Driver, T. C. (41 page)

A group of us sat down at my big round corner booth table at the same time that evening and started talking about “The Gathering.” Three days had passed and we were still in sight of Cyprus. Captain Coe was still in meetings on the Island. The total lack of “mainstream” press coverage or even any strong internet chatter about
  
“The Gathering” was an unbelievable mystery to me. Leo Pugh the older professor I had met in Joe’s office stopped by and explained that nothing spreads faster than a secret. Also, this Gathering had a target audience for its message. This audience was not the vast pool of worldwide, brainwashed, government-educated, drone serfs. No, these could be brought in at anytime. Now was still too soon for the masses, the idiot sheep who still watched TV news, wrestling, game shows, soap operas and American Idol. In short, all of the “dead above the neck,” and “give me” Osoma voters. Many of the target audience had been in attendance. The leaders and “wanna be” leaders just below the “Somebody’s” of this world. These leaders (both East and West) are the only ones who really matter anyway. In the Islamic culture the hapless pawns will be ready as will the noble Knights and the rest of the players when the final crusade does come. The leaders of Persia, Damascus, Turkey, all the “Stands” Cutter, the Saudi Royal Family,
 
 
and Egypt, these types were the real target of “The Gathering” and mission accomplished was declared by the West.
    

The last crusade did not start with this Gathering but the push of the South will soon come. The king of the North will ride into the glorious land to protect it. The time of this age or season is drawing to a close. Jesus explained that we will not know the day or the hour but that we can know the season. “These times they are a changing”
 

“I thought Bob Dylan said that” spoke up Duck!

“Yes, Duck, you’re right I just threw that in for old hippies like you and Cornelius to see if you were awake” said Pugh as he cleaned his glasses.

“Real funny Pugh, real funny” I spoke up, while still finishing up my corn bread and pinto beans.

Leo Pugh does an old AM and shortwave radio show that is broadcasted from the ship, working from his home by satellite. He is retired now and comes on ship about a one month a year. Mostly he’s home taking care of his lovely wife Shirley Temple Pugh!

“Pugh, I wonder if I’ve ever bombed any of your listeners while you were still talking to them” (ha-ha)?

“Would be just like you, Cornelius,” Pugh answered.

I thought about my own words about a bomb in one hand and a Bible in the other, the word Christ on my hat, the disciples in the mirror, the ability to deceive in water. I paused then spoke up again!

“Where is the true Church?” I asked Pugh. “Why does God still use the Dope if he’s just going to cause another bloody crusade? Why did he build up the nation of Islam, this strange one of 167
^th
old false God of Ali?”
 

         
“He didn’t fire Judas before the fact did he?” said Leo. “No, Jesus did not give up on Peter, and he still uses you Cornelius. The Gifts of God come before repentance! I hear you are Holiness! That’s not the man I used to know! The gifts of god are not about you they are all about him. Jesus could use anybody.”

“Leo Pugh and the others waited for my response. I hung my head in silence and in shame! Then I prayed to be allowed to work for the Lord for all the days of my life.”

                                     
End of Chapter

The next morning the Great Ark was still in the Mediterranean Sea but now fast under way making at least ten knots to the west. I stood outside my cabin, on a high deck railing, looking out over the sea. There was no sign of all the stuff and “stiffs” we had dumped overboard. The flight deck was still shut down but not for long. Our older model B44s never did come back to the ship, but most of their pilots did. Those planes were sold to some country or some body. I skipped that mornings’ flight briefing (just to piss Friday off). We are still shut down Friday “give it a rest” I was busy breathing in the sights and smells of the sea. Always good for an old sailors soul and spirit!
   

I heard Johnny Cash singing “Ring of Fire” up ahead of us from the sea below. Johnny was getting closer and louder. A crowd had formed on the edge of the flight deck watching something below and cheering. There was a flame, and then Johnny Cash sang again. The Great Ark was slowly catching up to, and passing, the most beautiful sailboat yacht I’d ever seen. One with great lines, yes, as of a woman. The music played once again and was coming in very loud now. The trumpets sounded fantastic.
 
I cheered along with the crowd. It was Seaman First Mate Franklin A. Donner pulling along side us. He had four monkeys on swings up in the rigging of his sailboat playing basketball. His monkeys wore white T-shirts, two with red letters named John and Paul, and two in black letters named Ben and Dick. The number six and the word Rome was on the front of each shirt. The four were as playing cards, the four suits in design. At the center flat cabin roof top of Franklins boat was a pyramid laser box stolen from “The Gathering.”
 
Each time the monkeys would score a basket Johnny Cash would sing, the Pig would dance, and the rim would flame
  
up, and a banana would pop out of the squealing pig on the ships bow. The monkeys were quick doing flips and robbing each other of both basketballs and bananas. Franklin and Windy stood together waving. Bo and Don Dave were sitting at a table on deck watching two ladies fish off the stern. Both men were half asleep and wearing large Mexican hats. They were leaning hard on golf clubs with both hands as if to help them sit up straight. At the end of a long rope, hooked to the back of Franklin’s big sailboat was a small lifeboat being pulled behind? The lifeboat was half filled with golf balls and what looked like a very much bruised up Steven Hawkins with a “green” flag, duck taped to his wheelchair. His chair was then handcuffed to a very red and battered Jane Fonda sun bathing behind him. Instead of a small sail this little boat had a large poster of John Lennon dressed like Jesus with bonus points written on top. My friends are a little odd sometimes, they are hard to explain. Sometimes you just don’t know.
   

