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vermin · 03-21-2007, 12:08 PM

Vlasic submarine slammed two gerkhins into our side, chief. It was comin' back, from the island of Oversized Picnic Foods, just delivered the mustard. The Hiroshima mustard. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn't see the first pickle for about a half an hour. Dill. Thirteen footer. You know how you know that when you're in the water, chief? You tell by lookin' from the stem to the other end. Well, we didn't know. `Cause our mustard mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. They didn't even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, chief. The pickles come cruisin'. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it's... kinda like `ol squares in battle like you see on a calendar, like the battle of Waterloo. And the idea was, the pickle would go for nearest man and then he'd start poundin' and hollerin' and screamin' and sometimes the pickle would go away. Sometimes he wouldn't go away. Sometimes that pickle, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a pickle, he's got...lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eye. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white. And then, ah then you hear that terrible high pitch screamin' and the ocean turns red and spite of all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in and rip you to pieces.
Y'know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men! I don't know how many pickles, maybe a thousand! I don't know how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday mornin' chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player, Onion's mate. I thought he was asleep, reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up and down in the water, just like a kinda top. Up ended. Well... he'd been bitten in half below the waist. Noon the fifth day, Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ketchupa saw us, he swung in low and he saw us. He was a young pilot, a lot younger than Mr. Hooper, anyway he saw us and come in low. And three hours later a big fat PB&J comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened? Waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on mayo again. So, eleven hundred men went in the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the pickles took the rest, June the 29, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the mustard.

03-21-2007, 12:08 PM	#42 (permalink)
vermin Indifferent to anti-matter Location: Tucson, AZ	Vlasic submarine slammed two gerkhins into our side, chief. It was comin' back, from the island of Oversized Picnic Foods, just delivered the mustard. The Hiroshima mustard. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in twelve minutes. Didn't see the first pickle for about a half an hour. Dill. Thirteen footer. You know how you know that when you're in the water, chief? You tell by lookin' from the stem to the other end. Well, we didn't know. `Cause our mustard mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. They didn't even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, chief. The pickles come cruisin'. So we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know it's... kinda like `ol squares in battle like you see on a calendar, like the battle of Waterloo. And the idea was, the pickle would go for nearest man and then he'd start poundin' and hollerin' and screamin' and sometimes the pickle would go away. Sometimes he wouldn't go away. Sometimes that pickle, he looks right into you. Right into your eyes. You know the thing about a pickle, he's got...lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eye. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be livin'. Until he bites ya and those black eyes roll over white. And then, ah then you hear that terrible high pitch screamin' and the ocean turns red and spite of all the poundin' and the hollerin' they all come in and rip you to pieces. Y'know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men! I don't know how many pickles, maybe a thousand! I don't know how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday mornin' chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player, Onion's mate. I thought he was asleep, reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up and down in the water, just like a kinda top. Up ended. Well... he'd been bitten in half below the waist. Noon the fifth day, Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ketchupa saw us, he swung in low and he saw us. He was a young pilot, a lot younger than Mr. Hooper, anyway he saw us and come in low. And three hours later a big fat PB&J comes down and start to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened? Waitin' for my turn. I'll never put on mayo again. So, eleven hundred men went in the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the pickles took the rest, June the 29, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the mustard. __________________ If puns were sausages, this would be the wurst.