The Doctor

:: Jack lies awake silently cursing the restraints binding him to his Infirmary bunk. He can tell that the ship is under sail, and the footfalls on the deck above speak of the crew's urgent state of mind. To many of us are wounded for direct action, but the lack of chatter from the gun deck says we're neither running nor engaging. Perhaps we are shadowing another vessel? Or answering a distress signal? He's as hungy for action and swag as anyone else on board - the hunt, the struggle, then the kill. He looks about the Sickbay, and sees the Surgeon at her writing desk. Although still weak from his recent fever and infection, he carefully swallows, then inhales deeply before attempting to speak :: Dr. Fitzgerald? We are under way, aren't we? When might I return to my post?

It was another perfect weekend - sunny, low 70's, breezy - for "Middle East Mystique" Weekend... Member from my Arabian horse club gave a great Native Costume riding demonstration. I spent most of the day drinking Guinness at "Mac's Pub", a.k.a. "Pirate's Cove". Shanties, loud and bawdy fun, and entertainers galore. "My Lady's Cutlass" were there, and they are great! I never thought that belly-dancers would go so well with shanties, but the ladies who dropped in aquitted themselves well. The guitar player, Ian MacFarlane, eventually had to close his eyes or look the other way to keep from being distracted. And they were trying very hard to distract him! It was a riot! And as always, "Puke and Snot" were not to be missed. Watching someone perform the soliloqy from "Richard III" while eating carrots... You have to see it to believe it. So, I ate too much, drank too much, and laughed more than I have in a long time. I can't wait to go again!

:: Jack stirs from him morphine-induced slumber. Thoughts flow like molasses on a chilled day. He tries to bring his hand to his head, and finds himself still restrained. He thinks back, and remembers that Christine was there, too. Something about her being attacked? Some wraith-like thing feeding off her? No, no, wait... The fever. It has to be from the fever. So many strange thoughts... His head hurts, and his throat is parched. As he tries to get more comfortable in his bunk, he's reminded of the injury to his leg by way of a searing jolt of pain. He wonders how long he's been in the Infirmary... As he looks around, he sees Christine still sleeping quietly. Confident that the Doctor will make her rounds before long, he closes his eyes and rests ::

Take a Chance On Me (I had a friend who swore it was "Chicken Pants On Me" )

Too long you've wandered in Winter, far from my far-reaching gaze... You resist, but your soul obeys!

Have you forgotten your Angel?

Wandering child, so lost, so helpless . . . yearning for my guidance . . .

Your chains are still mine - you will sing for me!

:: Jack hears Christine's soft voice, and he opens his eyes. His head lolls over to look at Christine, and his eyes lock on to hers. The look upon her face is tormented and pleading, horrifically so. A dark mist seems to hover above her. As he stares into it, a death's head seems to materialize in the mist above Christine's head, and it turns toward Jack. Seeming to be caught in the act, the skull's jaw drops open and emits a hideous screech! The dark mist coalesces, and escapes through the Infirmary door. Jack's mouth works in wordless terror as Christine's eyes slowly close :: No, no, NO! We're damned! Saints preserve us, we're all dead men! :: Jack screws his eyes shut, and cries as he pleads to God for mercy ::

swinging from the chandelier

GelStat was just featured on the news here in Minneapolis, and it's supposed to be a good remedy with no side effects. They were even featured in the Wall Street Journal. As someone who used to write pharmacokinetic dosing software, I'm always wary of interactions and side effects. These guys seem to know what they're talking about. To quote Pink Floyd, "I have become comfortably numb."

Have you tried GelStat? It's supposed to work incredibly well. It's an OTC sublingual remedy that's had tremendous success.

