by Robert Lyon
As Artimus headed into the pentagon Smity looked around and stepped forward as though he were the next to speak,
Clarkson seeing this shook her head and headed over to where
Smity was standing but as he begun to dig in his pockets and pulled out his wallet she paused and observed the rest of the survivors doing the same. Clarkson pulled out her money as well and started to take up a collection, Smity handed her some, three dollars and forty five cents with that same absurd smile on his face.
As the collection of money was occurring throughout the landing there was a vibe in the air, everyone had a sense that things were going from bad to worse. There had been no consideration of money in anything anyone had done. The
Captain had been over heard in the pentagon using the word
‘monopoly’ and now suspicions were high as to what game would be played upon them next.
The former crew were in small camps as outsiders to the pentagon, there were the small camps circling the pentagon composed of people seeking a place in the former captains new social order, and out upon the beach stood those that rejected everything about these goings on. Those hold outs stared at the ocean horizon until they got dizzy from vertigo and fell over.
Hudlow thought he might find and be able to eat sand crabs but all he found was a sand spider that in his delirium became his pet he called ‘snack’.
Snack the sand spider was actually several sand spiders.
Whichever sand spider was crawling on James Hudlow at the time was surely his pet ‘snack’. James marveled at how quickly snack could move, James would see snack on his right hand then looking left ‘snack’ was on his left foot and with a cough
‘snack’ was suddenly in James beard. James knew ‘snack’ had a family, a home, and a job…well a spider job and home in any case and it made James home sick. James would talk to ‘snack’ about his home and wife and together they would share the stories of home life and life on the beaches and seas.
Jane Spayner watched James talking to himself with spiders running all over him as though it were a television show. She found James to be something of a young Jackie Gleason. She had especially liked the episode where James and ‘Snack’ were going to make a boat out of sea weed, James couldn’t believe it were possible but ‘snack’ had done it before, after all how else would ‘snack’ and his family have made it to the island from new York? Clarkson whispered to Spayner, “I wonder home long it’ll be before he hurts himself?” Jane replied, “I just think it’s funny when he begs snack to get out of his ass and digs
between his butt cheeks with a handful of sand.” James standing of in the distance near the crashing surf said, “Ohh snack, the girls are having a giggle fest again.”
Eric was gathering more twigs for his tree house, Hudlow and the others wondering the beach thought he’d decide to become a bird and build a nest before he flew away. Eric’s bird house was well underway but it looked as though it would never support a human’s weight.
Artimus in the pentagon was speaking with Swishzel and
Wildly. In something of a hush the three were leaned in and
Artimus said, “Once the money is collected I will buy extra food from the natives. We need to maintain leverage to stay in control, any cases of desertion must be dealt with swiftly and very publicly.” Swishzel asked, “Aren’t those natives just some of our crew?” Artimus replied, “They went native…the absolutely went native and somehow developed an understanding of the island. Mormus and I scouted for water and searched for food and there was absolutely none…and yet the rations keep coming. As far as we are concerned they are natives until the day we are rescued. I may have to talk big with this crew, but I want you to remain respectful of them as natives and if necessary I will glance at you as a signal for you to publicly correct me about the personal attacks I am making on them. We have to present correctly.” Robert Wildy sat astonished. This explained a lot he had seen on the ship, ‘presenting correctly’ was apparently a code for ‘fuck them in the ass and take their wallet’. Wildly’s stomach churned and growled, Artimus glanced at him starring him in the eye with something of a monstrous demeanor then point at him and said, “I agree with you completely.” Wildly commented much later that it hadn’t occurred to him what the captain had meant by that at the time
but it seemed as though Artimus had made an assumption about what was running through Robert’s mind and just went with it,
Robert had decided long after these events it was just Dave
Artimus’s way. Presumption didn’t always rule the day under
Captain Artimus, it was usually a general confusion that set the mood and tone.
