Shade Posted January 1 Share Posted January 1 Love the story and the art. 1 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Broody Posted January 1 Author Share Posted January 1 9 hours ago, Shade said: Love the story and the art. Thanks, bro Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DawnFire98 Posted January 3 Share Posted January 3 MORE HANK, MORE JIM! MORE HANK, MORE JIM! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Broody Posted January 5 Author Share Posted January 5 On 1/2/2024 at 9:01 PM, DawnFire98 said: MORE HANK, MORE JIM! MORE HANK, MORE JIM! Liam would object to you getting his name wrong, if his mouth wasn’t full. (Details next…) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Broody Posted January 5 Author Share Posted January 5 Wish You Were Here, part 3: Pride Goeth Before a Fall Hank, I had a dream that I was flying. Just like that Flying Sailor a’ Halifax what got caught in that munitions ship explosion during the war. I was sailing on the wind, clear over the skyscrapers a’ Manhattan. I felt so free, Hank, like all the troubles of the world washed away. Then I landed flat on my back on the dock and woke up. I’d indeed been flying while I took my quick nap, propelled in a genuinely vertical direction by Manny Caballero’s monster knockout. My corner man later said he’d never seen nothing like it, a grown man punched clean outta his shoes. As the ref counted me out, I looked up, dazed and amazed, at the specimen what done it, with a chest like an ironclad hull, and arms like howitzers. I figured I was lucky t’ have come awake at all. I shivered as the captain of the San Cristóbal picked me up like a sack a’ taters, an’ tossed me over a shoulder hard as a bulkhead. I gawped at the sheer size a’ his biceps: both mine own big paws could not encircle its girth. He effortlessly lugged me, his victory prize, back to my new home for the next month, his own cabin. Yes, that’s me now, little more than a cabin boy thanks to a cocky wager. But a man must stand on his word, even when he can’t stand on his legs (on account a’ the conk-cussion). My duties are to polish every knob, pipe and rail on deck during the day, then, at dusk, attend to the skipper, an’ polish every knob, pipe and rail that needs polishin’ there too. Now I don’t want ya to get the wrong impression about me, Hank, ya know me to be a man’s man through and through. But sometimes, when ya get licked in such an admirable fashion, ya gots to see the art of it all. And, truth be told, when my new Captain doffs his duds at the end of the day, and I gets to appreciate a physique that would make Mr Sandow weep, that oughta be on a pedestal at one a’ them fancy Eye-talian museums, the last thing I feel is a loser. I feel nothing but awe. I feel alive in a way I haven’t felt since that day you and me met, and free, like I’m sailing on the wind. Blissfully yours, Liam Liam, I started to write a harsh retort to the mushy punch-drunk hogwash you saw fit to inflict on me in your last correspondence. But as events have unfolded here in the hoosegow, I cannot now cast that stone, as the good book says. At first things were going all according to plan. I was stringing along the dainty corporal with my robust sex appeal. A foolproof three-part seduction plan: do sweaty calisthenics in the cell, grip the prison bars high to waft the armpit fragrance so generated, then apply my irresistible come-hither stare. Even pulled out the secret weapon, a close shave, to show off the Hollywood jawline. Bim bam boom. One drooling corporal front and center giving me the familiar tentpole salute. A little pectoral ballet to seal the deal and we had us an accomplice. The plan we came up with was a classic, and a sure bet with bored prison guards: an entertaining bare fist boxing match that Mackinley and I would escalate into complete chaos. Then a rousing escape amid the fray, aided by Cpl. Dainty. It’s really my own fault for overthinking things. I got it in my head that maybe that cargo I loaded in Miami was dodgy after all, and maybe I was being set up by Mackinley to take a fall, in revenge for pummeling his crew in New York. I confronted Mackinley about it just afore the fight, and didn’t the frosty glare from his icy blue eyes set my teeth a-chattering like I’d fell overboard off Antarctica. I knew instantly I was in the wrong, and knew furthermore that Scott “Iron Wrought” Mackinley, fighting champ of the seven seas, was gonna take the disloyalty out of my hide; play-fighting for show was now out the window. I thought I might have a chance with my superior bulk if I caught him in a bully clinch off the bell and tried to get him to the floor for some down-and-dirty. Didn’t the man drop his hands, brace his legs and stand immobile while I grunted and heaved in vain against him, much to the amusement of the assembled goons. “Fair enough, Hank,” he rumbled manfully in my ear. “Seems the ground be where ye belong in truth.” And with that, muscles that had been hard as marble suddenly flowed like water, and I careened in angular fashion over his hip faster than the flywheel of a steam engine. I smashed flat on my back onto the stone floor, and seemingly six feet there-under. My friend, how to describe the pain? It felt like every bone in my body shattered and the shrapnel tore my innards to rags. I couldn’t get up before the count; I didn’t think I’d ever get up again. Mackinley turned on his heel and went back to our cell and sat, as if on a throne. Somehow the medics peeled me off the floor and hauled me to the infirmary. When