Breakfast of Champions

I dressed up in my private clothes and reported to the cook in the kitchen. He was a big, overweight foreign abomination who smoked a large, fat brown cigar. His frame was imposing, with broad chest and shoulders. His face was round and full, complemented by a thick beard that added to his rugged appearance.

Big Cook said, “I fuck your mother.” He laughed and said, “Mother's pussy, here, put this on the table.”

I was speechless at his language. He showed me a small table and gave me 1 liter of milk, 1 liter of orange juice, and 22 small shot glass cups used for alcohol. I was confused as to what I was supposed to do with this.

Big Cook said, “Fill this, cunt motherfucker.”

I said, “What!? These cups!? Where are the normal glasses? And one liter is not enough for all of us.”

Big Cook pushed me away and filled all these small glasses with juice and milk. I was surprised that he filled all the cups without a drop left in the bottle.

Big Cook said, “Look, easy. You suck my dick.”

I had never heard such barbaric language in such a short time. From what tree did this guy fall on his head? I opened the fridge, and it was empty. The only thing in the middle was old butter on a plate with some small mold on it. Big Cook pushed me and placed the butter on the table, then he pulled me into the kitchen and showed me 1 pack of eggs, a few transparent bacons, and bread that felt more like wood.

Big Cook said, “You cook, motherfucker. Go wait, cocksucker.”

On the other door opposite the crew's messroom, a bald sleazy aged man arrived. He reminded me of Gollum from the movie “Lord of the Rings.” He said, “You must be the new deckhand. I’m the waiter for the officers' messroom. After breakfast, don’t run away; you have to clean all the decks and stairs below the officers. I clean all the above. Now get to work.”

I waited in the messroom for the crew to arrive. I overlooked the Big Cook as he gave food to the sleazy waiter. For the officers, it was a big steel plate with various salami and cheese, fresh bread, cooked eggs, and normal-sized glasses. The crew started to gather around in my messroom. The older crew brought breakfast with them, small cans of pate or spam. Bosun Lemmy sat across from the neanderthal AB.

Bosun Lemmy said, “What is this!? Why is everyone bringing their own food?”

Neanderthal AB laughed and said, “You’re about to find out, brother. There's nothing for breakfast except one raw egg. The cook fries it sunny-side up, but somehow the bottom has a thin baked layer while the rest remains runny. It’s like raw spit.”

Somebody from the crew said, “Breakfast of champions!”

I said, “The cook said I will prepare your breakfast.”

The old crew laughed, and the neanderthal AB said to me, “Like you know how to cook, brother.”

I said, “Well of course. Bosun, you want eggs with bacon?”

Bosun Lemmy smiled and said, “Yes. If possible, two eggs and some bacon.”

I walked back into the kitchen, added more sunflower oil, and heated it up. I took 2 eggs, and the Big Cook took 1 egg back.

Big Cook said, “One egg per person, jerkoff.”

I reached for bacon, and the Big Cook slapped me on the wrist.

Big cook said, “One bacon or one egg, no more, dickhead.”

I cracked the egg and poured it into the hot oil, covering it with a pinch of salt. I picked up a big spoon and poured hot oil from the pan over the egg until it was done. The yolk slowly turned white while the inside remained soft. The entire time, the Big Cook smoked his big cigar and watched me from a distance. He leaned on a counter.

I placed the fried egg on the plate and brought it to Bosun Lemmy. He looked at it and said, “Only one egg!?”

I said, “It’s just one egg or one bacon, and the bacon is almost transparent.”

Bosun Lemmy cracked the wooden bread and penetrated the egg. The yolk poured all over. He took a bite and said, “Good job, deckhand. This is delicious.”

Almost everyone gathered from the old crew to watch Bosun Lemmy eat.

Neanderthal AB said, “Wait, you made this, brother!? Can you make me one?”

I heard a lot of voices that said, “Make me one.”

“Me as well.”

“Me too.”

I went into the kitchen and fried sunny-side up eggs for everyone. They were all so happy and cheered my name. When I brought them the eggs, I thought to myself, ‘Never knew that one egg could cheer a person.’

Bosun Lemmy asked me, “What are the officers eating?”

I said, “I saw a big plate with various salami and normal-sized glasses.”

Neanderthal AB said, “They are not better off, brother. This is mostly for the Captain. The others get a little bit more scrap than us, maybe one egg and bacon. The big glasses are for tea. Soon you will have to make it for us too, deckhand. There is a 65-liter cooking pot back there.”

