Flying High in the Spymaker

The day didn't start to well for me; remember I when to sleep in the trash can. well...
Margo found me there at 3:45.

-"haaa the filthy . -you go take a bath, brush your teeth, and go to bed . And no reading till all hours young man!!”

She reminded me my mother so much. I vent to wash up and to bed way down in the fore peak in the yellow bag that says “spy maker,” it must be Kennan’s and what a bag o wrinkles. Morning came and I heard capt'n Fraingck in a French I wouldn't repeat.
Next thing I know the bag opens and I went shooting up in the air fifty plus feet, to the top of the fore mast in my wrinkled up handkerchief. This was no joke - the rats at NASA are treated better. It took me good hour before I worked my pulse back down (and that's because I trained in yoga for years). The worst is that i was left up there all day. I got so sun burnt I look like one of the rats in a skin cancer experiment. At sun set the chute (Fraingck’s term for the spymaker) came down to deck. A pink rat was laying on deck next to a flying fish. they both looked fried but Logan picked up the rat and gave him a full aloe massage. What a guy.

Thanks Logan for saving my life.

Did I mention we caught up with that other boat.

So long - Scurvy Rat-