Wahu (Jezzy’s contribution to the report)
Did you ever have one of those days? You know the kind that starts out being the same shit, different day – cooking, spying, the usual, then picks up in a most delightful way - like, say being fired from a job you really don’t want to do; only to have it end on the sourest, drunkest note – getting the stupid fucking job back, finding out that your soul mate has been shot…
Welcome to Sheila’s world.
The day starts out innocently enough. I go to the kitchen to practice my vegan cooking demonstration. I plan on faking a severed finger using some ketchup. However, all that time watching Black perform his special effect wizardry is for naught as the ketchup packet explodes with a force unseen since (Up)Chuck’s last power puking incident and deposits its contents on the once pristine shirt of Monotone Man. He is less than pleased and starts complaining in his lowest decibel most monotone voice about the stains. I offer to clean it, but he refuses to take it off. I can no longer stand his monotone whining (not that the tone changed, but his vocabulary definitely indicated a whining state), so I throw some club soda on him. He seems flustered even though I point out that the stain is gone.
He returns a short time later with Monotone Man II, leading me to believe that the ship is supervised by a secret order of monotonic, emotionless freaks with good managerial skills (kind of like the Castrati of the music world in the Middle Ages). Anyway, Monotone Man informs me that I am fired. (Sheila does her happy dance all the way back to her room to pack.)
Meanwhile…
Cahill is having breakfast with a shake. Hmm? Is that like a healthy shake for breakfast, one for lunch… Oh, Sheik! I am finding his Texan accent almost as difficult to deal with as Karin’s butchered English. No wonder they work together.
Luke has ‘hooked up’ with a Ms. Swanson, the chick in the black dress that caught Cahill’s attention. She seems interested in him and they arrange to have dinner. Luke calls Maggie to tell her that he is single. This comes as quite a surprise to Mrs. Luke, so he clarifies things by telling her that he is going on a ‘date’ to get information.
Karin is busy directing social activities when she spots Dr. Trumble with Detective Falani. She can’t understand the conversation, but follows until they part. She sees Detective Falani return to her room.
Claire is running around trying to make contact with all of the bidders that will be invited to the demonstration of Dr. Trumble’s method. She receives a phone call asking her to get in touch with Cahill. She finds him having his morning shake and gets him to the phone. He is less than pleased to hear that I have lost my job and sends Claire to find me.
She knocks on my door and I let her in. She stands in the center of the room as I dance around her in order to complete my packing. Then, some Italian man knocks on the door. Claire lets him in – it turns out it’s Cahill. I stop dancing. He asks Claire to get him a drop cloth with a laugh (really, he isn’t very good at joking). We have a less than pleasant conversation. Is it my fault that Monotone Man has an unreasonable aversion to ketchup and club soda? I agree to stay on the ship and ‘observe and report.’ Dejectedly, I unpack my suitcase.
Cahill goes for a lap or twenty-five around the ship in an attempt to relieve his frustration. A crowd gathers to watch him shed pounds.
Claire realizes that in the midst of arranging appointments and contacting all of the bidders, she has had no free time to enjoy the ship or eat, so when she has finished her tasks, acquired a drop cloth and stopped Cahill from running into oblivion, she puts on her bathing suit and makes her way to the pool.
Cahill contacts Maggie and tells her to meet up with me, so we can search the quarters of the potential buyers.
Cahill has decided to let himself into Ms. Swanson’s quarters, via a trip over the rail to the outside wall of her cabin. He quickly searches her room, noting the name on her passport. He leaves the room, and makes his way around the ship.
I have gone to a bar to drink. There are few people in the bar this early, but I find a gentleman to sit next to and we drink to lots of things. He says he is American, but the more he drinks, the more Irish he sounds. (I wonder if I get Karin and Claire drunk, will they become more American sounding? I make a note on my to-do list.) He claims that he is here with a friend, who is meeting a friend, so they can do something and he will have to help, but he is not sure how. Or something like that - we’ve both been drinking. Anyway, my plan is to get him really drunk and go to his cabin. Maggie finds me in the bar (how did she ever know to look there for me?) and thinks I am really drunk. She tells me to find her later.
Ian, the American/Irishman finally invites me to his room, where he proceeds to pass out. Thank goodness, how would I explain him to Jack?
Suddenly, I hear three loud horn blasts. Man Overboard. (Apparently, someone saw Cahill go over the rail.) Then there is a call for a lifeboat drill, so they can take a headcount. I take the opportunity to search Ian’s quarters and find out that he is sharing his room with Finbar McFee (one of the buyers). I find their passports, but find nothing else of interest. I leave Ian on the floor and head to the lifeboats.
I find Maggie, who seems surprised that I am mostly sober. She tells me that we have to search the rooms of Jeremy Walsh, Brandon Lincroft and Finbar McFee. I tell her to forget McFee’s room, because I was with Ian. She stares. I inform her that I searched Ian’s quarters. She stares. I tell her that Ian is Finbar’s cabin mate. She crosses his name off her list.
