Monday, October 4
The Day

Monday. The sun rose in the east, as it is wont to do.  Raoul and Gonzo arose bright and early, eager to begin the annual Captain Crunch Cruise. This traditional event marks the final voyage of the year for the vessel W0X0F.
Raoul staggered to the bathroom, but halted as Gonzo called after him.
"Raoul, this is the first time in 17 years I've said this, but don't turn the fan on."
"Why not?" Raoul inquired.
"It's broken," Gonzo replied.
"Oh, okay." He started for the bathroom again, then halted abruptly. "Wait just a cotton-picking minute. That means you didn't turn the fan on?"
"Right," Gonzo confirmed.
"How do I know it's safe?"
"Here," Gonzo said, handing him a caged Norwegian Blue canary. "Pretend you are in West Virginia. Or Wales."
Raoul eyed the motionless bird warily but gingerly carried the canary into the bathroom. He returned less than five minutes later, choking and gasping.
"I've got a problem with this canary," he announced.
"What's wrong with it?"
"I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. He’s dead, that's what's wrong with it!"
"No, no, he’s uh,...he's resting."
"Look, Gonzo, I know a dead canary when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now."
"No, no he's not dead, he's, he's resting! Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, ain’t it, eh? Beautiful plumage!"
"The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead."
"No, no, no, no, no, no! He’s resting!"
"All right then, if he's resting, I'll wake him up. Hello, Mister Canary!" Raoul shouted at the cage. I've got a lovely fresh beer for you if you show..."
Gonzo quickly banged the cage with his fist.
"There, he moved!" Gonzo shouted.
"No he didn't, that was you hitting the cage!" Raoul cried with outrage.
"I never!"
"Yes, you did!"
"I never, never did anything..."
Raoul turned back to the cage. "Hello, canary! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!" He took the canary from the cage and thumped its head on the counter with a loud thump. He tossed it into the air and watched it plummet to the floor. "Now that's what I call a dead canary," he commented.
"No, no, no," Gonzo insisted. "He’s stunned!"
"Stunned?"
"Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was waking up! Norwegian Blues stun easily."
"Um...now look...now look, Gonzo, I've definitely had enough of this. That canary is definitely deceased, but when you handed it to me not five minutes ago you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being tired and hung over following a prolonged chirp."
"Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the beer tents."
"Pining for the beer tents? What kind of shit is that? Look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got in the bathroom?"
"The Norwegian Blue prefers sleeping on it's back! Remarkable bird, ain’t it, Raoul? Lovely plumage!"
"Look, I took the liberty of examining that canary when I escaped from the bathroom, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been nailed there."
There was a long pause as Gonzo frantically cogitated.
"Well, of course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent them apart with its beak, and voom! Cheep, cheep, cheep! He’s gone."
"’Voom?’" Gonzo, this bird wouldn't fucking voom if you put four million volts through it! He’s fucking’ demised!"
"No, no! He’s pining!"
"He’s not pining! He’s passed on! This canary is no more! He has ceased to be! He’s expired and gone to meet his maker! He’s a stiff! Bereft of life, he rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed him to the perch he'd be pushing up the daisies! His metabolic processes are now history! He’s off the twig! He’s kicked the bucket, he’s shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the fuckin’ choir invisible! He’s fuckin’ snuffed it! This is an ex-canary!"
Gonzo paused again. "Well, I'd better replace it, then." He took a quick peek in the cabinet. "Sorry, Raoul, I've had a look and I’m fresh out of out of canaries. I guess you’ll just have to take your chances."
"I see. I see," Raoul muttered. "I get the picture. Probably out of paper too."
Gonzo paused, watching his cat run off down the hall with the canary. "I got a corncob."
"Never mind," Raoul shouted, slamming the door.
Once Raoul was reasonably clean (and odor free) they did a little work on the web site, then headed for the marina. Gonzo drove along with his head up his ass (probably looking for corncobs,) and drove right by the marina. "Oops," he commented, turning the Gonzovan around and following Cap'n Cothern to the dock.
They loaded the boat with a supply of Liberty Ale and were soon joined by Mary, wearing a Catholic Schoolgirl outfit. Raoul and Gonzo's eyes glowed with a demented light as they considered the possibilities.
"I think you had better go change," Cap'n Cothern advised Mary, as Raoul and Gonzo began to giggle. "You're just going to set these two off again."
Mary changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and Cap'n Cothern flagged down a passerby to take a picture of the crew for the final voyage. Unfortunately, he forgot to put film in the camera, so there is no photo here.
They headed down the channel under power, pausing only for a quick return to the dock to retrieve the camera. The channel passage involved a rather tortous course, known only to real salts like Cap'n Cothern and Gonzo. The course required them to first hug the left bank until reaching the second bouy, then a sharp turn to starboard perpendicular to the course of the river until reaching the center of the river. At this point they turn to port and point the bow at the life jacket hanging in the tree on the right bank (hoping it hadn't been moved.) At this point they could see the tracks in the bottom made by boats with slightly deeper drafts.
"Okay, Gary," Gonzo called from his lookout perch in the bow. "Stay in the left lane and get ready to turn left."
Cap'n Cothern nodded and turned on his directional signal.
From this point they turned to port 27 degrees and headed for the bow of the pontoon boat with twin engine moored to the left bank, hoping that it too had not been moved.
"Start the stopwatch," Cap'n Cothern called. "We have to execute a loop in exactly 12 seconds."
With the loop completed they resumed course towards the pontoon boat. Exactly 23 feet from the boat, when the pontoons passenger's eyes had reached aproximately 92% dilation they adjusted course to the right and Cothern had the entire crew lift their left legs six inches. They put their left leg in, they took their left leg out, they put their left foot in and they shook it all about.
"Didn't I do this at the dump station last night" Raoul asked.
From this point the sailed straight ahead and finally hoisted the sails as they cleared the breakwater. Like the SS Minnow they enjoyed a three hour cruise, but unlike the SS Minnow they ended up back at the dock rather than an uncharted desert isle.
"I wonder if Mary Ann or Ginger had a Catholic Schoolgirl outfit with her?" Gonzo wondered."
"Or Mrs. Howell," Raoul leered.
"Shut up, slut-puppy," Mary commented. "Besides, only Gilligan had one."
They moored the boat, lowered the mast, and drank a quick toast with a bottle of 12-year old Irish whiskey Cap'n Cothern produced from the bowels of the cabin.
"Damn," Raoul commented. "12-year old Jamesons. I feel special."
"Don't," Gonzo said. "It was only 2 years old when he bought it."
They drank their toast and headed for the Brothers Three Restaurant for a pizza and more beer, where Cap'n Cothern took good care of his crew and picked up the tab. (Thanks, Gary.) With their appetites satisfied, Raoul and Gonzo returned to Stately Gonzo manor and worked on the web site until after midnight, pausing only to retrieve the camera from the hold of the W0X0F and wipe off the dead fish.