Bryson sat at the desk in his cabin, a small lamp lit up his work, he had hundreds of newspaper clippings on The Maritime Slug, he smoked on his pipe as he looked through his half rim glasses. He had a map of the ocean lain out, dotted and dated with the supposed sightings over the last 500 years. The descriptions of the beast ranged from 50 to 500 feet high and wide, some claimed it roared and spoke in an Slovakian twang, some claimed it spat its venomous intoxicating poison at it’s victims, scooping them up with its tentacles before disappearing with them below the waves, others claimed The Maritime Slug invented the Soda Stream..
Bryson’s recent life was littered with heartbreak, his feline fancy left him on a stormy night, she kissed him and got out of their bed, Bryson pleaded and begged her not to walk out the door, but she packed her bag and turned right away. With a bruised heart, Bryson swore never to get hurt again so he threw himself into his work as a freelance journalist, he struck up a prosperous partnership with a Fox Photographer called Gerry Brush, 2nd cousin to Basil, after years of freelance work the two of them were employed by the Daily Flange to work on the more obscure stories, it started out with the usual side column stories of Potatoes that looked like Jesus or crisps that looked like Crocodiles. Slowly but surely they won praise for their work, the side stories became main stories, the plaudits, accolades and then eventually awards rolled in. When the Paper’s Sunday Supplement wanted someone to cover the “Dundee Dog Derby”, in print and picture, Bryson and Gerry were the first on the list, they were granted carte blanche in terms of expenses. “get the story, make it gritty, we need an expose’ on this’. The editor’s words were clear to them, this was a chance for the perfect road trip and a chance for Bryson to find his smile again.
That week changed Bryson’s life, highs, hookers and hangovers. One Acid laden night Bryson met a Norwegian Bassett Hound who went by the name of Torvig, it was he who first told Bryson of the legend of the Maritime Slug. Something clicked and twisted in Bryson’s mind, everything about the story and legend fascinated him, there was a romance and mystique to the tale, and more importantly Bryson believed it to be true, in some in-direct way he believed that if he could slay The Maritime Slug that he could win back the love of Florence, his feline fancy, every day since and every ounce of Bryson’s energy was directed towards The Slug.
_________________________________________________________________________
Chumf made a tentative enquiry at the Beauty Salon on board,
The tanned assistant with the white overall met Chumf’s eyes as he entered,
‘yes sir? How can I help you today?’
‘yes eh, I have had a look at your prices, but what I am after is not on your list’
‘and what would that be sir?, I think we can manage just about anything here’
Chumf looked behind him, slightly embarrassed and checking no one was there to overhear his request, he then whispered,
‘do you do ball washes?’
‘why of course sir!, is it for both balls?’, Chumf was shocked at the nonchalance at which the assistant showed.
‘well, eh, yeah both balls please’
‘ok sir, would you like them shined also?’
‘well, yeah I’ll take the full works’
‘well sir the full works involves waxing and exfoliation, it really all depends on the how sensitive your scrotum skin is, we have a chart I can show you’
* * * * * * * * * *
Harri read through the daily cruise itinerary while she dried her bush, Cruise News was an informative guide to the day's destination and also what was on all over the ship, as well as this, the travellers were kept informed by regular tannoy announcements from the Ship's cruise director, the cruise company 'Tootsnaff' tried to cater for everyone......it read like the following
Snudge Bar 1pm. Sneezing etiquette for Masonic Martians
Pool deck 2pm. Bingo for born again Beavers
Galileo's Gamesroom 4.30pm. Naked Nipple Nudging
and Crochet....Tootsnaff cannot accept responsibility for any injuries caused during this event.
Harri was not taken by any of the planned activities, Maxine, her Albino Denim Pig friend suggested getting smashed on Singapore Slings, but Harri remembered that Maxine had made a pass at her the last time they got squiffy together so Harri politley declined and agreed to meet Maxine later for Dinner in the Horse Restaurant.
Harri went to the buffet for breakfast, grapefruit followed by Morrocan Monkey Liver, she moved outside to the pool bar to enjoy her customary post-meal menthol cigarette, the pool deck was particularly busy as this way one of the ship's days at sea, Harri liked to people-watch, try and work out what the set up was with different couples or families, try and decipher what secrets they may hide from each other, if any, that thought brought her back to Chumf, the lies, the secrets and the lost bus tickets. Harri found herself tuning into a conversation at the table behind,
'I am sick of having to pamper all these fat smelly old men, they disgust me', Harri cricked her neck pretending to look beyond the two young females sat at the table, they were dressed in all white uniforms.
