Date: Sun, 2 Jun 2013 16:57:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: Boris Chen <borischen@rocketmail.com>
Subject: A Dish Served Cold, chap 6

Chapter 6

It was supposed to be our last full day at sea. The rain caught up with us
this morning after nearly a month of avoiding it in both legs of our ocean
adventure.

My watch was over, Scott was in his own bunk finally. Steve was at the
helm. Mom was working on our last meals at sea. I was really tired of ham
and powdered eggs! We were starting to see an occasional bird, some
pelicans. Those were sure signs that the end was near.

I was laying on my bunk reading my book because of the rain, when I heard
yelling from the back of the boat. So I jumped to the floor, threw open the
door and ran out the main cabin door just in time to see Steve fighting
with his eight foot long deep-sea fishing pole. He seemed to be struggling
with the weight of something with little to hold on to, so I went as fast
as I could, right behind him put my hands around his waist and pulled him
backwards towards the wheel really hard.

He turned his head and shouted, "THANKS, get me something from the cabin
for the end of the pole!" I kept pulling. Them Mom came from the main cabin
wondering what all the commotion was, I shouted to her to get some
rope. She ran to the main cabin and pulled out a large nylon rope and raced
it back to the stern (back end). I told her to tie it off on the base of
the side deck cleats we use to tie the boat to the piers.

Then she fed me the end. I wrapped it around Steve once, then over to a
left side cleat so he could lean into it as hard as he wanted. It worked
and he was able to better fight the fish. Within one minute he yelled at
mom to get the carving knives and some buckets of water ready because we
were having Blue Tuna steaks tonight, then he said to stuff another bottle
of wine in the fridge, then he yelled, "No, make that three bottles!" Mom
smiled and followed his orders. I grabbed the fish hook pole from the
ceiling of their cabin.

It took another ten minutes because Steve lost lots of line off the back
until he had the support to reel it in. The fish was getting tired. I think
Steve was getting sore in the arms and lower back too. Then it broke the
surface, the thing was huge, maybe four feet long!

We managed to pull it into the pilots well and went right to work with
knives parting it out. This was the biggest fish I had ever seen before. We
probably had over fifteen pounds of meat after cleaning it. Mom wrapped
lots of it in wax paper and stuffed them in our empty refrigerator.

The back end of the boat was full of blood and fish parts. Scott sat on the
roof of the rear cabin watching, taking photos of me and Steve with our
legs covered in blood. We rinsed the deck several times flushing the blood
over the side. Mom saw some large sharks following us during the
process. I'm sure the stuff we tossed overboard didn't sink very far before
it fed someone down below.

I asked Steve if we could email one of the photos, he said he could but it
would have to get cropped and reduced way down in size to almost un-usable,
so we settled for an exciting text description instead.

We were like one big happy family the rest of the day.

That night we had literally fresh Blue Tuna steaks, canned veggies, and the
last of the butter too.

We had this small charcoal grill which mounted to the side of the boat, it
actually hung out over the water, so if something went wrong the coals
would fall into the sea instead of the deck. Heaven forbid. Steve lit it
using a disposable tank propane torch. The wind flow across the side made
for one hot bed of coals. We feasted, laughed, drank wine, and had a great
time eating. This time, instead of eating inside, we ate in the cramped
confines of the pilots well.

Steve wanted to eat outside because this close to the mainland we needed to
keep a close eye out for other boats.

There's a drain hole in the well and we have this small pedestal table that
sits on a pole that fits in the drain. It's tiny but enough room to keep
some food and drinks, but we mostly ate off trays with plates on our
laps. We told dumb jokes during dinner as the wine flowed. Mom didn't seem
to be counting glasses on us this time, our last night at sea, I think.

Just after dinner we passed a west bound sloop about the same size as ours
with what looked like six people on board, we waved. Steve blasted the gas
horn twice. Now there were even more birds.

