A freaking flashlight shone in my eyes. Pitch black everywhere else. Oh yeah... I'm still on the ship. The USS Abe Lincoln. The Stinkin Lincoln. Man, I hate this place. I've got the 3-7 watch and it does nothing but fuck with your sleep. Turns out I'm bagging Doc for the 10th time in as many days. Fucker owes me money and won't pay. Fuck him! I'll take it out of him in 15 min increments. " Dude, get up man, your late". "alright, I'm up...tell him I'll be down in a few". I'm way to short for this. This is the last westpac I'll ever pull in this mans Navy. I can't believe how hot it is! Its gotta be 90-95 in berthing. I've been leaving dead mans sheets for weeks now, the oil never really comes out of your pores. Looks like the shroud of Turin whenever i get up. Means its gonna SUCK down in 1MMR.
Alright. I'm up. Jail house uniform on and boots that are so salty they are beginning to crack. That's mostly my salt from sweating so much down in the Engine rooms. Man that pace sucks. Can't even smoke in there anymore. Bullshit. The damn soda cops keep busting my ass for coming out of the MMR wearing coveralls. I'm going to have to do something about that soon.
Gonna have a smoke out of the sponson before releaving Doc. I'll probably see friend out there, fucker is always late.
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