Howdy, Stranger!

It looks like you're new here. If you want to get involved, click one of these buttons!

Are you a storytelling chef eager to cook up a tale?
Register for the site and read "How to Play."

We're eager to read your storecipes!

Evening Sailor

Level: Chef
Your basket:
Main Ingredients: 
netflix queue

Spice Pack: 
1 dollop of amazement
1/2 whisper of relief

The man adjusted his large silver plated belt buckle before sitting down. He knew that once he sat down, his position would be locked until he absolutely had to get up, which only occurred when he had to use the bathroom or when his daughter came to visit.
He sighed quietly. “It’s just the price of getting old,” he thought. His arms, marked with the number 8213, an homage to his Navy regime, had once boasted muscles that had won him the strongest sailor award on the U.S.S. Bunker Hill in 63’,64’, and 66’. He should have won in 1965 as well, but a small incident on the boat, in which he participated, disqualified him.
He smiled at the memory. It was around Thanksgiving, and most of his regime had received notice that they would not be docked, and therefore not allowed leave to go home on the holiday. It wasn’t heartbreaking to hear per-say, but it was a disappointing realization based on the knowledge that the men would be subjected to a meager dinner that didn’t come close to homemade food they could easily have found in Texas. As good sailors do, they accepted the orders and prepared for a dinner on the ship.
Two days later when T-Day arrived, all the men were brought to the canteen to eat dinner. What they were served looked like slop with a brown-black mix that was supposed to be gravy thrown on top. Nikias, the oldest soldier who had Greek heritage and loud opinions, made his discontent known when he aggressively chucked an artichoke at the head chef. John ducked out of the way and watched in amazement as the vegetable hit the poor boy in the shoulder. The young man spun to look at his aggressor, and after realizing it was his brother, picked up what vaguely resembled mashed potatoes and launched them with enthusiasm. What ensued was The Great Food Fight of 1965.
Any and all participation lead to immediate disciplinary action, which for John meant that he wouldn’t get to participate in the weight lifting competition. “What a pity,” he thought as he settled into his chair. He knew he would have won, and now at the age of 83, he could barely lift the toilet seat so he could use the restroom. But at least when he sat at home preparing to shift through his Netflix queue, he could look back and think of the amazing things he had done with his life, and feel relieved, because it didn’t feel like he’d wasted any of his time.


  • This is an amazing dish! While reading this I felt as if I was watching an old black and white documentary about a solider and his experience during The Great Food Fight of 1965. I also thought you did a great job using your basket ingredients and spice pack to cook up a great dish because the two seemed to marinate very nicely and smoothly together. I liked your dish so much that it made me want to keep reading about the little old sailor's navel and life history.
  • The imagery and your voice excellently made the story of this old sailor come to life! It was absolutely captivating, and I agree with the comment above me that it felt like a black and white movie of an old sailor remembering the 'Great Food Fight of 1965'.

    Really excellent dish!
Sign In or Register to comment.
Vanilla Theme by VrijVlinder