'But there was one guy who came for an appointment this morning, he was so charming and sooooooo good looking and he had the highest rating for scrotum sensitivity I have ever seen'
Harri's heart missed a beat, she quickly stubbed her menthol out on her tongue and went towards the girl's table,
'I am so sorry about this but I overheard your conversation, this man you speak of with the ballwash'
'Mam, I am so sorry I cannot talk about our clientele'
'Ok ok I understand but tell me this, did he have brown eyes?, dimples and the kind of smile that made you feel like you had just found an extra one in your packet of Fridge raiders when you thought they were finished'
'oh my God, how could you know that?' The beauty therapist was aghast, Harri was elated, surely only one man could fit this description.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Chumf felt refreshed after his testi-cure, he decided to investigate more of the vessel, the ship was kept fantastically clean, Indonesian horse flunkies were hard at it with brasso, bannisters cleaned four times a day, windows the same, carpets hoovered on the hour and toilets de-framped each midday.
Chumf looked around the various boutiques and souvenir shops, he then went to rest and watch the ocean go by in one of the many bar areas, a Penguinhippo played some relaxing tunes on the piano, a jazz version of the Bacharach classic ‘someone else’s vauxhall’, followed by ‘System Restore Blues’ then ‘The Ballad of Perfectly Normal Behaviour’.
The vastness of the Ocean mesmerised Chumf, it had an hypnotic quality, his trance like state was broken by one of the bar tenders dropping his tray full of drinks, some passengers helped him rescue the mess, Chumf looked…then looked again, IT COULDN’T BE!!!!, at the far side of the lobby, beyond the rumpus caused by the careless bartender, there walked a lady with the same shape, height and bush bulge as Harri , Chumf struggled past the kind hearted folks who were helping the bar tender, he was then stopped by an on board tour party being shown around the ship, he swerved around the people, hoping to catch up with Harri, he got to the stairwell and elevators, just to see one elevator closing, he pushed the buttons impatiently but the elevator moved going upwards, he raced the stairs checking on each level to see if it was stopping , the lift was moving quicker than he could climb the stairs, he reached the 9th floor , he checked the numbers above the lift door on this level to see that the lift had stopped on floor 10, he bounded up the stairs, the lift door’s were open with no one inside, he had two ways he could choose to go, he opted right, the long thing corridor with cabins on either side stretched far in front of him, it had the haunting never ending look of the corridors in ‘The Shining’, Chumf saw what he thought was Harri again in the distance, he raced towards her, ‘Harri, HARRI, HARRRIIIII’. At that moment a huge fat balloon of a man came out of his cabin, Chumf ran straight into him, bouncing backwards and falling onto his backside, in the ensuing seconds Chumf took to recover from the collision, the female figure had disappeared out of site. Chumf Snapped,
‘YOU HUGE FAT TIT, YOU UTTER FAT BLOB OF USELESSNESS, YOU HAVE JUST RUINED MY LIFE YOU BLUBBERING FLABFEST’
Chumf remained prostrate and started to cry, as the Fat Man walked away muttering, ‘charming’!
‘Problems my friend?’ came a different voice. Bryson appeared from his own cabin, reached out to help Chumf to his tired feet........
'Love is like a raccoon Chumf, sure it looks small, simple and black and white, but before you know it you are a small mammal living in North America'
Wise words poured from Bryson as he tried to comfort Chumf.
'my heart was broken once, it hurt bad and it has never properly mended so I vowed never to let anything have that grip on me again'
'but Bryson, surely The Maritime Slug has a grip on you' Chumf reasoned.
Bryson placed his index finger at his mouth, alarmed at the volume of Chumf's mention of the slug, in a hushed tone Bryson chastised him,
'Please, you must keep your voice lowered when you mention him, you never know who is listening'....
Chumf took time to look around the Medusa ballroom, the people were a typical cross section of society, young couples still doughy eyed in love with each other, both sets of genitals red raw, Mums and Dads with young kids tormenting them for more money or juice or whatever the kids required to keep them occupied, middle aged couples sitting in silence secretly plotting ways in which to gain Life insurance money from their spouse, then there were a table of seven Fruit-Lions playing Brag, typical of them. Like most cruise ships, there was an exorbitant amount of geriatrics, who despite sitting with an equally wrinkled partner, thought they were on their own. This was how Chumf saw his fellow seafarers, how he viewed the world at the moment, through cynical heart-broken eyes.
