
“Dolphins!” Skuba screams out in enjoyment like a ten-year old boy.
I look over the side wondering where they were going, and then I see Clint jump of the flight deck like it was nothing. From the flight deck to the water had of been hundred feet or more, which you could survive from but you could have died from the shock or the jellyfishes. Those fucked up ass jellyfishes. The Man Over board alarm goes off as Skuba and I run back to CIC to tell the Chief but Walker was already on it as they turn the boat around deploying the rescue team to pick up Clint. Apparently, he stuck the landing and didn’t break anything except for his ego as we saw him in the mess hall going to medic to get evaluated as the rumors were circling around the ship about his whore of wife, who is now divorcing him. I’m not even sure why they needed to evaluate him. He’s life is falling apart and he wants to go back home. I guess after a couple months out here you just get sick of the sea and you just want to go home. As Skuba eloquently puts it, “damn it, we should have bet if he would survived the fall.”
But I guess we all have bills to pay and a job is job, so after days on watch not getting any sleep because we were on suicide watch, Skuba and I were on the flight deck in our overalls doing our duty, pretending that we actually gave a fuck.
“All time Batman.” Skuba asks me as he lies down on his back at the refueling party.
“Are we talking about the tv series or the movie series? Also, why is it called a refuel party? Not one motherfucker out here is having fun.”
“Movie Series. It’s a refuel party because they need a group of dumb motherfuckers to do all the manual labor.”
“There has to be a better aka smart way then shooting a line at a boat then hauling it in as they attach the big ass fuel line on it. The probability of this going tits up is high as fuck.”
“Jesus, I wish I was high as fuck right now. I’ll go first Michael Keaton.”
“He was pretty good.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? He is the gold standard of Batman.”
“Listen, I’m not saying he sucked. He was really good as Batman but I am really fond for Val Kilmer.”
“I don’t even know you anymore,” Skuba tells me sitting up shaking his head at me as they whistle us to line up for the refueling.
The tanker has to be close enough to us so the refueling line is nice and even so when they transfer fuel to us there isn’t any leakage because it might start a fire and blow our asses out of the water, which is another reason why this procedure if not done correctly could be really dangerous for our crew and theirs. Thank god they chose Skuba and I to be part of this highly important task.
“Val Kilmer was a joke. He almost killed the Batman franchise.”
The tanker blows its whistle as we prepare ourselves as they shoot out their refueling line thru a median size ball.
“Are you kidding me? George Clooney was the joke, in that pansy ass purple underwear,” I tell Skuba as we both duck and cover as the refuel ball line gets shot out of the tanker and lands safely on our flight deck. Everyone at the refueling party grabs the refueling line, pulling the rope in trying to get the refueling hose close to us.
“George had a lot on his plate coming right after the great Michael Keaton. What did you expect? I think his performance was a fresh of breath air and gave a new dimension to the role.” Skuba confidently tells me as we all pull in the fuel line getting it connected with our fuel line as the refueling party leader tells us to relax and wait around until the transfer of fuel was complete.
“Fine. George was a good Batman. I’m just saying Kilmer was better than all of them.”
Skuba is visibly upset now pacing back and forth on the flight deck beside himself.
“You know I’m the biggest Batman aficionado on this boat and maybe biggest fan in the ocean right now.”
“Pacific and Atlantic?” I sarcastically tell Skuba.
“You can add the motherfuckin Arctic and the Indian Ocean to that shit. You want to see my Batman underwear?”
“I never want to see your underwear! Every time when I wake up you always roll out of your rack ass first,” I tell Skuba as I notice the tanker was suspiciously really close to us.
“I’m taking off my overalls and showing you right now.”
“Hey, idiot isn’t the tanker really close to us,” as we both look up then the collision alarm goes off.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
“What the fuck do we do?” Asking Skuba as he already curled up into a ball in the fetal position like a baby.
“Brace for impact!” Someone yells.
There was nothing around me, so I just grabbed a piece the flight deck and grabbed my balls, hoping this wasn’t the end, cursing the Gods, wondering why the hell I was actually out here?
“I fucking hate the sea!” I scream out.
“Michael Keaton is the best Batman ever!” Skuba screams out has we hit the fuel tanker making this huge crunching noise that echoed through the ocean as everyone gets thrown off their equilibrium as we all ducked and covered, then a huge blast went off in front of the boat.
