A guess post from the Naughty Secratary.

Scene opens to an old whaling vessel in a grey twilight on a calm sea. The fog hangs dense, choking and impenetrable. The creaking of the old ship's moorings are muffled in the swirling fog. A grizzled sea captain stands at the bow, his face dark and furrowed with concern. He laments.

"I ain't seen so thick a fog in near twenty years. Me eyes are a-glazed with the mists and me beard whiskers tastes of the old salt crock. A favorable wind'll blow us out iffen our wits can stand the dead of calm . But it's not so bad as it could be."

He glances down and cups his weathered testicles.

"The vapors, aye. They shake the crusts from me old wrinklebag."

Mysterious Drinker

scene: an old wooden bar. late at night, lingering smoke, nearly empty. an almost-friendly, dusty looking joint. vacant pool table at the rear.

cast: crusty, wise bartender. young man drinking. couple of nameless, faceless others at rear tables.

(bartender approaches customer, replacing his used ashtray with a fresh one.)

bartender: last call, sonny. what'll it be?

(drinker is slightly inebriated but not slurring. slightly depressed but not angry or violent.)

drinker: already? another bourbon. make it a triple.

bartender: girl trouble?

(turns around, reaches for the bottle)

drinker: you could say that

(bartender starts to pour, tapers off early)

bartender: that's a strong dose. sure you want a triple? i ain't staying here all night.

drinker: just pour it.

(bartender pours)

(pause, drinker sips, addresses bartender)

drinker: ya see, my hide is chapped like a couple of sandpapered grizzlies.

bartender: how's that?

drinker: my gristle is putrid!!

(fade to black)

Doctor's visit

scene: a grandfatherly doctor and young man talking in the doctor's office. set in the '40s. the dr. smokes a pipe.

doctor: i'm afraid i have bad news for you, son.

patient: what is it, doc? is it serious?

doctor: you'd better sit down. you appear to have a severe case of scabby bag.

(cue music.)

(patient turns visibly white.)

doctor (sitting down across from the patient): son, have you been picking at your bag with some sort of sharp tool? be honest, now.

patient (looks at ground, then at doctor): oh, doctor! i've been tweezering my sac for the ladies! only, last week i was drunk and tweezered a patch of skin. and now my bag is scabbed! scabby and hairy. and the scabs stick to my pants and rip open when i walk.

(long pause. doctor relights his pipe and looks gravely at his patient.)

doctor: son, i think it's time we call for father michaels.

(light fades.)