#i always forget until i get to it that the Craig Drinks Piss story turns into Grieving Dad's Sadtime Storyhour

[july-19th-club]

i brought him over with me, you know. we sailed together under avery when we was kids. he was my first bunkmate. and for years, he went on how he'd got this huge stash, hidden away. and i should live to survive him, because one day, i will be a rich man. but as you know...we lost him on the pembroke. so i open his locker and what do i find? twelve pesos. a busted pocket watch. and a letter with instructions to deliver it to his sister in new york. lying sack of shit! was mister craig. so: i bought the boys a round with the pesos, traded the pocket watch for a bit of tail, and spent two weeks that winter in new york trying to deliver that fucking letter to his sister. looked high and low. never found her. so on the way home, i waited until we were in open water and i could see no land in any direction. and i dropped it over the side. returned to the sea...there are no legacies in this life, are there? no monuments. no...history. just the water. it pays us, and then it claims us. swallows us whole. if you EVEN care