Doomsday Was In Our Notebook Tickets To Die At Sea

We set up shop in a rotten hole. Behind the Aruba striptease bar. Most men who visit pole dancers are either sneaky civil servants. Lawyers on a bendy road. Some judges drop in for a pint on the house. Inside my back street bar I had artists paintings on my walls. It wasn’t my idea that the strippers club was next door. It’s just the way it goes in cities. One can’t be picky. The price of renting a old room costs as much as flying to the moon. For a years rent. That is, I mean one has to grab the bull by it’s horns, if one wants to make any pennies or dimes in cities nowadays. On pulling up a few old chairs. I found a few old tables. Stuck them all down to the floor. Judges eyes are all rolling anyway one way or t’other. No one knows what the blinking heck is going on in either port. I looked through a keyhole.

My intention next, be it I’m back from the dead is to make it truly plausible to die at sea without breaking the bank. Be it, a ships tank will bust on route to New York. You see you never knew it was all a big set up by me and my gang of hillbilly girls wearing drawers. We never used the word pants in those good old days. Knickers was also unused. The strippers wore pants while they pushed for time around the back of my shack. I’m hallucinating on one of my previous lives. Right now, I had to scribble down some thoughts. My brain had to chat first with madam blue. She’s the name of one mermaid close by my present city abode. We often talk about you all . You do know we do half laugh ourselves to almost drowning point. Then we figured we won’t pull the trigger on ourselves quite yet. We gotta few grizzly stories to let you in on first. We might get so stinking wet today after revealing what was really going on under The Titanic Ship. You see, you got all these ideas wrong about it’s sinking. We know as we were the team in charge of tickets to die at sea.

‘ Tickets To Die At Sea’ in my previous life number three. I think it was three, hold on a moment I gotta get my death diary out to double check. Indeed it seems to be within my third life. I’m alive just now incase you enquire whether I’m a dead one talking.

Well, you see in my number three life. The world was howling again. All the people were fed up then, just like they are now. I figured a great business idea to ‘Grab A Ticket To Die At Sea’. It worked I sold stacks much better than the stock market now. I mean think on this stock markets work within what’s going on in political storms. Whereas travel agency routes don’t need to blend in those circles. I set up a stand in my art cafe gallery blending within artists paintings of the sea. I wrote ‘ Death Ticket Die At Sea ‘ on sale here just ask at the cashiers desk.

Gordon Bennett, I was sold out in less than a week. Interestingly, the strippers next door never wanted to go quits in their game. Had allot of old men with white wigs. A few politicians. Mostly upmarket professionals infact wanted a quick get out of this Damn life fast. I was rather gibberish on accepting the cash as we never used credit cards back then like we do now. I had so much cafe cash overflow. I had to run to the bank everyday fast without falling over the London beggars. All smiles from them. The old bag ladies were smiling too, though they stunk to high heaven. I often wondered why they didn’t jump in a bath. On enquiring one day I overheard them say ‘ we can’t bathe with all our cash tucked away inside our coat’. Most of the bag ladies wandering around were loaded with cash. That’s the real reason they looked fat. It sure wasn’t belly fat.

Money swinging old time singing. I was ready to pay the bill for The Titanic Crew’. I never had to pay nought more. I knew the ships Captain. We’d had a fling under a swing once on a London naked picnic in the sun party. Back then rules for naked parties were much easier, as a rule. Rules now mean those who like to go bare must choose the naked resorts. Jamaica holds a few. I often sneak away to one to strip down to nothing. The sun, the sea. I don’t say a thing. I know a few female captains in Negril. They all think I’m broke. That’s my cover. A good tip from a pirate I once knew. Don’t reveal where you hide your stollen gold. My golf clubs are still in my pirates shack in Negril. The naked beach bar has my coconut lemonade cocktail waiting on line. So indeed here I go back to the story within ‘ The Titanic Ticket To Death Not Doom ‘. As said I was sell out.

Do you really want to know the rest of this story? Well then my fellow friends send me a tip on here then I might pull my pen out. All instructions to tip me to hoard my deck here should be within my fine publishers rules online.

Until next time Ship Ahoy !

Yvette Louise Melech

Copyright