Scott helped mom clean up after dinner. He was slurring his words, mom was
staggering a little blaming it on the seas. It rained on us that morning
but in all the excitement during the fish ordeal the rain had stopped and
the evening turned out to be really nice. We watched the sun set behind us
between the clouds and the sea. Mom and Steve watched holding hands from
the pit. Scott and I watched sitting on the rear cabin roof. He snuck in a
tiny quick kiss to the side of my face, which I ignored.

Steve said this close to shipping and land he wanted the last watches, so
Scott and I went below. By now we could start to receive some radio
stations from L.A., I could practically feel the sheets and pillow on my
own bed. I was too distracted with thoughts of home to read any more.

Within the hour we both had our lights off and the cabin was nearly pitch
black. I laid on my back listening to the waters splashing on the hull as
the Clarence cut it's way through the waters still heading for our home
port in Marina Del Rey.

I must have fallen asleep.

Next thing I knew, I felt someone in my bunk. It smelled like a sweaty
Scott. He had a distinct armpit odor I knew really well I could smell sun
tan lotion too. It felt like he was nude on top of me. I was in my swimsuit
on my back, with my book next to my head on the pillow.

He pulled down my suit put his hands under my legs and lifted my knees to
my shoulders, slid his boner up and down in my crack, found the spot and
rammed his boner inside me. Scott isn't the most gifted guy, maybe 4.5
inches, which ain't too bad for a high school freshman, still got time to
grow. But neither of us is particularly huge either, I'm a tiny bit under
6" hard.

He started pounding me with a rapid pace, I thought to myself he should
slow down and savor the moment, but he seemed to be all about the orgasm at
this moment.

In the final seconds he pulled out to cum on my stomach. One shot made it
to my neck, the rest on my chest and stomach. It was neat feeling him all
sweaty and focused on the moment. Too bad the room was nearly pitch dark.

When he was done he got up, grabbed some toilet paper to clean off his
mess, then we laid on my bunk and sucked face, then eventually fell asleep,
both naked.

In the morning Mom woke us early as the sun came up over the horizon. She
never said a word as she entered finding us both in my bunk nude and
stinky.

M: "I want to show your boys something," she backed away wiggling her
finger gesturing us to follow, we walked across the main cabin after
slipping on our suits, out the main cabin door following mom, she turned to
point towards the front of the boat.

In the distance we could see the shore of California! San Nicolas Island
was already behind us.

We both screamed tossing our arms skyward, then hugged each other. We made
it back to the pilots pit and hugged Steve who seemed about as happy as a
person could be.

I took the binoculars and saw we were heading straight for Marina Del
Rey. That GPS was dead on accurate, so was Steve, the compass at the pilots
wheel still pointed right at 64.8 degrees! Dead on course. In about ten
minutes we dropped and stowed the front sail. It takes about twenty minutes
to properly lower and store a sail. Mom and I did the main sail while Scott
went below to change into proper Marina Del Rey attire. Steve started the
gas motor for the final few miles.

Those final five thousand feet to our pier spot seemed to take forever. We
were more than ready. Steve reminded us not to run since we've been at sea
for almost a month, walking on dry land might be hard for the rest of the
day, we might even get nauseated. I didn't care I just wanted to stand on
concrete or something solid!

As we entered the harbor I had my cell in hand, battery charged, five
bars. I quickly texted my closest friends to let them know we were home!

Finally it arrived. Mom jumped to the pier, we tossed her the ropes and
shut down the boat, plugged it into shore power and everything inside the
cabin came to life. We even had air conditioning now!

Scott went to the marina to use the toilet. At first he staggered like a
drunken sailor, we all laughed as he nearly fell on a perfectly smooth
sidewalk!

I was next two minutes later.

My first stop was to the store for the 10lb bag of ice mom wanted for the
ice chest to bring the tuna steaks home

I walked across the parking lot heading for the marina building where there
were two outdoor access bathrooms with showers and everything. I could hear
some yelling but I didn't recognize the voice but something sounded
wrong. I half expected to see two drunks fighting or something.

