User:Cajek/UnBooks:California Wildlife Code 782

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Whale Coming Out of water

That's not a whale, thank you very much.

Call me Ishmael. Well, call me Ishmael if you want. I prefer Ishy. Some years ago — never mind how long precisely — having little money to pay my rent, I thought I would join a man named Ahab and his quest for vengeance against a dumb animal.

Ever since captain Ahab (or the Cap'n as we call him) discovered the obscure law in the California Wildlife and Fishing Codes, that it is legal to hunt whales by car, his determination has been frightening. Without any delay, he has rallied the men to his call.

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Ahab has spent all day tuning up his 1995 Honda Accord in preparation for the hunt. There is no choice for me. I must participate, or Ahab, my landlord, will kick me out of the apartment. Ahab had a fire in his eyes that I had seen only once before, in 1987... but that is a different, more interesting story.

Why, I wondered, was Ahab so driven to hunt whales? When I finally asked him, he was busy underneath his Accord, fiddling with a rubick's cube.

"I'm not just interested in any old whale," Ahab said, his voice scratchy and rasped and hoarse, "I'm interested in catching a particular one." Ahab showed me his hand, and for the first time since I met him in 1987 I noticed he had none. There was a hook, glistening and gleaming and glowing. "That damn whale ate my whole fuckin' family!"

I was surprised by this, to say the least. I let Ahab go back to his meddlings and fidgetings and workings without saying anything more. Well, I did say "Oh weak sauce!" but that's about it.

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Horatiobrando

That's not Ahab, but it's close enough.

Ahab's preparations were many. The car had to go over a fine tuning before it was sea-worthy. Luckily we didn't need it to be sea-worthy. It only had to be able to drive on roads.

Ahab had plans for us, his crew. Queequeg, a disillusioned Native American who had his name legally changed, would be in charge of shooting wildly into the ocean during our long voyages. Ishmael (THAT'S ME!!!) would be the biographer, the journalist, the writer-guy. I was to document Ahab's voyage. Oh, and haul the whale back to the car once dead.

As whaling season approached in Los Angeles, Ahab became more irritable. He shouted at the men more often than usual, and his dictation became in all caps. After editing though, his yelling and shouting only comprised a paragraph in part 2, so it didn't do much damage to our morale.

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Vandalisedcar3

The HMS Essex (not shown)

Queequeg, a giant, crazy biker guy, was eerily silent as the days wore on. As I studied his movements, I wondered what strange connection he could have to Ahab. Why would Ahab trust the mission to such a big, nasty lookin' dude?

Apparently, they had both been in Vietnam together, or so I was mumbled to by Queequeg himself. I thought that this made sense, especially considering how crazy Ahab was. ...and why he forced us to call him Captain.

I was beginning to worry about the mission. Could Ahab even drive? We would have to be on the highway for hours and hours, perhaps even days, before we saw a whale – nevermind Ahab's elusive enemy. He has a hook for a hand and a patch over one eye, greatly lowering our chances of surviving this dangerous mission. Worse yet, he switched the patch every other hour to his bad eye just to rub it in our faces. I immediately called my insurance company. Things looked grim.

If only I had some way out of my living situation, so that I wouldn't have to join Ahab in his mad quest, but it looked like I was going to be fired from my job at the fish market anyway, so I decided: what the hell.

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Ahab had called all of his crew together (that's, uh, ME... and uh, QUEEQUEG.) for a special house meeting. He had the eloquence of a drunk longshoreman, and the mannerisms and dress of a second week of a garbage strike.

"LISTEN UP, ME HEARTIES!" he yelled.

"Jesus Christ!" I shouted, as I jumped out of bed, drool still on my face.

"Today is the day: the day of the first day of the rest of your days." Ahab looked like a seagull about to vomit. He leaned in closer and whispered, "the first day of the rest of your days."

I was definitely, definitely awake by this point, and decided that there was no getting out of this: I would have to follow him. No matter how stinky he was.

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