Smity walked up to the pentagon entrance with the last of the collection and said, “I have the money sir.” Artimus replied,
“Give it to my cabin boy.” and pointed at Wildly. Wildly looked back in the captains direction in disgust and dismay. Smity said,
“Cabin boy huh? I sure that’s a great honor. Here’s the money cabin boy.” Wildly walked up to Smity to take the money and whispered, “Fuck you” Smity whisper back, “I say it’s a great honor because I remember the first few days of boot camp, any title, no matter how bullshit it seems later becomes authority.
And it sounds like you have a high one.” Wildly began to see what all this political manipulation was about and smirked as he took the money from Smity. Smity said, “Show a little pride cabin boy those are the hard earned dollars of the united states navy.” Smity popped a salute and Wildly returned his salute.
Wildly placed the money over near where he slept in the pentagon and Smity said, “Ahh, Captian maybe the term ‘cabin boy’ is quite right.” Artimus looked back at him and said, “He keeps me warm at night and may just be saving my life by doing so, He was also a Mess Specialist feeding me. The term cabin boy is fitting, I trust him even as his ass is nuzzling my jock in his sleep.” Smity looked stunned and with a distant look said,
“I’m sure it’s a great honor sir.” as Dave walked back to lay down near the pentagon wall he said, “Yes, a great honor for you both.” with a sarcastic tone. Smity just stood there dazed and out of focus. And Robert Wildly said, “Your dismissed
Smity” Smity slowly turned his head to look at Wildly and said and a clear serious tone, “Thank you cabin boy.”
Atrisia Wells was just in ear shot and line of sight as this happen. Atrisia walked over to Smity as he stood there staring blankly at the ocean. He looked at her and she said, “Cabin boy huh?” Smity looked back to the ocean and said, “Ya…we have one of those now.” Atrisia replied, “Maybe you should sit down” As smity sat down he asked nearly brought to tears, “You going to tell me we have a cabin girl too…or maybe I’m the cabin girl?” Atrisia replied, “Ya, so lose the mustache. Fuck your crazy dude, maybe he’s just being sarcastic.” Smity replied,
“It doesn’t work like that, it was once pointed out to me that
‘this is a science’, just a couple of months ago infact and this titles of respect, endearment, or mockery are the attention that results in authority. He went on to say ‘these idiots seem to think we’re in a monarchy’ and ‘to watch what titles I accepted’ but I couldn’t help but admit I’d take any title. And now the same guy that taught me that comes over and drops of water like he’s setting water down in a tiger cage.” Atrisia asked, “So he’s right then?” Smity said, “He said it’s actually sort of obvious, it’s just so many people don’t stick to their station, they think they out smarted the system by being a doctor that changes his own oil.
We’re all just arrogant, we know what should happen and we are satisfied with knowing, fuck actually doing it, that’d be work.”
Atrisia looked over to the opening into the pentagon and sat next to Smity and said, “Ya, we know what should happen. He lost the ship now he’s stealing our money.” Smity just continued staring blankly at the horizon.
Near the tree line Eric Milson was hard at work on his tree hou
se, he had yet to give any thought as to where those beers in his fantasies would come from but as he gazed across the beach
to McCree and the command master chief he had an idea as to where the kids at his barbeque would come from. The more he wove those twigs together the more determined he became to look down upon the world from a lofty childhood fantasy to prove he was the ‘Big Daddy’.
News of Robert Wildly’s new title of ‘Cabin Boy’ was spreading quickly; hushed rumors and giggles made him a focus of attention. The sexual innuendo in the questions he was asked was at times nauseating and at others genuine cause for laughter.
Those that sought him out either sought to accomplish a good relationship with him issuing sympathy for the bullying he was suffering or to present as competition for the position of
Captain’s bed warmer. This aided Artimus in a circular reasoning fashion, with Wildly receiving sympathy for his relationship with the former captain, the captain achieved an understanding as to his superiority; it was just implied. Dave
Artimus had used this type of sideways attack at deliberated reasoning over the course of his whole life. What those that had to deal with him thought was irrelevant in the face of what they felt. That night Wildly would cry like a baby in the night while
Dave Artimus proved he was a man. The only other sound heard that night on the landings side of the island was a male voice from the tree line thought to be Eric Milson or possibly the long sleeping executive officer calling out the phrase, “Drum solo!!”
