Captain’s Log – Soju Date: 3 bottles and 2 shots
Another Incheon to Jeju run, but this time with a twist. It seems that the ship will be full of highschoolers. Nice. Nubile young girls, hopefully in school skirts, who haven’t yet been through the room salon wringer.
Man, I love this job. I’m the fucking captain! If I want to march some of that sweet schoolgirl tail up the steep stairs from deck 2 to deck 3 (the ones made of metal mesh grating), then they’ll ask, “How fast?”
As usual I got a bunch of papers about some old shit. Ballast weight blah blah. Cargo containers blah blah. Don’t deviate from blah blah. Honestly, who fucking cares? Like I have the energy to read that shit. My head hurts so much from last night. I must have had a solid 3 liters of soju. That hooker from the back alleys at the dock, the one covered in bruises and missing an eye, she must have taken whatever was in my wallet. No worries, I just got paid and loaded up from the ATM; I’ll be hitting those Jeju whores pretty hard once I pop me a Korean-made Kialis-uh. In meantime, I can hardly focus on this tiny print they want me to go through. I’m pretty sure I’m older than the guy who gave them to me… he should be asking me how to run my boat, not telling me. Little punks with their university degrees and charts and GPS… At least the owner of this rust bucket is straight awesomeness. Got his own cult going once I heard. Fantastic. Us ajosshi are the chosen ones, and it’s about fucking time the rest of the world started to know that. But those middle-management, mascara-wearing twats… what the fuck? Why can’t they wear poorly-made hiking clothes like a normal man?
I’ve had a hard life. Don’t these suits understand that? My dad hit me when I was bad. Military service had no satin sheets. In highschool I had to study for fuck’s sake! Now I’m balding, impotent without pharmaceutical aids and I can’t make it a week without getting blackout drunk. Where’s my medal?
Whatever. At least I’m in charge of my boat. I like to keep it (giggle) ship shape! The food must be boiled for no less than 5 days. I won’t have any texture to any meat or vegetables on my ship. Passengers can choose between one of 3 world-famous flavors: chemically spicy, rotten bean curd or desiccatingly salty.
Seriously this hangover is killing me. I’m going to open a bottle of Dr. Soju’s magic elixir and check the CCTV feeds for upskirt pics of the teenies while they board.
Captain’s Log – Soju Date: 4 bottles, 1 shot
A couple bottles of Chamisul and a bowl of… something I couldn’t identify, but I’m sure it was traditional Korean fare and therefore good…. and that headache is mostly gone. I’ll have to go for a top-up in a bit. We’re about to leave port.
I walked about a bit. Grabbed one girl’s thighs and made it look like I was chastising her about her short skirt length. Oh man, those milky thighs. She must have been all of 15. She was all dolled up like those k-pop former whores on TV. Maybe I should have ordered her up to the bridge for ‘inspection’. With my luck she would have turned it into some big thing. Just what I need right now, more legal trouble. Fucking DUIs… that and the brawl in the playground with that asshole who forgot I went into the military service 6 whole months before he did 30 years ago…. And the indecent exposure thing, which wasn’t really my fault as I passed out in the alley while I was taking a piss and before I could zip up. I’m sure it’ll be okay. I pay a couple fines, I do some bowing, I explain my unique situation… but in the meantime, I’ll save the kiddie-fiddling for that upcoming trip to Thailand.
At least the third mate is passable. Seems she was a disowned runaway. Couldn’t quite make it on the whore circuit… wanted to keep some kind of honor or some bullshit. I told her I’d let her drive if she showed me her tits and ass. I love it when they cry and whimper…
Toot toot bitches, time to set sail.
Captain’s Log – Soju Date: 4 bottles, 8 shots
Shit. I’m behind schedule. Should have been faster in the bathroom. I don’t know why I have such digestive problems. It must be something about the radiation from Fukishima. Fucking Jap bastards. At least I saved time by not flushing or washing my hands.