I finally had the balls to look up and noticed a huge black smoke cloud in front of our boat. Apparently, the fuel tanker hit us right on our bow, which is close to CIC and close to our berthing department.
“If you aren’t hurt, we need people in front of the ship immediately!” A marine sergeant screams to us.
Then the fight or flight gear kicks in as I say fuck it running with the sergeant along with a couple of shipmates as we get inside the ship, noticing there was water on the deck and most of the compartments had water but it wasn’t too serious because the collision team immediately closed off and made the compartments that were damaged water tight. As I go through compartment after compartment, I finally make it to the front of ship stopping at CIC noticing that everyone inside didn’t look to concerned to what just happened as I see Chief Walker with his feet up on the combat console chewing on a stogie playing with his mustache.
“Fucking idiots,” Chief Walker says.
“Is everyone in here okay?” I ask people on watch in CIC.
“Has it already been 12 hours?
“Then fuck off!”
“It sounds you like guys are okay.”
I make it past navigation finally making to the bow, where a couple of shipmates where clearing the debris as people in charge were accessing the damage. I get close to the damage looking across at the tanker, which there was a huge hole that looked like Pacman took a bite out of their ship as they slowly moved away from us. They got the worse of it but we had significant damage as well as I could see the bottom of the bow that wasn’t even there anymore, which was funny cause I could see compartment that was close to ours that was comprised. From far away our ship looked like it was a shark above water from the damage it took from the tanker.
No one died, a couple of got a few scratches and bruises but it could have been worse. It was amazing that the fuel didn’t catch on fire and both our ships blew up. I mean there could have been a million things that could have gone wrong, but we ended up walking away from it, even though we would had to go to Hawaii to spend a month or two for repairs on the boat, which wasn’t that fucking bad but unfortunately our cool ass captain lost his command of the ship even though it wasn’t his fault but I guess the captain always goes down with the ship.
I stare into the beautiful Pacific Ocean horizon with the dolphins playing next to us having not a care in the world as two tug boats assist us on our way to Hawaii with a little smoke and a little breeze through our boat but we’ve all gained a better appreciation for the sea as well as life. A bunch of us could have died that day but sea had other plans for us. The sea giveths and the sea takeths, but today she was on our side as I stare at the Sun fall into the ocean with clear skies, wondering what my love ones were doing right now as we were hundreds of miles away from home heading to our unknown future but at least I was finally getting my sea legs underneath me. Then I hear Skuba, I spot him just in his black Batman underwear eating tuna holding magazines, shouting at me at the top of his lungs beneath from the damaged bow standing near our birthing compartment.
“Bro! My Batman comics and Penthouse magaz are fine. Woooo! This is a great view. I told you Michael Keaton was the best Batman ever!”
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We’re the Worst – a short story from an upcoming book called Recoil: From Baghdad to Beverly Hills, the Making of a Paparazzi from Rory Waltzer & Ryan Fu
It was a balmy and humid night in Camp Freedom in Iraq. The temperatures were dropping during the night but not that much because it was still over 100 degrees. Skuba, Seth and I are all on watch because we are getting punished for playing Russian roulette with our M4s during another drunken night while on base.
“I would give my left nut for a slice of goat pizza,” Skuba says.
“How do you not have cancer by now?” I say.
“Hey, what are your guys thoughts on the Spice Girls? I mean if you had the chance to be one of them, who would it be?” Seth asks us on the walkies.
“Oh my god, any kind spice on a pizza besides Mohammed’s sweaty balls would be awesome,” Skuba says.
“I think I would be a mixer of Posh and Sporty Spice because I’m fashionable but active,” Seth says turning his M4 into a fashion statement.
“I hope a sniper just shoots me between my eyes,” I mutter to myself while I get on the binos looking for any suspicious activity.
I stand on top of North tower of the main wall that is 15 feet high made out of pure concrete that surrounds the whole base. Seth is on the South side and Skuba is in between with the sniper rifle going North to South. It’s the wall, a couple of gates and a few barricades that is stopping any would be invaders coming through our camp. Usually, I would be totally confident for the men, who were on watch but tonight is not one of those nights.
We were the guys on watch that was responsible for everyone’s safety, which I’m not sure we were up for it because lets face it, we don’t have the best track record for being the “best we could be.” There are hundreds of soldiers and insurgents out in this desert, which our best doesn’t equal their worst, that’s how bad we are. If the world really was depending on my crew to save them, then there is no hope because we are the worst.