It had been nearly a week of this when the stress got to the former crew and violence had erupted once again separating the groups into the Captains ‘in crowd’ and the cast aside castaways.
Artimus sat in his empire of apathy as the native’s toiled away providing basic sustenance in the form of rations. He had collected nearly two hundred dollars in what they later referred
to as taxes. As complacency set in there became hide away locale and places to be festive as well as solemn. Once his majesty Dave Artimus was prepared he would purchase food for a great celebration of survival that some suspected was something of a coronation. I had made a delivery of the fish rations and caught them sarcastically referring to Artimus as ‘his majesty’ only to witness him correcting them with the retort,
“Her majesty the queen is married to his highness the king…you’ve got the genders confused.” I knew how badly things were going but I don’t think I was proved to be a fool by not having foreseen their rebellion.
It was me that Artimus, whom I referred to as a former captain, tried to buy addition rations from with American currency. I was dumbfounded; did he expect I would make a quick run to a grocery store for some sandwiches?
Aritmus was standing at the opening in the tree line to the path we had beaten with our frequent trips when he said, “I can finally offer you some compensation for your efforts, but I need something extra to show them ‘the good faith’ is still intact. Of all the money on the island I offer you twenty percent of the only currency present.” I replied, “Artimus, I have no…”
Artimus interjected, “That’s Captain. Lyon have you lost your mind?” I continued, “Look captain there is no monetary system here, those dollars are worthless there is no grocery store, or hardware store. You see those plants over there? The grain in those plumes are what I need, we actually made a small loaf of risen bread.” The blooms or cluster of red I had pointed to were sorghum according to one of the Pilipino from the former crew, the yeast we had found was a pungent and disgusting mold but as hungry as we were we recognized the smell of yeast.
Artimus was both glad for the hope of bread while simultaneously dashed to find out the sense of power and influence as well as an innate sense of security slipped through his fingers. He had planned to barter refusing any offer made until a week had past to ensure he had elevated the value of the money to its maximum potential. He had intended to set himself as the bank of the island and struggled to remember what he could, and devise new versions of the derivative schemes, stock trading, interest and investments of all manners. He stood there a long while starring at those dollars in his hand, so long in fact I had to gesture to one of his ‘in crowd’ to tend to him and left him there that way.
Back at the boiler site Michael and I had nearly finished our revised fishing boat. Mitch and Michelle had worked on a small triangular sail, while Jennifer and Mike maintained the boilers making fresh water trading off with Tommi and Tammy.
Dave Miles and Athena Williams had been working on turning the sun dial into a navigational circle, using celestial navigation to work out our longitude and latitude; I had added a farmer’s almanac aspect to the circles around the staff in the ground since
Megan and Tim had been gathering grain.
The quartermaster koleson, a second class petty officer, with a pension for the unusual had been laying low. The Captain had certain needs and desires, to be recognized, feared and celebrated. Now that the captain had a cabin boy koleson felt left out; as though the game of cat and mouse had left him not played with at all. He had discovered the subterfuge the captain and his cabin boy were using a sexual intimidation tactic that had, for years before, been reserved for ships with all male crews and this man’s man had discovered the cock tease.
Koleson enjoyed participating in displays of machismo and
sometimes embracing the sympathies of other hormonally unstable men. It was a game of passive aggressive threat and black mail Artimus had practiced with koleson but Artimus enjoyed the mockery and shaming aspects and only endured the shock and humility himself instead of languishing in it. Koleson embraced a fevered blush, the sudden onset of hormonal urges and the feeling of butterflies in his lower abdomen.
