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Broody

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Hank,

How are ya, stud? 

Man do I wish you was here. Sun, palm trees, beaches, all the rum you can drink. Shore leave in fucking paradise, and all that’s on my mind is our last brawl. Don’t help that none of the S.O.B.’s on this tinfoil barge can fight worth a damn. They talk big, get in your face, but then can’t take a punch. No kidding I dropped this one waif-like creature with a bare flick of a jab. I ain’t playing no more ‘til these bums come up with a salty bear like you who can handle these big fists.

Hugs and Kisses (har-de-har-har),

Liam
 

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Liam, 

Got such a fight-boner when I read your card, I went out and found a scrap on a New York rooftop with some swabbies from the Sea Queen. At five-on-one it wasn’t quite fair (for them, ha!). And with a knuckle-dragging stud like you on my mind, I went and popped my load too early. First guy crumpled under my left hook. Second guy lost all his front teeth to my haymaker. I kid you not the third and fourth wimps then shat their dress whites when I screamed in their faces. Hell you know how I can get when I get riled up. Fifth guy was made of somewhat sterner stuff, even caught me with an uppercut right on the button before I flattened him. But you know me, chin like a moose. I’ll post this (don’t lick the blood splatter, you animal), then go placate the Sea Queen’s first mate, smooth things over about the injuries, and the shitstains. Look at you, getting me in trouble, even from halfway ‘round the world.

Bear hugs from your bearfriend (har-de-har-har),

Hank
 

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Hank,

Knew I could count on ya to get me back in the game. Give my best to the Sea Queen’s first mate; I once gut-slugged him so hard he re-savoured a week's worth of navy chow. You always know best, my brother in brawn. Who am I to avoid fightin’, on account of the delicate constitutions of weaker men? I went right back to that beach and pasted seven able seamen thinking of your handsome mug, and what I’d do to it should I see ya once more. They is not so able now (har-de-har-har), what with their busted ribs and all. Took some hard knocks, but ya know my noggin, harder than a coconut. I should know, I cracked one open with these paws and am now enjoying a refreshing drink in victory. Ya must remember my grip (wink wink)? Hope you counted, with that big brain of yours (“placate?”) that seven is more than five. Try to keep up.

Smooches (on mine own biceps),

Liam
 

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Liam,

Guess there’s only one way we’re settlin’ this. I’m coming to get your ass. That’s the kind of grip you meant, right (har-de-har-har)? Ran into the minor problem of finding a ship headed in your general direction, and then the problem that said ship was The Defiant, remember them? They sure remember you and me, back when we were skinny recruits. We packed a wallop even then, but look at us now, with muscles coming out of our ears. They needed some convincing, did them deck apes, all ten of ‘em (math, boy), but you surely know how convincing these arms can be. Plus since they were now shorthanded, what choice did the skipper have? I know how to get my way, you remember? And if you don’t, sit tight, I’ll remind you soon enough.

Drippingly yours,

Hank

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I have always thought the logical outcome of the following scene from "South Pacific" would be antics like those of Hank and Luther, uh, Liam! As described above...

 

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8 hours ago, arpeejay said:

I have always thought the logical outcome of the following scene from "South Pacific" would be antics like those of Hank and Luther, uh, Liam! As described above...

This is quite possibly the most ironic scene in musical theatre history, lol. I love the Look But Do Not Touch banner in front of the showers.

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26 minutes ago, Broody said:

This is quite possibly the most ironic scene in musical theatre history, lol. I love the Look But Do Not Touch banner in front of the showers.

Indeed! It always makes me smile! 

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Wish You Were Here, Part 2: Liam Gets Licked, Hank Gets Nicked!

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Hank,

Didn’t I plumb spit up my rum when I read that you was comin’ my way. And on The Defiant no less, where we met! Do ya remember what a drubbin’ First Mate Mackinley handed me that first week at sea? What a dumb little shit I was, a buck twenty-five soaking wet. Talking back to an officer ‘cuz he had the nerve to dress me down for knocking out that swabby what tried to haze me. He made an example a’ me, didn’t he, batterin’ me all through the ship with just his left, while his right he held behind his back, gentleman like. I was a banged up wreck when he tossed me inta your skinny arms to take to sick bay. Ya dressed my cuts, iced my lumps, put me back together, and we’s been brothers ever since. Four years later, and here I is, a full grown man at 21, filled out with fifty pounds more a’ lean hard muscle, and still a dumb little shit!  Would ya believe I just today climbed up a sheer cliff bare-handed on a dare? From the top, I seen a ship dock, a merchant trader outta Manila. While I’m waiting on your fists of fury (and fun), gonna go see if any a-them’s got lead in their pencil (har-de-har-har).

