The HMS Bill Reimers - Part Twenty-Three

Jake watched the ringing telephone with growing interest. Not only was it making noise, but a little red light was flashing on its panel of buttons as it did. Jake, in keeping with his parrot nature, decided that his best course of action would be to bite the little red light. And so he did. Well, he tried, anyway. He didn’t get hold of the little red light, but he did accidentally press the speakerphone button.

“Hello?” said a voice on the telephone after some awkward moments had passed.

“Norway forty---” was all Jake was able to manage before an empty beer can struck him sharply on the back of the head.

“Never answer the phone you fool” yelled Doug as he grabbed Jake from behind and held his beak shut. “You have no idea who could be calling. It could be cops, or power-hungry hucksters who don’t have the wherewithal to become cops.”

Doug had recently finished reading The Curse of Lono, and had since been doing his best impression of Hunter S. Thompson, or at least, the person Hunter S. Thompson wanted the world to believe he was. He had been doing it for two days, but hadn’t told anyone what he was doing. The few people he had interacted with in that time simply assumed he was suffering a vitamin-E deficiency, or had perhaps been drinking wood glue.

“Doug?” said the voice on the phone. “Is that you?”

“Look at what you’ve done, you gormless bastard,” whispered Doug, as he squeezed Jake’s head tighter.

“Doug?” said the voice again.

“Who wants to know?” Doug yelled at the phone, and then ducked behind Jake as if it might explode.

“It’s Linda at the hotel,” said the voice. “You have a charter.”

Doug considered this for a moment. “Who is it?” he said at last.

“Three guys in their late twenties,” said Linda. “I don’t know their names.”

Doug stepped out from behind Jake and confronted the phone in an authoritative manner. He felt as though he was being toyed with. “Don’t toy with me,” he yelled at the phone. “This situation needs to be brought under control before it flies off and leaves us to drown in our own callowness. Now—where are they from?”

There was a pause as Linda made the inquiry. “Minnesota,” she said finally.

“Minnesota!?” said Doug. “They could be from anywhere!”

“What do you want me to tell them?” asked Linda, growing noticeably irritated.

“Tell them there’s no sense in hunting shark today,” said Doug. “The situation is too tenuous, my mood too foul.”

“They’ve already paid the deposit,” said Linda. “The short one put it on his credit card.”

“Have they been told the deposit is nonrefundable?” asked Doug.

“Yes,” said Linda.

“In that case they deserve what they have coming to them,” said Doug. “Tell them to meet me at the pier at noon.”

“Are you going to show up this time?” asked Linda.

But there was no reply. Doug simply stepped on the speakerphone button and turned to Jake. “Jake, old boy,” he said. “Those poor bastards will soon learn not to enter into contracts without the invaluable legal advice of someone such as yourself.”

“Norway: Forty-Seven, Ireland: Zero,” said Jake.

“Absolutely,” said Doug, as he hopped off the table and into his chair to watch the girls spread their towels on the cool morning sand.