I. Lucian saunters the poop deck. The smoldering cigar brushes against a planted matchbook. When it lights, dumb-ass gets his. Too drunk, or too stupid, Lucian evades his murder.

II. Certainties of an aircraft carrier are: The captain. His officer. A crew. A plot. Aeroplanes. A friendly, though failed, fire sorté. Explosives and grenades. A garroting hole where the torpedo dropped, nearly missing Lucian. The creeps...

III. I dun' care for him either-- you can't sink your own ship. Let the navy...

The bombing grid was correct Sir!

IV. Lucian swaggers into the mess hall. He shuts out the lights. He attempts the bomb a dinner roll, but the dud won't eat it.Do my killers enjoy fly fishing-- if only..., he feigns.

V. Dumas Sir-- pronounced Lucian Dumas!

VI. Lucian returns to his bunk-- portside. He removes his boots. While scratching his left foot he discovers ink beneath his nails-- ink on his sock. Laundry sent him a note. He removes his sock. It reads: Not that we don't like you Flunky-- we dislike you. Lucian smiles.

VII. Lucian's terraces are evergreen. His head plumes with a fuzziness and huckleberry. A hay cart mows past. His has been, as well as perpetuating, endlessly upon that striking moment of just that-- an end. Too drunk, or too stupid, unaware that the inevitable, dumb ol' sea...

Cur moriatur homo, ciu salvia crescit in horto *