We arrange to meet outside the main dining room at seven o’clock.
I return to my cabin to await the dinner hour. Claire calls and asks me to come see her. It seems that Cahill, aka Cornball, wants me to check out the room of Detective Falani, or whatever the fuck she’s calling herself these days. I tell her that I already searched Ian’s room and a Q&A session follows: "Who’s Ian?" "A guy I met in the bar." "Oh. You have to search the woman’s room." "Why? I already took care of one of the rooms." "Which one?" "Ian’s." "Who’s Ian?" "A guy I met in the bar. He’s unconscious on his floor now." "Did you hit him?" "Of course not." "Did you have anything to do with his being on the floor?" "No, well maybe." "So you did hit him." "Of course not." "You have to search the women’s room." "Why, I already searched Ian’s room. There are four names on the list and four of us. I did my share." "Which one?" "Ian’s." A frustrated Claire searches her list. I enlighten her. "He’s Finbar’s roommate." "Ahhhh. You have to search the women’s room." I can’t wait to get her drunk!
The dinner hour approaches.
Luke prepares for his dinner date. He hopes to get his date dead drunk before she tries for any kind of intimacy that could get him killed (by his non-single wife).
Cahill dresses up like a Greek local. Just as he finishes putting on his false nose, his phone rings. It’s ISIS, but his new nasal twang is too much for the voice recognition system. He manages to convince them that they have reached Single Star and they tell him that the information he gave them on Ms. Swanson reveals that she is squeaky clean - too clean for Cornball’s tastes.
Luke takes his date for dinner and proceeds to ply her with alcohol. In the end, he finds little to indicate that she is really interested in Dr. Gumble’s method.
Cahill calls me with the information that the detective is on the island and I can search her room now. Maggie lets me in with her passkey and I look around. I find an American passport, some jewelry and several.25 caliber bullets hidden in the jewelry box.
Oh, and I did I mention that, while she has absolutely NO fashion sense, she does have a wonderful selection of shoes. Wow, and not a drop of vomit in sight! You do know why (Up)Chuck is not on this mission, right?
Claire is checking out the dining room to see if our other targets are there, so we can safely check their rooms.
Karin has gone to the disco, since she is not needed to search a room.
Luke’s date is getting completely knackered. In fact, he is relieved to see her pass out and carries her limp body back onboard, happily realizing that now his limp body will not be thrown overboard (you know, after Maggie filled him with bullet holes and removed body parts).
Maggie, Claire and I finally finish searching the targets’ rooms. We don’t really find anything of interest, but make a note of their passports and stuff.
Cahill, disguised as a local Greek fisherman has found the detective and Dr. Gumble dancing the night away. He waits until they separate and starts a conversation in broken German with the doctor. After a friendly conversation, he reveals his true identity to Falani, by asking about her knee injury. They exchange veiled threats and part.
I take Claire to the bar so I can cross something off of my to-do list. As I am teaching her the finer points of alcohol consumption (and realizing that no amount of alcohol will ever rid her of her French Canadian accent), Monotone Man approaches. I see him in the mirror and turn to greet him by spilling my beer on his once again pristine shirt. Claire is eager to introduce Monotone Man to the wonders of alcohol, even though he protests that he gets loud when he drinks. This I have to see.
It turns out to be true. Monotone Man is shouting and Claire, who has become incredibly attached to and afraid of losing her barstool, convinces him to rehire me. What?!?!?!? This is terrible. What can I throw at him that will get me re-fired, but not arrested? I see no likely candidates and turn my attention to the television that is tuned to CNN International. The anchor is talking about a shooting in New York. I see the English spelled Russian words for Ice Queen flash on the screen. Then I hear, Jacques, the International Terrorist. I jump up, grab hold of Claire and run for our cabins, after stopping at the ladies’ room so she can pull an (Up)Chuck, while dialing 1-800-K-I-L-L-J-A-C-K. I leave a rather heated message on his voice mail, but as always end with "hugs and kisses, Sheila." I leave Claire knocking at her door (I really don’t want to face Cahill when he sees the state that Claire is in). I call Jackass’s phone every half-hour until he finally answers. My relief that he is okay is short-lived. What the fuck is going on?? He mumbles something about doctors and needing painkillers. I tell him that I can be a Payne-killer. He promises to call me in the morning.
Claire drunkenly asks Cornball, who has finally managed to divest himself of his false, yet appealing, proboscis, some questions and mentions a barstool, CNN, Jack, Sheila, the F word and a dropcloth. Cornball turns on the television and watches the news reports in horror as he keeps one hand outstretched to hold Claire upright on her chair.
So, as the evening ends, that’s where we are: Luke is convincing Maggie that his date passed out and nothing happened; Cahill is propping up the verschnookered Claire; I am pacing my room and ranting about Jack; and, since Paris isn’t here, Karin is dancing the night away and having a lovely evening with the overdressed bartender she met in the disco.