Stowaway

Our ad was very clear. I specifically asked for ONE crew member, because this a small boat, we live in close quarters, and there’s no room for a whole mess of people.

So I was pretty annoyed to find out we have a stowaway. And this situation’s been going on for weeks. More than three months, from what I can tell.

I smelled a rat when our food started disappearing. Sour pickles, chocolate, salty nuts. Whoever this bum is, he or she’s got a hell of an appetite.

And he’s not pulling his weight, either. If I’ve got extra mouths to feed, I want a little help around here. Doing the dishes, standing watch, or just picking up Silas’ Legos off the floor. I don’t ask for much. But this joker just stays in his comfy little dark place, taking warm baths and eating my food. Getting fat on my dime. By May, this guy’s gonna be huge. Eight, nine pounds at least.

It wasn’t easy catching the rascal. For one thing, he’s only about the size of my thumb. Plus he’s pretty wily, and he never makes a peep. We finally snapped a picture using sonar. And here’s the proof:


Look at him. Lounging around. Relaxing. Sipping amniotic fluid, with no thought for the future. I can tell you right now that when he comes out in May, things are gonna change around here.

For one thing, a good night’s sleep will be a thing of the past. And then there’s the diapers. The long, dark tunnel of diapers, from which we may never emerge.

As of next May, we’ll be a family of four. And Sereia’s gonna need more bunks.