A Huge Motorman with brown eyes was seated near Bosun Lemmy. He looked like a wrestler with his powerful, rugged physique. His head was clean-shaven, reflecting his tough, no-nonsense attitude. His face was chiseled, with a strong jawline and a prominent brow. His body was muscular and robust, showcasing years of rigorous training and hard work. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest emphasized his strength, while his arms were thick and sinewy, clearly capable of impressive feats of power. His veins were visible, hinting at his raw physicality. He said, “You didn’t hear why the last Chief Officer was replaced?”

Bosun Lemmy said, “No.”

Huge Motorman said, “He asked the cook for a can of tuna, and he got one all right, but it was opened and had mold growing inside. It looked more like a mold cake. The Chief Officer was furious. He went into the kitchen and demanded a new can, but the cook attacked him with a soup ladle and chased him out. The Chief stormed back in and threw the cook headfirst into the trash, with only his legs sticking out and flapping around. Then the cook called the company, and you know the rest—bye-bye, Chief Mate.”

Bosun Lemmy asked, “How long are we stuck with this cook?”

Huge Motorman replied, “He has been here like 12 months, so definitely another 12 months.”

Bosun Lemmy said, “Are all the cooks here this bad?”

Neanderthal AB chuckled and said, “No, brother. The one before was stoned all the time, smoking weed until one day he baked a cake with weed and gave it to everyone. Luckily, the Captain and some of the engineers didn’t eat the cake. As for the rest, they were scattered all over like drunks, stumbling around, smiling, and playing with fire hoses against each other.”

Huge Motorman said, “Even the Chief Officer was affected. The Captain was looking for him to figure out what was going on, and he found him with the waiter rolling on the floor of the laundry room. The Captain got distraught and ran down into the engine room. There, he saw the Chief Engineer looking at the gauges like a small baby and giggling. The cleaner was washing gratings with a mop, while the mechanic was laughing his ass off, constantly trying to pick up a wrench that kept falling from his hands.”

The old crew chuckled, and Neanderthal AB said, “Then the Captain started rampaging around the ship until he ran into the cook, who told him, ‘Eat some cake, and he will be happy too.’ Luckily, we were on the ocean, so there was no ship near us. The next day, the Captain reported this to the company, but since he was one of them, they ignored the complaint.”

Bosun Lemmy asked, “What do you mean, one of them?”

Neanderthal AB replied, “He was the same nationality, brother.”

Bosun Lemmy said, “Just dandy. We are stuck with this cook. I see he is one of theirs too.”

Neanderthal AB said, “Before there was also their Chief Officer, who would sleep during the watch, and the ship would be unmanned overnight. The Captain took a picture of him and forwarded it to the company. You can guess what they replied, brother. That it is not okay to take pictures of one of their citizens and demean their reputation. Their Chief Officer continued to sleep during watches.”

Bosun Lemmy lowered his head and said, “You were lucky not to encounter another ship with no active crew on the bridge. I’ve heard of it happening a few times, and sometimes it didn’t end well.”

After they all finished breakfast and went to work, I cleaned the tables. When I opened the dishwashing machine, I found some CDs inside.

A voice from behind me said, “It’s mine.”

I looked behind me and saw 2nd Officer. He was a tall, unshaven figure with glasses. He resembled Jeff Goldblum, but with overgrown, hippy hair. I asked, “You washed CDs in the dishwasher?”

2nd Officer Jeff stacked the CDs in his hand and said, “This is the best way to clean your CD or DVD. I do it all the time.”

I just looked at him with a thought, ‘He’s got bad brain data.’

The Sleazy waiter came in and took me to his small janitor room. He gave me a mop, a bucket with water and detergent. He walked me over the decks and showed me what I’m supposed to clean. On the way, I saw Bosun Lemmy with a few deck workers that carried black thick cooking pots with various burnt residues.

Bosun Lemmy said to me, “You see this. They look like they are from WW2. Now we must brush it with a grinder, even the stove!”

Bosun Lemmy shook his head and walked away.

Sleazy waiter giggled and I said to him, “I heard you were five years on the ship.”

Sleazy waiter smiled and said, “Yes. Five years, even the owner came to shake my hand.”

I said, “How come five years?”

Sleazy waiter said, “I would have stayed forever. The route was awesome. The ship would stay in port for two weeks back then. So many girls, you know, any age. In a lot of ports, I made them pregnant to have my bloodline spread all over the planet.”

I said, “What do you mean girls of any age?”