Seth confirms my notions about us as he tells me he forgot his ammo for his gun because he wanted to look good on watch.
“What do you mean, you don’t have any ammo?”
“I was rushing to get on time and I just forgot.”
“You don’t carry extra ammo?”
“No. Too many accessories is awful for this uniform,” Seth tells me.
“Did you just fucking say that?”
“What if we get busted dick?”
“You know what would happen to us if the Captain found out?”
“Dude, shut up. I think I see something out there,” Seth tells me.
“South side my 10-20, 2 o’clock.”
“What is it Specialist?”
“I’m not sure asshole, you’re the spotter.”
“Skuba, head over to the South side get eyes on.”
I don’t call it in because I have to make sure it’s not any threat to us because we are already in trouble with the Cap. We don’t want to look more incompetent than we already were. So, I sprint over to the South side hoping that Seth is just losing his mind and this wasn’t a real threat because we are not ready for this shit.
“Skuba, you got eyes on?”
“Wait one. There’s definitely something in the brush. Moving and a shiny object that kinda looks like an RPG?
“Say again. Confirm you last.”
“Serg. There’s something definitely moving out there and it looks like an RPG.”
I pick up the pace heading towards to the South side.
“Fu, it’s moving quickly towards us. What the fuck do you want us to do?”
“Bro, it’s 50 yards and closing in make a call.”
“Fuck it. Execute Specialist.”
As I get closer to Seth and Skuba on the South side when I hear the .50 cal round echo around the base.
“Target is down.”
I finally reach Seth and Skuba I see them high-five each other looking like those dorks I saw in all those military propaganda commercials telling us that we can all be what we want to be if we just signed our lives away.
I quickly get on the binos to see their kill. I scan the brush to see what Skuba put the hammer down on.
“What’s up bro, think I’ll get that sniper medal?” Skuba asks me feeling confident on the kill.
“Yup. You’re our number one goat killer.” I tell Skuba still looking thru the binoculars.
“What?” A confused Skuba tells me. “A goat. What about the RPG?”
“You mean the goat’s shiny bell. Unless it has a ton of C4 in it, I don’t think it’s going to kill us.”
We all stand there, some laugh the rest are quiet.
“We’re going to eat it right?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You know what, I change my mind. I would be Baby Spice because I’m cute as a button.”
“Seriously, we’re going to eat the goat right?”
“We’ll never get off this wall.”
We were lucky it was an unarmed goat, because honestly I didn’t see us holding this post against actually human beings. They say you get the real test of what you are made of when you have your first combat, but I didn’t need any insurgents firing rockets at us to know where we ranked. I came to the desert thinking all I wanted was to see action, to actually fight and being honest, I wanted to kill a motherfucker. I mean if you ask every soldier in uniform what he really wants to do, half of them will say kill somebody and the other half will be lying.
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As potheads we were starting to feel paranoid that security was watching us so we decided to see a show and maybe I could pull myself together. We check out the penguin and otter show, sitting at the back of the show on the top steps trying to avoid other people but apparently the show is really popular as it quickly fills up with kids and adults. Before the show starts the boys tell me to drink as much water to get me out of this funk I was in but I knew there was no way out of this hell except to ride it out.
Everyone was having a good time as the show started. But for myself was just trying to keep it together, but I was nowhere near in a good place because I was getting sicker and sicker.
Then, I looked up at the show staring at the otter performing on stage. The otter stopped whatever he was doing and started talking to me.
“Duuudddee, you are fucked up,” as the otter tells me in his cute little costume.
“You’re not going to make it.”
At the really strange moment, Hoover turns to me to ask me if I was alright. Then the floodgates opened up as I started to throw up chunks of my lasagna right in front of my feet as people tried to move away. Thankful, I didn’t hit anyone with my projectile vomit.
The sound I made while I was vomiting was so vile, it echoed throughout the show as it literally cleared the rows in front and behind us. The show finally ended as I sat in my own pool of lasagna vomit with my head in hands feeling awful. The boys quickly decided to take me out of the park, which it was amazing I even got back to the car because it’s a fucking maze when you’re high as a kite trying to get out of an amusement park. I mean is it that hard to put up big ass exit signs for stoners.
We finally got back to the car but I was even sicker. Before getting into the car I threw up some more near the car but we parked so close to the park near a roller coaster, which every time the kids went down the ramp, I unwittingly threw up simultaneously making the boys laugh hysterically.