Then just as quick as chocolate sand Chumf saw her again, he saw what he thought to be Harri, she stood by the bar, back turned to Chumf, surrounded by 2 small headless men,
'Bryson, shut the f'ck up for a minute and watch my drink'
Chumf made his way over the mirror-balled darkened dance-floor, Harri had not moved, he took a breath to compose himself, reached out a hand to touch his love's shoulder, the figure turned round, it wasn't Harri, it was Kevin Keegan, not modern day KK, this was late 70's Hamburg Kevin Keegan.
'hey mate, you want an autograph?'
Chumf beared his johnson and let Keegan scrawl his signature along his gland, it had been a long day so without even acknowledging Bryson, he headed for bed.
Can Chumf and Harri overcome these cruel twists of fate?
Where is the maritime slug?
Whats the best, Fifa or Pro Evo?
All might be revealed in the concluding part of Chumf and The Maritime Slug.
Peace and Love Y'all.
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Chumf and The Maritime Slug Part 1
Chumf longed for Harri, like an elephant longs for candy floss, he missed her hair, her stale squeakers, he just missed her. That morning Freda, his latest flame broached the non sex action with Chumf as he brushed his teeth,
‘you know honey we have not done much bum bum lately, are you ok?.” Chumf stammered towards a reply,
‘yeah baby I am just crazy busy at work’ .
‘well could we maybe have a little fun now’.
Again caught on the spot Chumf tripped into a reply.
‘now is not great for me honey flaps, I need to get to work, plus my balls are howling’.
Freda’s moustache looked more daunting than ever to Chumf as he caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Chumf continued trying to soften the blow,
‘maybe we could meet in the bedroom, say Thursday night around 11, we can take it from there’.
A disappointed Freda nodded a sad nod and left the bathroom.
Like any true man would do, Chumf broke it off with Freda in what he saw as the fairest way….For Him, he waited till she went to work, packed his stuff, left a note and stole her hoover……….
’a cruise is what you would enjoy Mr Taylor’.
Chumf was open to suggestions from the travel agent.
‘a lot of lovely places to visit and nice people to meet. Would be ideal for you, and who knows?, you might find some romance’.
Chumf did not want romance, he wanted Harri, like a tiger wants equal opportunities.
he booked the cruise and went out and bought a new wardrobe, he needed clothes but this was a nice wardrobe, after that he got around to buying some new clothes, he purchased a pair of burgundy brothel creepers, a reversible Panama hat and a concrete cravat……
The first night on the cruise Chumf sat listening to the resident band “Strum jam” in the Medusa Ballroom, he was sipping on a Malaysian Meltdown cocktail, made up of dugbutter vermouth and cod liver oil, he was joined at the bar by a Jewish cat called Bryson, Chumf knew this by his introduction, “hi, I am a cat, my name is Bryson and I am Jewish’. The conversation ranged from sport to music, politics to pole dancing, then Bryson edged closer, he lowered his voice and leaned in towards Chumf, ‘I get the feeling I can trust you my friend, there is a special reason I am on this cruise’. For a dark frightening second he thought Bryson was going to suggest some jobby action so was hugely relieved when he continued…
‘I am here to slay the maritime slug’,
Chumf was stunned, this Jewish cat was clearly crazy. The Maritime slug was an old wive’s tale in the same vein as The Loch Ness monster, the abominable snowman and intelligent women. Chumf feigned interest, Bryson continued,
‘he rises from the depths once every fifty years, it is fifty years since he was last seen in this very ocean’.
Chumf was battle weary, he of all people knew that anything was possible, but this was not the Chumf of old, the years had scarred his will and enthusiasm, this combined with his current year long suspension from the force for on-duty ‘pigeon purging’ meant for Bryson that Chumf was the wrong ear at the wrong time for this star-crossed Cat adventurer.
‘look my friend, I wish you well in your search but I am just here to give my balls a well deserved rest’
‘this I understand my friend, but beware, once he rises he will capture 2 humans, one male and one female, the Slug will take them to his lair beneath the ocean where they will be pickled in ginger ale and slowly eaten piece by piece, limbs torn off whilst the other watches.'