Sleazy waiter giggled and said, “The last one I had was twelve years old. In some countries, you can even buy young girls and boys. Sadly, no one gave me permission to take one on board the ship with me; the company didn’t allow passengers.”

I was stunned and couldn’t fathom if this was reality and I just heard this or if I was in some dream. I wasn’t sure what just happened because this cannot be true. I smiled and said, “Good one, you got me.”

Sleazy waiter got all serious and said, “It’s true. You can ask anyone on board; they all know that I like younger girls.”

I got all steamed up and said, “You mean kids.”

Sleazy waiter leaned his head and said, “Depends on what culture you’re in, some get married even younger than twelve years. Our country is just too conservative, they should be more liberal like these other countries.”

I said, “Well, I like conservative sometimes, don’t tell me you have young girls in our country that’s impossible.”

Sleazy waiter said, “No. Back home I’m saving up for a coupe. Those teens love it, they will stick to my car like flies on honey and they will do anything because they’ll think I’m rich.”

I said, “You ever considered something mature?”

Sleazy waiter said, “No. The young skin is so tender and soft and agile.” His eyes sparkled.

I never knew so much hate existed in me, my arms started to tremble and all I could see before my eyes were various kids with this old pedophile. I just walked away before I lost control over my mind and body.

I sat outside the messroom to clear my head and watched Bosun and the deck workers brushing cooking pots. The Huge Motorman walked past me with a green apple in his right hand. He stopped and placed it on the bottom of the window in a cage, like a birdcage.

I asked, “What are you doing?”

Huge Motorman replied, “I’m just wondering how long this artificial apple will last. We can watch it from the inside of the messroom and see if anything will happen over time.”

I said, “You believe it’s not natural?”

Huge Motorman said, “No, it has no taste. My shoe has more flavor, and the apple's skin is like plastic. Even the juice. Did you try to drink it this morning?”

I said, “No.”

Huge Motorman said, “You didn’t miss much; it tastes like the sweat from my socks.”

I smiled.

Bosun Lemmy approached me with a huge cooking pot, probably 65 liters or more, and said, “Here Jack, wash this and make us tea; they said this is their main drink.” I stood up and took the big cooking pot.

Huge Motorman looked at Bosun Lemmy and said, “A long time ago, this company was great. We had various soft drinks for free, stacks of cans for lunch or dinner. Then one day, some smart Captain wrote to the company, suggesting that they shouldn’t provide free soft drinks and other items, and that it should be sold to the crew instead, like other companies do with a slop chest. The company immediately embraced this idea and took it to a whole new level. So here we are, drinking tea and buying our own food.”

Bosun Lemmy said, “I heard that the cook even gets bonuses for saving food; other cooks get around 500 USD, but this one gets 1500 USD. No wonder there's nothing to eat. I can’t wait to see what’s for lunch.”

Huge Motorman said, “The soup is the best. He has this gigantic pot that covers almost the entire stove. On Mondays, he starts cooking the soup by filling it with water and lowering a bone that hangs from the ceiling. He adds a fistful of pasta and a pinch of some spice. If you get lucky, you might find a piece of pasta floating in your soup. If you don’t eat the soup, it goes back into the same pot. On Tuesday, he raises the bone and throws in some red spice so the soup looks a little reddish. On Wednesday, it’s some brownish spice. Thursday, he adds a yellow cube to make it look like cream soup.”

Bosun Lemmy, all shocked, said, “You can’t be serious.”

Huge motorman said, “Wait, I’m not finished. Where was I? Oh, yes, then Friday he adds a green cube, Saturday it’s a brown cube, and finally Sunday the soup is thrown overboard and the pot is washed to be ready for Monday. And he cooks this weekly on a schedule like clockwork.”

Bosun Lemmy pulled his beard and said, “You guys really eat that?”

Huge motorman said, “A person might wonder about all the things he would eat, but when hunger takes root in his body, he will find out.”

Bosun Lemmy looked concerned with deep thoughts. He just walked away from us to supervise deck workers who were brushing cooking pots.

Huge motorman said, “After you wash this pot, come and see me in the engine room so I can show you where the desalination[1] tank is. Don’t forget to bring empty bottles.”

I said, “Ok.”

Huge motorman entered a hallway behind me and said, “Deckhand, this door leads to the engine room; you can’t miss it. It's written 'engine room' on the door.”

I turned and nodded at him, and he nodded back before walking down to the engine room.

[1] Desalination - process that takes away salt and minerals from saline water.