I finally climbed into the truck to sleep it off but the boys decided it to light another one up before they got back into the park. They finished the J leaving me to my misery in the car. They left a couple of windows down so I could get some fresh air, but the stank from the cush we were smoking so smelly it attracted an uncover cop and Sea World security.
I hear a knock on my window, where I laid my head down seeing see a police badge.
I calmly stumble out of the car as the UC asks me if was alright. I tell him that I was cool leaning against the car because I couldn’t stand up straight. The UC smells the pot as security starts rummaging through car finding Mullen’s bag full of goodies. The UC asks me if this was mine and I tell him it wasn’t, which was the truth. But I was starting to notice he was getting angry and he wanted the rest of the boys to come back to the car, which I did calling them back to the car. I stumbled back into the car to sit down because the UC finally noticed that I couldn’t stand up anymore. As I sat there, I could hear them outside making jokes like, “Jesus, what did this dude eat?”
In the corner of my eye see Mullen but not Angello. Mullen walks directly to the UC as the he points to his bag asking if it was his, which Mullen said it was his showing him his medical card. The cop tells Mullen that I got into his bag and started doing drugs, which Mullen started to point to me telling me,
“Bad Fu. How could you do that? You know you shouldn’t do that,” like was a dog that ripped up his favorite newspaper.
The UC gives back Mullen his bag telling him that we need to leave the park or get arrested. So, we decided to get out of Dodge as the cop tells me that was I banned from Sea World but the only thing I was worried about was potential throwing up in my own truck. We pull out of Sea World picking up
Angello outside the park. “Bro, what happened,” a worried Angello asks.
“We can’t go back into the park or we’ll get arrested and Fu is banned forever,” nonchalantly tells Angello lighting up other dobbie before leaving the park.
“That’s fucked up, I didn’t get to fuck any dolphins,” as Angello takes a puff on the joint.
As we were leaving Sea World, I could see another otter show going on, looking up seeing the same otter waving goodbye to me as I fall asleep in my drug induce coma.
I wake up in a hotel room, where the guys were walking in telling me they were shocked I was still alive, asking me if I wanted to some grab dinner to which I responded,
“Sure, I’m fucking starving I can eat an Otter. Anything but fish because that’s fucked up.”
That was the last time, I went to Sea World but it wasn’t the last time that I ate fish because I am Asian for fuck sake, I grew up on sardines and SPAM.
Photo Credit: San Diego Times
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For normal people who celebrate they usually know their limits, stopping before they get too fucked up. This is not one of those stories.
It was Comic Con weekend in San Diego, which I decided to bring the whole team down to party and work, but mostly to party. We all decided to show up a day earlier to hangout at Sea World in which I don’t have the best track record over there. Last time I was there I almost crashed into the gates after a night of drunken debauchery, but in my defense I thought they were open at 3 in the morning.
We had an easy ride down from Los Angeles, arriving at Sea World right before lunch. This time I didn’t almost crash into anything as we pull into the parking lot. I decided to eat an edible candy thirty minutes before we got there but it had not kicked in yet, so I ate another edible candy. Don’t let the word “candy” fool you these weren’t after school snacks I was eating. They were highly potent drugs I was taking for cancer patients, which the last time I checked, I wasn’t going through chemo but I did suffer from being an idiot. So, after we got our tickets we decided to go back to the car to smoke out before we got into the park. At the car, the effects of the first edible candy I ate, finally kicked in as we light up having a good time.
I was feeling groovy so we all decided to light up another J as the whole crew were having a good time.
“I want fuck dolphin in da ass,” Angello says to us holding the joint.
“I’m pretty sure they don’t have asses,” Mullen says rolling up another joint.
“I’m just so horny,” Angello says grabbing his crotch.
“You’re disgusting,” Hoover tells Angello as he looks over at the Sea World Map.
“Come over here Hoover. I want to fuck you in da ass,” as Angello tries to grab Hoover from behind.
I grab the joint taking the last puff telling the boys
let’s get the fuck out of here and get into the park. As we walk towards the park, Mullen hands me an edible lollipop so I can suck on while we’re checking out the park.
So, kids if you’re counting that’s three edible candies and two joints under an hour, plus I hadn’t eaten anything all day, which equals an interesting afternoon.
As we were walking around the park I was still feeling groovy but now I had a heightened sense of my surroundings as I was starting to feel a bit paranoid. So, I tried to keep calm telling myself, it’s just the drugs making me feel paranoid, everything is alright, but of course everything was not alright.