Chumf said nothing, just finished his drink and motioned to move away from the bar area, Bryson pawed his arm to gain his attention again,
‘please take heed my friend, the captors are only chosen if they, like you, are non-believers in the maritime slug, keep your tit-wits about you’.
Chumf nodded politely, bid him farewell and slipped off to his cabin.
* * * * * * * * *
The anger had left Harri now, she was just hurting badly, her heart ached like Toblerone, ‘how could he?. Why did he?, whats the square root of an egg plant?.’. So many questions, so few answers. Playing dominoes with Blow up dolls whilst Harri was out was one thing but playing dominoes with blow up dolls wearing Harri’s red leather jump suit whilst she was out was something entirely different. Chumf’s excuses were lame and pitiful in Harri’s eyes,
‘look my little fluffcrab, it was just a moment of weakness, you were out at your Mothers and I was lonely.’
Harri’s shrink told her that this was a ‘cry for help’ from Chumf, Harri needed a holiday.
As she sat by the pool on the eighth deck of the ship she tried to push all these thoughts from her head, this cruise was a new beginning, a fresh start, her cruising companion was her friend Maxine, she was an albino denim Pig, Maxine could not stay in the sun so spent her day inside the ship knitting boxer shorts for Barry McGuigan, meanwhile Harri read her book and took in the rays, the previous night she had been hit on by many male admirers, most polite, some handsome, some sleazy, one elderly gentleman casually sat his withered nutsack on Harri’s shoulder as she sat in the polo piano bar, although appalled at first, the elderly man explained that in his country it was to compliment a woman’s beauty if you sat your scrotum on their shoulder. Despite the advances Harri looked for no suitor, if it was not Chumf then it was no one, but Chumf was gone from her life, washed away like terrorist’s pyjamas. Unbeknown to Harri, she was in for the biggest shock of her life…..
* * * * * * * * * *
The cabin was small in space but huge in terms of Chumf’s lonely heart, the previous night he dreamt of Harri, they ran through the meadow naked, Harri had a daisy-chain on her head, the smile that melted Chumf was was wider and more beautiful than ever, the tattoo of Hitler on her bum had never seemed so clear, her bush could have done with a trim but who was counting?. In the dream Chumf’s tallywhacker had never before seemed so proud or handsome, but this was just a dream, Chumf was awoken by the Captain’s morning announcement booming through the cabin speakers,
‘Good morning Sea-farers, today we are in Naples, the toilet of civilization…….’
Chumf stretched, squeezed out a triple fart to the tune of ‘Song sung blue’ by Neil Diamond and headed for the shower……..
Will fate bring Chumf and Harri together?
What part will Bryson play in this tale of treason?
Did you hum Song Sung Blue in your head?
Will you readers ever get a second part to this story?
All will(might)be revealed in the next part of Chumf and The Maritime Slug
‘you know honey we have not done much bum bum lately, are you ok?.” Chumf stammered towards a reply,
‘yeah baby I am just crazy busy at work’ .
‘well could we maybe have a little fun now’.
Again caught on the spot Chumf tripped into a reply.
‘now is not great for me honey flaps, I need to get to work, plus my balls are howling’.
Freda’s moustache looked more daunting than ever to Chumf as he caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Chumf continued trying to soften the blow,
‘maybe we could meet in the bedroom, say Thursday night around 11, we can take it from there’.
A disappointed Freda nodded a sad nod and left the bathroom.
Like any true man would do, Chumf broke it off with Freda in what he saw as the fairest way….For Him, he waited till she went to work, packed his stuff, left a note and stole her hoover……….
’a cruise is what you would enjoy Mr Taylor’.
Chumf was open to suggestions from the travel agent.
‘a lot of lovely places to visit and nice people to meet. Would be ideal for you, and who knows?, you might find some romance’.
