Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,
In my family we never celebrated Christmas or anything for that matter, but I hear you give out goodies so I've taken up the tradition.

I also hear that I have to give presents too, but I'm dirt poor and can't afford anything, so if giving presents is a requirement, then I would like to add "presents from scurvy" to my wish-list (but nothing for that tyrannical captain Fraingck! Except maybe kerosine instead of coal - it's more his style). But enough about others, on to my own wish-list. For Christmas I would like a shark proof rat sub, coconut flavored cheddar, a crab basher like a Maori club, and a rat-sized automatic three-shot gas operated speargun.

-Scurvy Rat-

A New School

I'm sorry I haven't been writing as much as usual, but I've been so busy with S.Q.U.A.A.A.A.A.K.Y. That's short for Scurvy's Quick Undergraduate Academy of Anti-Aeronautic Avians Against Killing Yourself. It's a school I set up for the flightless birds of New Zealand so that they can learn the most critical skill a bird can learn (if in unorthodox ways). My students were a bit skeptical at first, "Why should I take lessons from the same animal that eats my eggs?" the Kiwi asked.

"I already know how to swim, why fly?" said the penguin.

"If I die because I jump off a cliff, there'll only be 146 of my species left," the Kakapoo complained.

"But birds were meant to fly!" I exclaimed.

"Says who," said the penguin.

"Says evolution!" I said. The birds looked at me with a blank stare. "You know...Darwin's finches?" I said.

"Finches are jerks," the kiwi muttered.

I could see I wasn't getting anywhere with these guys, so I brought out my SQUAAAAAKY spokesbird, an albatross I had met on the way down.

"Land sucks," he sighed funereally. This was basically his central thesis. He went on and on about land like it was a dead family member he really didn't like anyway. He was very convincing, and eventually they all caved. Then he somberly flew back to the sea.

We started with bungie jumping so they would get used to the whole in-the-air thing. Now we're at the glider phase (with Kennan's help, I designed gliders like mine for each of them). The kiwi is having the most trouble. I guess some birds weren't meant to fly, but I'm determined that SQUAAAAAKY will succeed. Merry Christmas

-Scurvy-

Marine Biologist

It was a beautiful afternoon on the Tasman sea, a hundred miles southwest of Cape Maria VanDiemen. As I was admiring the flight of a very large albatross, a humongous whale surfaced not far up wind. The stench of it engulfed us as the spray fell on us. The sperm whale has only one blow hole toward the front of it's massive head. The head is about a third of the body. It's eyes are ridiculously small. A blink from Moby, a wave of the tail, and it was gone.

Silence again.

A little later Logan spotted two more doing some synchronized swimming, no matter how big, they are graceful swimmers, the waltz of the sperm lasted only a few minutes at the surface, but undoubtedly it continued a mile deeper.

Silence again.

when another one surfaced Logan talked about how some scientists use a radio controlled helicopters to collect DNA from the spout of a whale. Kennan complained that his helicopter was out of service. Logan, Q-tip in hand, was bummed. The whale lifted it's tail and followed the others down into the grand blue ocean.

A short silence.

This time a whale twice the size of the others, the bull of the pod presumably, surfaced at a ninety  degree angle to us, just off our starboard bow. Captain Fraingck grabbed the q-tip, shoved it in my mouth, and threw me over the bow onto the leviathan. The landing was not graceful but I made it. Logan screamed: "Go get the sample scurvy, go!"

I was right on the spout, q-tip in paw, when the monster took in a great gulp of air. Well you guessed it, the little rat was inhaled by the big monster.

It was dark in there, and the descent into the abyss was vertical, and long - very, very long. I heard the whale clacking; he was echo-locating his squiddy prey.  A loud snapping of the jaw was followed by the start of a slow ascent. Twenty minutes later, the whale surfaced, and I was blown thirty feet in the air. From up there I saw Silver Lining making circles. I landed not too far from a life buoy that was adrift. The inscription on the life ring said Arctic Chieftain, Freemantle. I was safe. the boys found me soon. I had lost the q-tip but I was covered with whale snot.
Logan said: "Where do we send our sample now?"
Captain Fraingck answered:"Go wash your rat!"


Scurvy