I got back to our cell that night, Mack had some medicine of his own to administer, via suppository. Two points in closing: Firstly, I’ll be awhile longer getting out of this ditch, and secondly, I have no cause to slight you for being a cabin boy, now that I’m Mack’s prison bitch. When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom. Proverbs 11:2 Here’s hoping, Hank 7 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DawnFire98 Posted January 5 Share Posted January 5 32 minutes ago, Broody said: Liam would object to you getting his name wrong, if his mouth wasn’t full. (Details next…) My bad Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Broody Posted January 5 Author Share Posted January 5 Just so those following don't get mixed up, I switched our friends' origins, Liam is now the farmboy and Hank is the New York street kid. This makes more sense the way I've been developing the voice of each character. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Broody Posted January 10 Author Share Posted January 10 Wish You Were Here, part 4 Hank, Quite the shock did I get from the surprising language at the end a’ your last card. Bible verses?? The only prior times I recall hearing the name of our Lord on your tongue was in the midst a’ fearsome curses, which I’ll not repeat here so as to avoid offendin’ the pious men of our naval post. You always were the literate type, and I suppose there ain’t nothing else they’s allow ya to read in the hoosegow. I also gather that this is your Capt. Mackinley’s influence, he always was an admirer of the Old Testament (with the exception of certain verses a’ Leviticus, har-de-har-har). My month with Capt. Caballero is now at an end and I take my leave of the San Cristóbal here in Sydney. While you rightly pointed out my embarassin’ moonin’ over his masculine physique in my last reply, I will have you know the tables turned in my favor not long afterward. Only a few days out from port, the captain decided his new cabin boy should look more like, y’know, a boy. So one morning as he set out for the bridge, he called the Cook, who doubles as the barber, to come to the cabin and give my hairy jaw a shave. Now I had some objection to him moving onto my chest, but Cook made it clear via vigorous pantomime that the captain would turn me into mashed pa’taters if I gave him more grief. Well now the captain arrived back from the bridge that evening and took one look at my pretty puss and was struck dumb, smitten. How do I know this you might ask, given I is famous for not knowing that a girl (or a feller) is sweet on me? Here’s how: Instead of kicking me outta his bunk after our nightly rumpus, to sleep on the straw pallet I been using, he snuggled me to his mighty muscular bosom and mine own ear could hear his heart a-thumpin’ as he stared into my baby blues. The captain ordered Cook to give me double a’ that tasty Filipino chow and between that and nightly doses of his own manly essence (the French way, in case you’re wonderin’, still a virgin for ya, wink) mine own body has swelled, from a trim 175 lbs to a meaty 205, all a’ it seemingly gone to my shoulders an’ chest. I gots actual knockers now, chum, and I likes to play with ‘em nearly as much as does my erstwhile host. A’course, the crew became violently jealous, once it became known I had the skipper wrapped around my pinky finger. Them fights was sneaky, on account a’ the captain’s ban on brawlin’. Gutpunches and arm-twistin’ mostly, like I had a whole ship of mean older brothers. But that’s likely why I gots a stomach like corrugated iron now, and arms with muscles hangin’ offa ‘em like hams. So while I will miss my Capt. Manny I gets ta’ take some a’ his physique with me, if that ain’t too sappy. Hope I’m making ya jealous with all a’ this mushy stuff and you’ll see fit to come Down Under an’ make me forget his name (whether by knocking my brains around, or otherwise…) Warmly, Liam Liam, Hoosegow no more! My dainty corporal (who, let us be fair, has excellent taste) finally came through, and I escaped the day after receiving your last card. You must perhaps be excited at the prospect of having muscled up bigger than your salty bear. Well it was a fine try, however I regret to inform you that I have myself added 50 lbs of beef to my sturdy frame during my stay here in Panama and now stride the trembling earth at a robust 235. I look forward very much to a side-by-side comparison, though this may take some further time as I will have to try for that other canal on account of needing to quickly head in the opposite direction of this one. Mackinley kindly provided a distraction by ripping a cannon out of the parapet by its rusty bolts with his freakish Old Man strength, and I mustn't waste the opportunity. So to the Suez am I bound, on what ship I know not yet but hopefully one with extra-large bunks for extra-virile men like myself (har-de-har-har). Please keep me apprised of your own location and head in a westerly direction if possible such that our roughhouse reunion might come sooner and sweeter than later. Yours sincerely, Hank 8 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DawnFire98 Posted January 10 Share Posted January 10 Yay, the two hot sailors are back! Random sidenote: nice, how you gave them distinct manners of talking / writing to make them unique. @Broody 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lutz Posted January 12 Share Posted January 12 Love it! 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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