Longing for your touch (a gloves, naturally),

Liam

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Liam,

That first sail was a fine schooling, eh? Thinking we were tough, me off the streets, you off the farm. Then tough punched us in the face (though I dare point out, Mackinley had to pull out his right to clobber my Eastside ass). He’s the skipper now, and still a gentleman, taking my drubbing of his crew for what it was: cutting loose dead weight. Course he still had me do the work of the five men who weren't fit to board, but that’s just an average Tuesday for your salty bear. We picked up some special cargo in Miami. The longshoremen were cagey about loading it, so I gave ‘em a carnival freakshow to stare at, pulling the skids myself. But that’s me, Hank the Tank, 185 pounds o’ muscle, 170 topside, 15 below, (that’s 5 lbs each leg, har-de-har-har). Now you better not get your heiny handed to you by those hardass Filipinos before I get my chance at our own tug-o’-war.

Fondly,

Hank

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Hank,

Ya must pardon my chicken scratch. I is havin’ ta dash this note off ta ya between rounds as I can’t be sure now I’ll live thru this bone-headed choice to box the captain of the San Cristóbal. Wouldn’t ya figure a skipper what forbids his crew from fightin’ would be a lily-livered pansy? Didn’t I get the shock of my young life when he unbuttoned his tunic to show off more steel than I ever seen in an engine room, let alone on a man. In case I come outta this with what paltry brains I got blown out the back o’ my skull by Manny Caballero’s fist, you is to have all I gots in my foot locker. Even if I make it, ya might not hear from me awhile, on account o’ the stakes I put up, when I thought I was fighting a man and not a battleship. Hope my second can get this to the postmaster after he scrapes me off the dock.

Farewell, perhaps,

Liam

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Liam, 

I don’t know if you’ll get this, and sorry to say you might not hear from me awhile, on account of me and Mackinley finding ourselves locked up in Panama. The skipper was accused of smuggling by the Canal bozos, and I’m sure you can guess, that dirty lie drove me into one of my rages. If I was thinking straight I would have planned a proper jailbreak instead of hauling in broad daylight on his cell’s bars until I ripped ‘em right out of the masonry. The nerve of these wimps, with their cushy jobs guarding a ditch, locking up a he-man like Mackinley, our Navy Dad if you and I ever had one. Still, neither of us is (yet) bulletproof so it looks like we’re stuck here for now. Now don’t you worry about your salty bear wasting away, we got a plan to keep up our fitness, and a dainty corporal on the outside who blushed through the gun show and will trade extra chow for the odd ripple and flex. The little muscle-piglet might even post this with a little more negotiation. You know I drive a hard bargain (har-de-har-har).

Yours in human bondage,

Hank

 

Edited by Broody
Edited to make Liam the farmboy and Hank the street kid as I feel this better reflects the speech patterns.
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What an interesting scenario, @Broody. Two hot(-headed) sailors, ready to throw fists with everyone. If they ever meet they might either fuck each others lights out or beat the other to a pulp (or both). Am excited to see more from Hank and Liam. 

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3 hours ago, DawnFire98 said:

What an interesting scenario, @Broody. Two hot(-headed) sailors, ready to throw fists with everyone. If they ever meet they might either fuck each others lights out or beat the other to a pulp (or both). Am excited to see more from Hank and Liam. 

Glad you like it, @DawnFire98, the tough guy brothers-in-arms sexual tension “Are we gonna fight, or are we gonna fuck” is exactly what I was going for, as well as a writing exercise for me in circa 1930s he-man slang.

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3 hours ago, Lutz said:

This is lovely. I wonder where this is headed. Steel hard sailor attitude... Glad you brought it up

Thank you, stud! Happy to find an audience for it here. There will be some muscle growth I promise!

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2 hours ago, Broody said:

Thank you, stud! Happy to find an audience for it here. There will be some muscle growth I promise!

🍆

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