Prompt and Circumstance

Sozzled Sailors Anonymous

'beach' (Sept. 16-18, 2016)

"SO... " said Ted Bear Esq. "I'm only on the river - not the sea - it's true. BUT - I've seen bottles wash up on the beaches. Lots of times!"

"They're NOT beaches, you lily-livered landlubber. They're sand-spits."

"Who're you calling 'lily-livered'? AND a landlubber!" And Ted harrumphed loudly, spluttering a bit, too. "... never heard anything like it in my whole life. And I thought we were mates, Chas." If Ted would've had eyebrows, they'd have met and gotten knotted in the middle of his hairy brow.

"Well, we are mates," and Chas muttered under his breath, you silly old sausage. "Mates for life. But you're talking to a Sea Captain of Sumptuous and highly Significant Ocean Liners, you know. And you CAN take that with a pinch of salt." Chas sniffed with some disdain. River boat captains were probably to be pitied more than envied. Sad really, plying the same old, same old path, up and down the same old waters. The worst they saw was a bit of choppiness. Hells bells and bottles of blood, sometimes they're stranded for weeks in a backwater in drought times.

Out loud he said, "But look here, old chap. The bottles you're talking about are waste products from over-indulgence - NOT the historic 'message in a bottle' types we see bobbing around at sea, ending up miles and miles away, years and years after setting sail. I tell you what Ted. They are truly the flotsam and jetsam of life on the rolling waves."

"Hummpphh... " Ted grunted out loud, pretending he didn't agree one little bit. Deep inside however, he had to admit Captain Chas was right. Come to think of it, I've never really seen a proper 'message bottle'. Never, he thought (but he wasn't about to admit it for Chas to gloat over). Silly old goat!

Captain Chas took another large shloop of their favourite Rum, to restore his rather rambunctious reminiscences. With full confidence reinstated, he continued his best ever story about 'message bottles'.

"I remember the time coming around Cape Horn on a rare trip captaining a racing yacht of Russkies. The lads were SO excited, I broke out a bottle of sparkling wine for them to celebrate. Of course, they polished that off quick smart, and decided to launch it overboard with a message recording our triumph."

"S'pose now you're going to tell me that's where the words 'on the rocks' came from?" Ted nudged Chas exuberantly, nearly knocking him off his perilous perch on Ted's knee.

"No!" Chas beamed with excitement. "The bottle of bubbly came from a South Australian winery called 'Jacob's Creek', some 17,000 kms. across two great oceans, and it came to rest... intact... on a beach just 4 hours away from where the grapes grew to produce it!" Now Captain Chas nearly fell off all by himself in his excitement. "It took three years, against currents, foul weather conditions and against all the odds. But there it was."

"Well, well, well-ll-ll... " Ted was befuddled - but one thing was clear as crystal. "We gotta finish off this here bottle o' Rum, me hearty. Just bear up, finish it and write our own bottle message. Right now!"

"And say?"

"Ahh... it's a pushover for a clear-thinking freshwater bloke like me," and under his breath he muttered, not all glugged up like an old salt like you! And Ted wrote -

'SOS... SOS...
before our spirits evaporate like the spirits of Sea Master Buckeye's Rum... before our very eyes.
From Chas and Ted's Excellent Adventure'