The Mescal Papers, Part 2

Strange Times in Virginia Beach:

My memories of Virginia Beach Blvd., after being dosed off at a party where a civilian was explaining to me how to read hieroglyphics out loud with a mouth full of rum, which is actually e-z if you change the shape of your face funnel, which of course changes the entire sound. The whole room was doing it! I had to split after their black cat sat in the tub and howled the whole time I was taking a crap. I kept trying to get it to change his face funnel, but no go!

Later on, I was laying face down in the middle of Virginia Beach Blvd.  trying to stare down the yellow line. I had just been chased out of The Edgar Cayce Institute Library trying to find the Tibetan Book of the Dead and ended up in a closet on the second floor... I was in the process of subduing the yellow line when an officer of the law, realizing I was a GI, hauled me in. The Navy pronounced me unfit for military duty and proceeded to give me a medical discharge under honorable conditions.

This was mitigated by the fact that they raided my rack on the ultra top secret vessel the USS Palm Beach- AGER3 (Sister to the USS Pueblo AGER2) and found all my so Kafka sketchbooks, not to mention a few other surrealist psycho discoveries, my Yusef Lateef Psychimotos album for one, and, of course my unwashed hookah. The vessel was so top secret, it did not exist; so therefore, I did not exist.

In exchange for my drawings, etc. I was given a good discharge and tossed out with the stipulation that the existence of the AGER3 would never be revealed.

Now that the Korean King is Dead and his dooofus son is in charge, the story of the capture and torture of the AGER2 crew by the North Koreans  and her perfectly nolonger trumps the undisclosed sister ship AGER3 who went to The Med to replace the other spy ship USS Liberty (shot up by the Israelis after discovering their plans to  invade Lebanon ( spies, right?) I, of course, got dumped off in Norfolk after a botched attempt to jump the fence in Gitmo to join my main Man, Fidel.

So, with the clock ticking away on my Navy career, the yellow line won, the black cat drowned when I turned the water on, and I finally explained to my USAF B-24 Liberator Bombadier Dad,  how I got out of the Navy 2 years earlier than I was supposed to.

Verdad!