A story sent in by Tom Christensen LTJG (SC) '60 - '62
ARE YOU REGULAR NAVY?
Willy and me were lollygagging by the
being aloft to boy-butter up the antennas
and were just
perched on a bollard eyeballing a couple
of bilge rats and
crescent hammers to pack monkey shit
around a fitting on a handybilly.
All of a sudden the dicksmith started
hard-assing one of
the deck apes for lifting his pogey bait.
was a sewer pipe sailor and the deckape
was a gator. Maybe
being black shoes on a bird farm
surrounded by a gaggle of
cans didn't set right with either of
The deck ape ran through the nearest
hatch and dogged it
tight because he knew the penis machinist
was going to lay below,
catch him between decks and punch him in
the snot locker. He'd
probably wind up on the binnacle list but
Doc would find a way to
gundeck the paper
or give it the deep six to keep himself above board.
We heard the skivvywaver announce over
the bitch box that the
creamed foreskins on toast and SOS ready on
the mess decks, so we cut and run to
avoid the clusterscrew when
the twidgets and cannon cockers knew chow
We were balls to the wall for the barn
and everyone was preparing
to hit the beach as soon as we doubled-up
and threw the brow over.
I had a ditty bag full of fufu juice that
I was gonna spread on thick
for the bar hogs with those sweet bosnias.
Sure beats the hell out of
brown bagging. Might even hit the
Acey-Deucy club and try to hook up
with a WESTPAC widow. They were always
leaving snail trails on the
dance floor on amateur night.
If you understand this, you're Regular