The Ark was slowly cruising to Bermuda, times were again fun loving and easy. We would soon be going to Virginia (at least that’s what the computer navigator said). Praise God! Tell my Patty I’m on the way home. Ship protection patrols started but were often done by drones. We could all use a break after “the Gathering. James Kessler head of the “Boson mates” (or janitors) sometimes called “Bozo” from his hair do, (or lack of hair to do with); stopped by my big corner table. He was complaining that everything was dumped on his crew during and after “The big Gathering” with no help during post cleanup from other departments. He did have a point; we all got the ship ready, and we all pitched in and made the mess. After his venting nobody cared. What is the point, James, just man up and take the hit, because nobody cares. He continued on his way complaining again to each person he saw. He reminded me of Peanut and her complaining. We all know people like this who talk about fairness all the time, the poor thing has been offended in life. Try your best not to be a constant complainer or searcher for fairness because this is all crap. In the end no one cares, or even gives a damn, about your pitiful, stupid problems, even the ones who like or love you.

That night hundreds of undergraduates from all over Europe joined the Great Ark. Tuition now was eighty-five thousand dollars. It had gone down in price from last years cost of sixty thousand because of the bottomless Osoma dollar. Osoma’s narrow views, slowness of whit, and his
 
burning desire to be accepted by his slum, Ghetto, rapper, thug cronies and his elite academic wanna “bees” had brought shame and disgrace to America. His endless apologies for American greatness, and his illegal pandering to crocked cronies by the billions of dollars was not even hidden from public record. No the U.S. Treasury and white house silver was raided both the same as a no pride low class street thug would do. One of the least qualified American Presidents in history, he was the hidden from view affirmative action nightmare from hell. Hiding his overriding stupidity took a hard working loyal staff and a go team spirit from the press. Some white house guests got so concerned that they presumed he had been the victim of a stroke or heart attack and worried about the government collapsing. Osoma once got lost on the white house grounds on his way to a beer summit and often did or should have canceled a speech if his teleprompter broke. He was mentally incapable of even high school level debate, without his ear piece.
   
 
         

This night four of the “New kids” on ship joined my table and all praised Osoma. All four had signed up to “give back” by planting trees for a year. This for the good fight against global warming and to save mankind before it was all too late. It was high time for the anti-professor to shine the light on a repeat lesson of “fighting the forest”.
 

“Have any of you students ever flown over or driven across Virginia, West Va. Carolina, Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, or Georgia? I suggest you get in a small plane and fly all day, look around as long as you can afford or stand! Fly anywhere up and down the coast this side of the Mississippi where most Americans live. A vast forest and jungle you will see. Grazing land has been allowed to “go back” to forest because of low farm prices. Many farms of yesteryear have grown back to wilderness again and yes some are now suburbs. The forest is expanding year after year at a steady rate. The truth is Americans have been “fighting the forest” for hundreds of years now and we are losing! The damn forest is over taking us. Now whom do you think planted all those new trees? A bunch of “go green” idiot college kids like you! Hell no! God did! God uses critters, birds, and the wind and guess what? God knows what he’s doing. Have any of you young saps ever owned a piece of property or been responsible for one? (None had) To grow a wilderness or forest all you have to do is just do nothing.
 
All property in Virginia back home grows up at a rate of three to four feet a year. Just like a man’s beard if you “let it go to seed” or without cutting, his beard will soon show. God designed the forest to plant itself. Whatever planting you kids do will not make much difference except to maybe a paper company creating pine thickets. Planting a tree can be a joy, so can watching it grow up, but all that “plant a tree to save the world” crap is bogus. Your yard is a planed deforested garden spot with controlled tree growth and the problem is always too many trees. You don’t have to plant them. Even in big city parks like Central Park in New York City, stopping trees from growing and cutting back, or cutting down trees amounts to most of the work not planting more trees. Workmen spend most of their time killing trees, not planting trees. Too many damn trees, is always the problem for mankind because men do not like the forest. Go out in the woods and look around, see if
 
 
anybody else is there. Duh, why are you all by yourself? People say they love the forest but they do not like the forest. People never spend much time in the woods; at least not 99.9 percent. How much time out of your life have you spent in the woods and or forest, since you were born? Hell most people won’t walk through tall grass much less a forest thicket. The truth is we are falling behind in fighting the forest ever since we killed off the Indians. The Indians killed off trees much faster than us silly white men. Thousands of men go to work every day just in my home state of Virginia alone all trying to kill and cut back trees. They have even resorted to modern day chemical warfare against the forest and the forest is still overtaking us. Trees are a crop in some places, a very good renewable resource. That is probably who has fooled you into working for nothing. As a forest worker you may not be very skilled or productive so nothing might be a good price for your work. Kishia, please stop this save the world, Captain Planet, nonsense. He is a cartoon just as dumb and silly as Bugs Bunny. You have believed a lie. It’s time now to grow up and get over it. Please don’t base your life on a cartoon. Grow up and answer me please? Is your name really Kishia? Or is this some kind of sick joke? ......
 
Ok then Kishia it is!