Koleson was racked with jealousy, he couldn’t blame the cabin boy and he had never been dominated as he desired by the captain, his efforts had bared no true reward and only solicited the most passing forms of attention. Now he would be more direct and would utilize the technics of the straight sailors and allow their prey to seduce themselves, bringing on the fever of lust and he would quench those flames with his effeminate allure. To a straight man his mustache seemed to be a mask to conceal his true identity, which he thought was taken as being mysterious and was still an allure. But to the gay man a mustache was a sign of virility and a textured contour to be experienced rather than observed. Koleson had decided to plan his seductive pout which always brought the dominate men to him, throwing him to his knees and forcing his true frail demeanor out into the light to be gawked at and acknowledged publicly, the only form of true social acceptance he knew other than sodomy.
Koleson was sitting in quiet contemplation. He recalled his stepfather’s claim that Koleson’s real father sold Slurpee’s at
Wham concerts and there were no beverages involved. All his life his stepfather had berated and mocked his biological father in ways he was just too young to understand until the day he met his first papi. Koleson had met a middle aged Cuban man at a party in his first year in the navy. He said his name was
‘Fellatio’. Fellatio had broad shoulders, a deep skin tone and was virtually body hair free with the only exceptions being his head and mustachio. Fellatio offered young QMSN Koleson ‘a ride in his sports car he would never forget’ and with the aid of a little ecstasy Koleson discovered fellatio was his true calling.
His step father’s predictions were all true; he would in fact make someone a good wife someday.
Koleson stepped through the pentagon entrance with Dave
Artimus. Koleson explained, “look sugar, I know you like to be the mac daddy…” and with a z snap he continued, “but it ain’t happenin’” Artimus looked back at koleson and asked, “Did you get hit in the head?” Koleson replied, “Look, no more pretending. You’re an insecure domineering guy with a hard on for me…” Artimus interjected, “What!!??” Koleson responded,
“Oh, you don’t remember the time you put the homophobic guy in the brig cell so he coul
dn’t intervene and ordered me to suck you off?” Artimus looked at Koleson with a smug smile and said with a laugh, “Ya, and you did it!” Koleson smiled back effeminately and with a raise of his right knee and a slight bow he replied, “That’s right. and as soon as I whipped that thing out you were rock hard and ready. Time to stop playing straight.”
Artimus scoffed, “I was showing that guy my crew would follow any and every order I issued.” Koleson responded, “No babe…you were getting your dick sucked. period.” Artimus angrily replied, “Fuck you fag!” Koleson unbuckled his belt and retorted, “Now is as good a time as ever.”
In astonishment Dave stood there starring and drooling as
Koleson exposed himself to the man he completely accepted as his ‘Captain’. Artimus had enjoyed feeling dominate to other men and berating them in ways he thought they lack the sophistication to understand. He would insult them using a
sophisticated English and then be reassured in his superiority as they thanked him and this had brought him sexual arousal as well as personal satisfaction. But in recent years an associate’s degree from Virginia in the year nineteen seventy eight did not suffice as a level of education establishing that level of superiority. By current standards he had effectively dropped out in the eighth grade, lacked vocabulary and fluency, as well as having lost the glimmer of youth which somehow in years past had carried an illusion of propriety in his conduct by virtue of his clothing which was so common it was referred to as a uniform.
All of Dave Artimus’s acts of depravity and hidden fantasies were now out on the flight line to be observed and evaluated just as a younger man of approximately twenty nine who prides himself in being a ‘bitch’ was about to upset Dave fantasy world of illusion. Dave tremble and could swear he heard to voice of a popular Cuban actor of the seventies just outside the pentagon walls issue the phrase, “Welcome to fantasy island…I am your host ‘Harry Balls’” Artimus squealed in frustration as Koleson stood there awkward looking to a straight man but apparently enticing to a gay man…he had his dungaree pants down around his ankles with off white briefs down around his ankles as well, his shirt was fully buttoned and his hat was still on, his hair was dirty an oily, his face un- groomed leaving his mustache over grown and lopsided as he shuffled in the sand with arms extended as though he were a child at an amusement park seeking a hug from a costumed character playing a cartoon dog. Artimus was confounded but only by the shear intensity of the sexual arousal he was experiencing, Artimus asked, “Did you drug me?” Koleson replied, “Because I gave you a boner you think I drugged you?