The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing

:: Jack mind continued to carom wildy through a myriad of memories turned nightmares. A comission. A ship. Mutiny. Marooning. Rescue. Doctors. Questions. Accusations. Medicines. Imprisonment. Abandonment. Every time he tries to latch on to a piece of this swirling puzzle one might whimsically call a memory, every other piece that might connect slips from his grasp. The one element he has firm hold on, he hangs onto for his very life - his name. "Jack St. Anthony. My name is Jack St. Anthony." Holding on to that single piece of information - an identitiy - he relaxes and ceases to struggle against the flood of disconnected images. He allows the torrent to pass over him, for he cannot chase it, nor can he run from it. His breathing eases, and his muttering fades away. He feels an odd sensation, and slowly realises that someone is dabbing the sweat from his forehead He remembers her soft words from earlier, and the fear that has been hounding him so unmercifully slips away. His eyes open, and a small smile plays across his lips :: Why, Doctor. You've found out my little game. Please, marry me at once, for I fear any further attempts at wooing you will be the end of me... :: He tries to laugh, but it quickly turns into a wracking cough. The Doctor gives him a ladle of water to quench his thirst. He looks about the sickbay, an sees Christine. He speaks slowly and quietly... :: Is our Captain well? And... the bonny lass is fallen ill? Dark doings, that. Something dark and unnatural... :: His eyes grow heavy again, but he does not fight it this time. Sleep is welcome, and he lets it envelope him ::

Drunk, happily looking forward to going back out to the Renaissance Faire this weekend... Wondering if my kitten will quit trying to eat my braids... Drunk.... and thinking that "Full Throttle" and tequila might be a bad combination... This is Mad Jack, signing off... Open the Stargate! WoooooooooOOOOOOOOooooooo~~~!!!!

Certainly nothing ye want to study while sober!

Ramesses the Great (saw the exhibit in Memphis - amazing stuff!!)

:: Jack strains to adjust to the light. He lolls his head about, trying to get his bearings. He sees the good Doctor, administering water. Cool, sweet water. Tasteless, yet utterly satisfying. His head swings in the direction of the Captain's voice, and he sees the charts in the Captain's hands. He focuses for a bit and says :: Sir, that be a Portugese rutter. Very accurate. Target... rich... Lots for the taking... If ye catch... me meaning... Admiralty.... sent... me... :: Jack falls back into haunted slumber, of duty, honor, and betrayal... ::

velvet touch

:: Jack stirs and begins to regain a tenuous grasp upon his wits. He feels the gentle rocking of of the ship, far smoother than the jostling gait of the jolly boat in his strange, troubling nightmares. He tries to open his eyes, but the small lamps of the Infirmary may as well have been the Noon sun, making his head throb with pain. And his leg... it hurts, so it must still be there. What are these? Restraints? He hears voices, and he slowly puts identities with what he hears... Dr. Fitz... Fitzgerald? Yes, that's right. And the Captain. Good. He's alive, then. And good Jacob's laugh. "I'm on the Watch Dog. What is my name? Damn it, not again... Jack. My name is Jack. Jack... Samson? No, that's not right. Jack S... St. Anthony. Jack St. Anthony. That's my name! I know my name!" Jack's mouth is parched, his tongue thick. He tries to speak, but his voice emerges as a weak croak :: Water... Please...

Peeing on everyting in sight...

:: Jack throws his limbs about in his fever, remembering things best left forgotten... "No! No, damn and forsake you! The Fotunato is mine! I'll kill every last one of ye dirty louts, barehanded if I must!! You're... you're leaving me... Please, don't! Don't do this filthy work, damn your souls! I am lost, and I know not where I may land. Damn you! Damn you all to Hell...." :: :: His exhortations become a whisper, and he falls deeper into his fever...

Aye! What a capital idea! I'm off to buy Oriental and watch PotC!

Tired, after staggering around the MN Renaissance Faire, then falling down the stairs of my home yesterday morning. My chiropractor has set me right , but I have to drive down to Iowa tomorrow, then appear at the Ren faire next weekend in full garb as part of my Arabian club's appearance. Seems like all these horses belong to a captain name of "Mad Jack", and he commands when the'll be shown! Should be a fun time. I know I'll be well into the mead by then... :)

We need to talk, love...