Tanker Ray Takes Down The Cook

So the Captain is a’ sitin the last booth across from this young lad wearin a Mohawk hairdo. The lad is interviewing for a cook’s job. Tanker Ray, barcat extraordinaire and mouse ace nonparallel is sitting on the ledge over the booth, just listening, while cleaning the claws on his oversized right front paw the way even mortal felines do.

“ Naw, I don’t like cats much” the youth says, ” No reason really, just don’t like ‘em much”, looking straight at the Tank.

Normally, that would have been the end of the interview but the galley was really shorthanded following the little fracas of Saturday Night…. But that’s another story altogether. Anyways, Tanks right ear vibrated too and fro a number of times and he cast a sideways glance at the new cook.

Ehab smiled at the new cook as he welcomed him aboard.

Next day about 10:00AM the new cook is getting the lay of the land and is walking around the closed bar.

Ehab is attending to something on the back bars stored in the corner and the Tank, Lord knows how he got up there, is patrolling the top of the bar soffett some 10 feet above the bar room floor. Well, it’s plain to see, the way Ehab tells it, that ‘Ol Tank was slinking around the bar soffett directly above the new cook. Darned if he wasn’t stalking him!
Ehab put down the bottle he was examining, leaned on his elbow and silently watched.
It wasn’t too much longer when the cook, and then the Tank, stopped. Tank’s striped tail began to vibrate and his back quivered His ears laid flat against his head and he coiled like a steel spring.

Ehab, wanting to yell, remained silent as the Tank uncoiled and became airborne.

All Ehab said he could think about was Rocket J. Squirrel, a distant, timeworn memory from his badly misspent youth.

Well the Tank landed on the cooks head from behind with a spread of 4 paws worth of claws and those really pointy front teeth, which latched on to the bridge of the poor man’s nose from above.

The cat yowl Tank let out sounded a lot like BANZAI to Ehab. Certainly, it meant the same thing.

“AAHHRRHHRRAAAA!!!” screamed the cook as he began to rotate faster than the big bronze propeller on the old Newark making turns for full ahead, with a double jingle of the telegraph to boot! AHHH, AHHH, NO, AHHH!!!! he screamed hysterically, knocking over bar stools, as the Tank hung on like a bull rider trying to get in all 8 seconds before the clowns come out, eyes wide and grinning like a sea banshee, we hear the Tank was.. Old man swears the Tank was beating the back of the cook’s neck with his tail in an effort to get him to spin faster.
After Tank dismounted and scurried off to one of his rabbit warren of tunnels the cook sagged against a booth as he assessed the damage and counted the punctures.

As the cook, and then the Tank hisself, heard from Ehab that day, “ Well, at least now he got a reason not to like cats”.

Sunday’s at 11:30 on the patio all you scallywags and seahags is the champagne brunch.
Make your own mimosas and Bloody Marys, drink a lot, eat from the buffet, Have Chef Fred turn out something delectable from the galley. try something from the raw bar and listen to Live Jazz and Island music in the fresh air. Chill there bucko’s and try the least stuffy, most fun brunch in town and if you likes, play a game of champagne pong. It’s all one price . Can’t do that at any of those damn fru fru brunches now can you mates?


AARRGGHH!The Captains faithful scribe