by Mushroom Montoya
Unlocking the dogs, opening the hatch,
Hurry, hurry, I must be on my way,
I ran in my flip flops down the passageway,
In my effort to catch the morning light.
Last
night's dream, of that the old Northwest Indian,
Who kept the sun hidden from the ancient Raven,
Cackled and taunted a sinister warning,
Of the treachery on the way to the tunnel.
I must be brave enough, to run fast enough,
Over the bilge, passed the boiler,
Through the next watertight compartment,
Sliding with my hands down the rails,
My feet barely skimming above each rung,
Before kerplunking on the deck,
And running to the repair locker,
Only to find him with both hands,
Trying to containing his brains
From falling out of his hangover,
“Snap to, get up, get into your skivvies,
Our required uniform of the day.”
I need to get him out out of this windowless cage,
He had asked me to hide him in, the night before,
Where spanner wrenches, sump pumps,
Fire hoses, and 6 foot long pry bars are stored.
Today is the day that we must show our grit
To endure what we must, to show we can take it.”
Even if we are only swiney, whiney pollywogs.
I grab his hand and help him up.
We run up the ladder, turn the dogs,
Open the hatch and climb out, scurrying
Into the mess decks for a breakfast of slosh,
Shit on a shingle, and green eggs and ham.
Bleep,
bleep, Attention! Attention!
The shellbacks are screaming crazy commands,
“Choke it down, You’ve got to go,
You slimy, smelly, sweaty pollywogs.
Get your
asses up and at ‘em
Get to King Neptune to be judged
And sentenced for your crime.
Beg for mercy, you pussy piles of shit!
Bow down,
low in supplication,
To kiss the toe of Neptune’s drag queen.
Smile wide and look real pretty
Before you kiss their greasy baby’s belly.
Don’t
forget to stop at the dentist
He’ll open your mouth, check it twice
No, we never said he would be nice.
He’ll
toss in a raw oyster and squirt in Tabasco.
You mustn’t lose it, oh hell no!
Or back to the beginning you'll go.”
They’ll beat us with shalalies,
Made from worn out scratchy fire hoses,
Who cried so often that now
They are only good for whipping
Pollywogs who move too slow
As if slogging through thick snow
When we all know
The sun is playing hide and seek.
We run the gamut, being hosed and whacked
Till we reach the ladder that tunnels down
Into a stinky, smelly, foul, skinny town,
Filled with bilge sludge, monkey grease, and coffee grounds.
The shellbacks waste not time,
Whacking our nearly naked butts.
They smack us sliding down the tunnel
Into the gooey, sewage of muck.
“What
are you now? Still a pussy pollywog?!
Tell me, as you bathe and twist
In this trough of piss and shit,
What are you now after crossing the equator?”
I spit out the oyster, wipe the gunk off my face.
I stand up in a timid defiance.
“Is this the end? Are we done?
Am I finally a Shellback now?”
“Yes, you are! You god damned prick!
Get out! Go wash your precious dick.
Don’t just stand there in that sludge.
Tell me who you are. and say it loud,
“I’m a shellback, Navy proud!”
We got washed off with fires hoses
Cleaning away the slop from our noses
Washing away the polliwog disgrace
And putting a smile on every sailor's face.
Knowing that we were now a crew
Of victorious mighty Shellbacks,
Feasting on lobster, chomping on steak,
We've crossed the equator, for goodness sake!