Seriously though, I can’t be late. Happy hour pricing at the brothels ends early this season, and I’m not paying full price.
The idiot second mate they sent me just came up and asked if he should run the safety drills. Unbelievable! I scream-talked at him for 15 minutes about bothering me with his pansy bullshit. He hung his head like a scolded dog. I feel like a big swinging dick now. I love this job.
I’m gonna tell that whore third mate to take a shortcut to shave off a bit of time and make it to Snatch City. In the meantime, I think I’ll grab a drink and rub one out.
Captain’s Log – Soju Date: 6 bottles, 3 shots
I gotta stop drinking on the bridge. I got a bit sick and vomited all over the instruments. I told the second mate to clean it up. I tossed him a pack of wet tissues to do it with.
I told that whore to take a hard turn and cut off a whale who was trying to merge into my lane. Fuck you whale, I win! Something was bumping and sliding after that, but I checked the fridge and all the booze was fine so no problem.
I’m going to head down for a drink.
Captain’s Log – Soju Date: 9 bottles, 4 shots
Something is wrong. When I place my shot glass on the table, it just slides off.
The second mate is telling me that the boat is listing, whatever the fuck that means. I took care of it though, because I’m the motherfucking captain! I got the kids all safely off the decks of the ship and in their quarters below. Little shits gotta listen to me, I’m older!! Now to wait for the boat to self correct.
Captain’s Log – Soju Date: 11 bottles, 3 shots
I think I’m going to get off the boat. I’m a bit fuzzy from the drinking, but I think that’s what I need to do.
The idiot second mate is saying something about life rafts and evac-u-something, but fuck him. He must be 10 years my junior. I told him to get fetch me my clean shirt. Joke’s on him. I don’t own a clean shirt. That should keep the fucker busy.
I can see my ride is here. You ever get that feeling like you’re forgetting something when you leave a place? Hmm. Can’t think of anything too important. Got my wallet, got my handphone, got my hip flask. I think I’m good.
Damn boat. Must be the Japanese again.
Captain’s Log – Soju Date: 12 bottles, 10 shots
Oh shit that boat is going to sink. I need to get my story straight or they’re not going to let me be captain for a few weeks. Maybe it was that damn whale?
The guy on the boat is telling me that the coast guard is turning away help from the American navy. Good. Those fucking big-noses with their arrogant “Oh let’s keep you from dying and collapsing into anarchy” bullshit. Don’t need ‘em. It looks like there’s a bunch of fisherman out here, even a helicopter or two.
It still feels like I forgot something on the boat…
Captain’s Log – Soju Date: 16 bottles, 5 shots
Got back to land. Had to sort my priorities.
I got some slender Esse smokes, so priority one was taken care of
I couldn’t decide if I should go for a drink and some boiled pig intestines first or dry out my cash before seeing what kind of Anma parlor this town has. I opted for the former and found a classy place with wood-colored floor stickers, no chairs and a dusty fan.
Saw the boat on the TV there. Realized what I had forgotten. The news is carrying on and on about it – the kids. Oh well. Meh. I’m safe.
Captain’s Log – Soju Date: 25 bottles, 1 shot
Fucking media found me, and not the good kind that make me look like a lovable idiot for some “comedy” show about awesome ship’s captains.
No worries though, I bowed my head a bit and said some “So sorrys”. That should take care of that. Some were giving me shit about drying out my cash. Come on, have you ever tried to pay a semi-retarded ajumma to suck you off with a soggy man won? Besides, looks like I can pin this on the 3rd mate whore. She won’t say anything since I’m a fucking ajosshi bawse, plus I have pictures of her stripping for me in my quarters.
Everyone is getting all red in the face about this. Why can’t they understand my situation? I guess I just need to let them scream and stamp like the People of the Han do when this kind of thing happens. Everyone will be outraged for a week or so, then Psy will release a new single or some American soldier will blow his nose the wrong way and I’ll be out of the limelight. Those parents should thank me anyway – university is expensive.