Then I heard those words. The yelling contained the words FAG-BOY over and
over. I walked around the side of the building to see Scott pressed against
the wall by some other kid I sort of recognized from school, he was
punching Scott in the face over and over, Scott looked bloody and about
ready to pass out.

  I ran around behind the kid and smashed the back of his head with the bag
of ice, which exploded throwing ice cubes in every direction, the kid
collapsed, then Scott sank along the wall, his entire white polo shirt and
red OP swimsuit soaked in blood.

Just then who must have been the father of the boy came running up shoving
me hard to the ground and started kicking my back and legs as hard as he
could over and over. I rolled into a ball but saw Steve round the corner of
the building ran up to the kid's father shoving him hard into the building
about next to Scott, the father lunged at Steve but slipped on the ice
cubes and landed face first on the hot concrete. I heard his nose crack
when he hit the deck, er, sidewalk.

In the distance I could hear the sirens. Mom approached screaming after
seeing the entire family on the ground bloody.

The cops arrested the other kid and his father, charged with felony
aggravated assault.

Little did they know the real punishment was yet to come. In my mind I
pictured the back of our sail boat. They were soon to feel the wrath of the
great great grandson of Clarence Darrow. The criminal charges were to
become the least of their worries, but as they got stuffed into the back of
the ambulance I knew it wouldn't be long before the real revenge would be
served. They had no clue who Steve was and how much he hated bigots and
homophobes.

Twenty days later the father and son were served with court summonses. The
accusation were civil; damages, violation of our civil rights, and on it
went. Steve was seeking about $4,900,000 in damages, costs and fines, and
their house and business too.

Scott recovered with seven stitches in his eyebrow line and a fractured
bone over his left eye. Carl Hardin who was the father of the kid who beat
up Scott tried to sue for damages from the fall on our ice cubes that broke
his nose and gave him a concussion, but no court would take the case. He
even tried to sue from a court in southern LA county but had no judge would
take the case.

Another one bites the dust!

-+-

Scott and I spent the rest of the summer doing our normal stuff. I got a
job at the marina. Mom bought me a car, a used VW Jetta with 150,000 miles
but a kick ass stereo. Scott was taking Drivers Ed in the fall. Steve never
talked about the legal proceedings against the Hardin family.

One day in the Marina I ran into old man Hardin again, I don't think he
recognized me. As a marina employee I had to be respectful and do whatever
he asked. He never spoke really. I noticed his nose was crooked and looked
swollen. I greeted him nicely, "Good afternoon Mister Hardin." He mumbled
something back to me but never stopped.

For some reason as he was walking out to his car from the bar I was
stricken by funny thoughts and started to laugh uncontrollably. I mean
we're talking about a big belly laugh. He stopped by the drivers door of
his Volvo looking back at me as if trying to figure out what was so funny.

I was looking at him from maybe 50 feet away laughing so hard my sides were
starting to ache and my eyes to water up. He glanced at me, I'm sure
assuming I was some kid on dope or something. Truth was, he was months away
from losing about everything he owned!

I got the last laugh. As he drove away I could hear his power steering pump
whine in need of repair, as he accelerated leaving the members parking lot,
I could hear the turbo fan grinding away under his hood too.

I pointed at his car, I could see the roof from the distance as he left. I
laughed so hard then yelled, "better get those fixed!" I dropped to my
knees on the sidewalk in the parking lot, tears pouring down my cheeks with
uncontrollable laughter.

Eventually I regained control, but for the rest of the day I had the
giggles and would start laughing at almost anything anyone said. All I
could picture was Mr. Hardin spinning an arrow sign along Santa Monica
Boulevard in front of a run down strip mall. The arrow sign said, 'Acme
Pawn. We Buy Used Silver/Gold,' wondering where he went wrong!


The End

Boris Chen


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