As the day went on, the higher I got as I started to feel like I was walking on clouds trying to keep my shit together but I was starting to suspect the boys were keep any on eye me even though they we’re also high as shit. As we wait for the next Shamu show we decided to check out other whale exhibits.
I pull away from the boys walking ahead of them into the whale exhibit, checking out different mammals. As I was checking out the exhibit, a ghost like dolphin came out of nowhere, swimming towards me, then stopping right in front me as I place my face right against glass. The dolphin wasn’t actually a dolphin but a Beluga whale, which are apparently really social to humans. This one absolutely knew I was high as shit and didn’t mind telling to get my shit together.
“Bro, you are high as shit aren’t you,” the Beluga tells me as I look around if anyone sees what’s going down. “Dude, you need to eat something homie.”
I stop looking around telling the whale, “okay.”
“But don’t eat fish cause that’s fucked up,” as the Beluga waved goodbye to me, swimming back in darkness.
I finally tell the boys I was getting too high and I needed to get something in my stomach before I lose my shit. We find an Italian restaurant close by and I order a lasagna trying to eat it as quick as possible but it was already too late, as I was starting to feel sick. Angello suggests that I need to walk it off and start moving around but now you could visually see I was getting too fucked up as I was stumbling around the park.
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“I’m never drinking again,” said Seth.
As we tried to get our shit together after another night of debauchery with the crew inside C.I.C (Combat Intelligence Central) still pretty drunk from the night before. Good thing C.I.C was a dark place with the latest high-tech gadgets monitoring terrorist activities around the world but I was just super glad there wasn’t any bright lights to show any incriminating evidence on our faces.
“Seth, do you have a black eye?”
“What? When the hell did that happen.”
“It was probably when you got punch by that gay Arabian guy at that super gay club,” said Skuba.
“What?” from a very confused Seth.
“Listen. I did want tell you but when you get black out drunk you kinda turn gay, which is cool, I mean we don’t ask but don’t tell anyone.”
“Yeah, you pulled us into this real dark club with bunch of Arabian dudes making out then you got into fight with this really hairy dude with his shirt off talking about marrying his camel or something,” said Skuba as he was eating a bag of tuna.
“What the fuck?” said Seth.
“Oh yeah, I remember now it was right after we got kicked out of our hotel because we trashed our whole floor.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t after we started a fight with those Army cunts at Planet Hollywood,” asking Skuba.
“Wild Turkey should be banned from public consumption,” said Seth having a look of regret.
“Why the hell are you eating that bag of tuna?” Looking at Skuba.
“Because dolphins are smart and it’s making me smarter,” confidently said by Skuba.
“You do realize Dolphins don’t eat themselves,” as Seth eats a bag of oats trying to put some kinda of food down his stomach.
“Is that why you’re eating that bag of oats?” I ask Seth.
“Of course not. I’m a thoroughbred. I need oats to feel strong,” stuffing half a bag of oats without water down his mouth.
“Duh asshole. I’m a dolphin, Seth is a horse and you’re an asshole,” said Skuba eating his bag of tuna.
What the fuck is the matter with us as I thought looking my crew inside Combat Intelligence Central, which at the current moment the most intelligent thing about the room was all those expensive machines and certainly not the monkeys working on them.
“Alright stop with the tomfoolery,” shouted the Captain as he stepped into C.I.C as we stand in attention. Our cap was a former linebacker for “The” Ohio State University, which he was still big as a fridge and still aggressive as fuck. I respected him a lot but I could not shake off his Tom Selleck mustache. I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, which I kept thinking what he would like in a Hawaiian shirt?
“Listen boys, these men are our high target priorities for this month. Please study these faces because they are Axes of Evil.”
As the Captain put up America’s Most Wanted on the War Board, I just kept thinking he’s perfect man for this post because we are a bunch of babies, who need a spanking but I just wished Steve Guttenberg was here to help us out. Fuck Ted Danson!
“Your job men is explore, identity, evaluate, implement then execute. We are the architects that plan out the master plan then we execute putting the hammer down!”
We stand in attention again after that motivating speech as the Captain leaves C.I.C.
“You guys know what the hell Her Alibi was talking about,” asking Skuba.
“I think he was telling us get more tuna and oats at the commissary, then get some ice cream,” as Seth throws up his oats at the nearest trash can.
“I’m never drinking again,” said Seth holding the trashcan like his baby.
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Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.