Chumf did not want romance, he wanted Harri, like a tiger wants equal opportunities.
he booked the cruise and went out and bought a new wardrobe, he needed clothes but this was a nice wardrobe, after that he got around to buying some new clothes, he purchased a pair of burgundy brothel creepers, a reversible Panama hat and a concrete cravat……
The first night on the cruise Chumf sat listening to the resident band “Strum jam” in the Medusa Ballroom, he was sipping on a Malaysian Meltdown cocktail, made up of dugbutter vermouth and cod liver oil, he was joined at the bar by a Jewish cat called Bryson, Chumf knew this by his introduction, “hi, I am a cat, my name is Bryson and I am Jewish’. The conversation ranged from sport to music, politics to pole dancing, then Bryson edged closer, he lowered his voice and leaned in towards Chumf, ‘I get the feeling I can trust you my friend, there is a special reason I am on this cruise’. For a dark frightening second he thought Bryson was going to suggest some jobby action so was hugely relieved when he continued…
‘I am here to slay the maritime slug’,
Chumf was stunned, this Jewish cat was clearly crazy. The Maritime slug was an old wive’s tale in the same vein as The Loch Ness monster, the abominable snowman and intelligent women. Chumf feigned interest, Bryson continued,
‘he rises from the depths once every fifty years, it is fifty years since he was last seen in this very ocean’.
Chumf was battle weary, he of all people knew that anything was possible, but this was not the Chumf of old, the years had scarred his will and enthusiasm, this combined with his current year long suspension from the force for on-duty ‘pigeon purging’ meant for Bryson that Chumf was the wrong ear at the wrong time for this star-crossed Cat adventurer.
‘look my friend, I wish you well in your search but I am just here to give my balls a well deserved rest’
‘this I understand my friend, but beware, once he rises he will capture 2 humans, one male and one female, the Slug will take them to his lair beneath the ocean where they will be pickled in ginger ale and slowly eaten piece by piece, limbs torn off whilst the other watches.'
Chumf said nothing, just finished his drink and motioned to move away from the bar area, Bryson pawed his arm to gain his attention again,
‘please take heed my friend, the captors are only chosen if they, like you, are non-believers in the maritime slug, keep your tit-wits about you’.
Chumf nodded politely, bid him farewell and slipped off to his cabin.
* * * * * * * * *
The anger had left Harri now, she was just hurting badly, her heart ached like Toblerone, ‘how could he?. Why did he?, whats the square root of an egg plant?.’. So many questions, so few answers. Playing dominoes with Blow up dolls whilst Harri was out was one thing but playing dominoes with blow up dolls wearing Harri’s red leather jump suit whilst she was out was something entirely different. Chumf’s excuses were lame and pitiful in Harri’s eyes,
‘look my little fluffcrab, it was just a moment of weakness, you were out at your Mothers and I was lonely.’
Harri’s shrink told her that this was a ‘cry for help’ from Chumf, Harri needed a holiday.
As she sat by the pool on the eighth deck of the ship she tried to push all these thoughts from her head, this cruise was a new beginning, a fresh start, her cruising companion was her friend Maxine, she was an albino denim Pig, Maxine could not stay in the sun so spent her day inside the ship knitting boxer shorts for Barry McGuigan, meanwhile Harri read her book and took in the rays, the previous night she had been hit on by many male admirers, most polite, some handsome, some sleazy, one elderly gentleman casually sat his withered nutsack on Harri’s shoulder as she sat in the polo piano bar, although appalled at first, the elderly man explained that in his country it was to compliment a woman’s beauty if you sat your scrotum on their shoulder. Despite the advances Harri looked for no suitor, if it was not Chumf then it was no one, but Chumf was gone from her life, washed away like terrorist’s pyjamas. Unbeknown to Harri, she was in for the biggest shock of her life…..
* * * * * * * * * *
The cabin was small in space but huge in terms of Chumf’s lonely heart, the previous night he dreamt of Harri, they ran through the meadow naked, Harri had a daisy-chain on her head, the smile that melted Chumf was was wider and more beautiful than ever, the tattoo of Hitler on her bum had never seemed so clear, her bush could have done with a trim but who was counting?. In the dream Chumf’s tallywhacker had never before seemed so proud or handsome, but this was just a dream, Chumf was awoken by the Captain’s morning announcement booming through the cabin speakers,
‘Good morning Sea-farers, today we are in Naples, the toilet of civilization…….’
Chumf stretched, squeezed out a triple fart to the tune of ‘Song sung blue’ by Neil Diamond and headed for the shower……..
Will fate bring Chumf and Harri together?
What part will Bryson play in this tale of treason?
Did you hum Song Sung Blue in your head?
Will you readers ever get a second part to this story?
All will(might)be revealed in the next part of Chumf and The Maritime Slug
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