Tuesday, March 20, 2012

‘Cleaning Heads’

After ‘Morning Quarters’ when berthing was fumigated with pine oil and the low life natives  of the shit-hole we called living quarters were chased out with swabs… foxtails… duct tape and make-shift (Secured til’ further notice… Use the last shitter on the left) paper signs, us bottom of the barrel end of the evolutionary chain bottom feeders not qualified to needle gun the dried shit from an ol’ leather boon-docker were  left to clean the shitters and take out the trash… that was about the discourse of life in those younger years!!!

Ship’s Berthing was like a monkey cage in a zoo… shit fly’n from every corner of the compartment… and if it weren’t for heads-n-beads in the morning… we’d be condemned by the EPA… OSHA… DHS… and all the other Federal Departments of the alphabet cereal connection!!!

Our head was like a municipal septic tank for all walks of life… if it weren’t for the clean’n and care we put in daily… the unholy smell of piss water swash’n around…  farts… body odor… dirty feet… brillo pad pubes and the septic ‘XXX’ funk…   let’s just say it could get pretty nasty in those places!!!

When ‘Papa dropped the kids off at the pool’… we took care of the residual byproduct.

It was like clockwork… break’n out the pine oil, GP, Officer’s Cakes…

“Send Seaman Schmuckaroo down to the Boatswain’s Locker for trashbags, toilet paper, and paper towels”

And we were off to the races!!!

Predictably… while wiping down the shitter stalls and read’n all that glorious poetry there’d be traces left from the ill-reputed ‘Booger Bandit’!!! Never caught the son-of-a-bitch… but if I ever did, I would’a beat his ass so bad he’d have to clear his throat just to fart!!

I always had this image in my head of this fella… digg’n way deep like he’s prospecting for gold… smearing it on… one after the other!!! There’s a gaudamned roll of toilet paper right in front of you ‘ASSHOLE’!!!

Never could quite figure that one out…

Then you’d always have the crooked son-of-a-bitch that walks up to the urinal and pisses in every which direction known to man! You’d be ten feet away and this jackass is ricochet spray’n eleven feet into your direction!!

“Hey look at me… no hands!!!”

While he’s drain’n the dragon he’s gotta start up a conversation like he’s anticipating you check’n out his package… I mean what the hell… either this fella was born in a Sausage Kennel try’n to bait the hook or he’s a few clowns short of a circus… either way he’s look’n for an ass whoop’n!!!

It’s not like you didn’t have enough on your mind try’n to get this place spick’n span before the ‘XO’ made his announcement!!!

Then you got the lil’ introverted feller pinch’n off a loaf and stand’n there with his pants down to his ankles while he shoves his dungeroo shirt down his skivvies sooo gaudamned far it hangs out the bottom… Do we really gotta witness this shit… I mean really!?!?

I guess it’s not as bad as the fella in his ‘grape smuggl’n Banana Hammock’!! Noth’n worse than witness’n an overstretched bag-o-golf balls trancing around for everyone to see!!!

Then of course after wiping down all the mirrors and sinks… there’s always the son-of-a-bitch turn’n on the water… doing the two second shuffle with the soap and shakes his hands allover your gaudamned art work!!! Then he walks out leaving the gaudamned door handle wet… don’t know if it’s whiskey piss or nasty sewage water… your guess is as good as mine!!!

Now I know why the ‘XO’ wear’s a gaudamned glove…

And it would never fail! Just before the ‘XO’ came in to give his white glove assessment… the ‘Shithouse Camper’ would come waltz’n in with some nekkit gurlie read’n material sitt’n in his own juices while performing a burial at sea…

“Man I can’t wait to get back import… I’m gonna be driving the beef bus to tuna town… and play hide the salami in the bearded oysta!”

“Noboday wants to hear you cry’n… you ain’t had pussy since pussy had you!!”

Next thing that followed was the sound of someone play’n the ol’ skin flute with the ‘one-eyed monster’…

“Hey, sounds like you’re gett’n in a fight with Rosy Palm and her five sisters in there!”…

“It’s five against one… that ain’t fair!!”

“What’s wrong Seaman Stains… you wanna join’em?”

“AAAH go to hell… all you guys!!”

“Knock off the bullshit and get to work!!!"

Then you heard the relentless spinning of the ol’ toilet paper roll… twenty-five feet at a thousand RPM… almost sounds like one of them Cummings diesels start’n up!!! The son-of-a-bitch must’a had his whole gaudamned hand wrapped in it!!!

Then the shitter door pops open… and ‘Whaaa-laaah!!’ noth’n but man-chowder all over the gaudamned bulkhead you just scrubbed twenty minutes ago… and the wad of toilet paper that won’t flush… probably the same gaudamned reason the shitters always got clogged… time to call in the turd chasers!!!

“Thanks asshole… Don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya on the way out!!”

Besides all the untamed animals who could gag a maggot on a gut wagon… there was always the complain’n from the female berthing… I heard it can smell like a shithouse on a shrimp boat in the dead heat of summer!!!

There’s a reason we kept the A/C down two degrees below freez’n!!! But you know what they say…

“That which don’t kill ya makes you full of shit… with lot’s of character too!!!”

Yea, this was the life we lived… the daily norm’ underway for a typical sailor on the high seas!!!


  1. Berthing PO... I forget how many Golden Broom Awards in a row we racked up down in 1st Division on that '98-99' WestPac, but it was a bunch. And as true as this story is, you better believe it always helps to be the ranking asshole in the room!

  2. Nothing but assholes & elbows working up a sweat!

  3. I'll never forget the look on Jeff Caldwell's face, when he discovered that the "Unacrapper" had struck again and pinched one off in the shower!

  4. 1) Glad we didn't have females in my day, and (2) real damn glad I never had to clean up after them!

  5. Love you're stories takes me back to my Forrestal CV59 days 77-84 BT2

  6. You continue to crack me up Dennis with these stories so accurately described in terms only an old matelot can truly appreciate.