A Literary
Journal of Critical Thinking
In
the Samizdat Tradition of Writing against the Machine
A Forum for
Examining the Dark Side of the Academic/Literary Industrial Complex
Berthing
Excerpt from Berthing, a 60-page three-act play critical of the US Navy's educational program afloat. All
material on this site is copyright©G. Tod Slone, 2005, editor of The American
Dissident (www.geocities.com/enmarge).
Nighttime in the berthing. Dr. Cromby has just finished his afternoon classes in the dungeon training room in the bottom of the hull and is laying supine on his bunk rack, typing away on his laptop computer, beginning his play about two professors sharing a berthing on a U.S. Navy ship. The blue curtains are fully drawn round his rack space, concealing him from view. Dr. Whalen steps into the room, having just finished his treadmill workout, or turnout, as he refers to it. He is dressed in old tee-shirt and blue shorts and is holding a towel. He looks completely beaten and sits down on his chair in front of his tiny two-foot-wide-fold-out-from-the-wall desk top and stares into the void for a few moments.
Dr. Whalen: Goddamn rap music was so loud in there! I’m not gonna put up with that shit. I just pulled
the wire out of the back of the machine. I made the pronouncement to the whole goddamn gym. I just screamed out: OH BULLSHIT! I said, I want that goddamn music turned down. He’s gonna have to get a screwdriver to put the wire back in. Nobody said anything. They know better. I had a really nice run on the machine today. I did okay on the sit-ups, but I did much better on building the pecs. I really pushed up the weight. Well, I know what to do with that speaker now. I jerk the little sonofabitch right out by the roots. Twice now I’ve done that.
Dr. Cromby: (Feigning interest.) Wow.
Dr. Whalen: Well, I think I’ll forget the shower today. Fuck it. (Stares into the void again for a moment,
stands up, removes his shorts, revealing old, stretched out dangling white briefs, then grabs a comic-book size magazine, Pencil Puzzles, walks to his bunk, lays down on his rack, and begins muttering loudly to himself off and on.) Duffle-bag. Snare! I’ve got it covered. I’m gonna win this shit! It’s been a tough type of puzzle. Thirteen. There it is. Spiral goes right out there. S, P, I, R, A, L. Too many of these, I don’t get. I rip ‘em up and throw ‘em in the wastebasket. But this one I’m gonna win. Let’s see: snare. So, P, R, prize goes here and then P, E, pellet. Four though. H, E, heardsman. Yep, hearrrr-dsman! Yep. Works! And then, a sea. Hurricane! Hurrrrr-icane. God I’m so sharp! I don’t even believe it today. Now what goes here? Trust. Trust goes up here and time, then goes down here. No, there it is: T, I, M, E. Oh, oh, it might go the other way. Better hold on time. (Suddenly gets up off his rack, hustles to the door, and steps out into the p-way or passageway). God, what I do for my friends!
Dr. Cromby: I really want you to know just how much I appreciate it.
Dr. Whalen: (Steps back inside, then lays down on his rack again.) Well, I jumped up all that way and
nothing happened. Okay, Dolphin is next. I see the phin, but can’t find the dol. Digital. (Makes a loud hocker throat clear, but without expectoration.) D, I, G (Puts down Pencil Puzzles and turns his head toward Dr. Cromby’s blue curtains.) One of the things I’m gonna do is run study halls during class so I can sit on my fat ass and ruminate. (Gets up, walks out the door, and farts loudly.)
Dr. Cromby: Christ, I felt the freakin’ floor shudder! You haven’t had gas like that in two weeks. What
did you have to eat?
Dr. Whalen: I haven’t been eating those cans of beans for the past two weeks either! (Picks up a can of
Hormel’s chile beans from Dr. Cromby’s desk.) It’s your fault! You leave this shit lying around here, and I eat it. Boston beans will do it to you, and you know that as well as I do. (Snorts loudly.) Oh, I just found two great books. I’m gonna be reading all weekend. Look at these. (Holds up a couple of books. Dr. Cromby opens his curtain to look.)
Dr. Cromby: Where did you get ‘em?
Dr. Whalen: Downstairs. Down in the library. I don’t check ‘em out. To hell with that! Fuckem! All
these books on my desk. They’re library books! I’m gonna go through them and come up with 10 for this summer. I’ll put them in my suitcase. Fuck it! This one here is a piece of shit. I’ll read it now.
Dr. Cromby: Christ, you go through a lot of books.
Dr. Whalen: Well, there’s nothing else to do. Last ship I went through about one a day. I used to be a
speed-reading instructor. Oh jeeze, I used to speed read something terrible. I used to go through three in the morning sometimes.
Ship intercom: SECURITY ALERT, SECURITY ALERT! ALL HANDS ON! ALL STAND FAST! (A
piercing blast of ship whistle follows.)
Dr. Whalen: Oh, shut up! (Gets out of his rack and sits at his desk. A foot-long fluorescent bulb
illuminates the area. The same with the professors’ bunks. Otherwise the room is dark. Pulls textbooks out of a carton by the side of his chair.) Sometimes the college will slide in teachers’ copies for books. You gotta watch ‘em. You have to watch ‘em like a hawk. (Picks up a small razor cutter off his desk.) Oh, I just love this cutter! I go nowhere without it. All we did was sell books the first week, for chrissakes. I’ll show you how to add it all up. We’ll box them up Monday. I’ve got the tape and cutter, so you can borrow that. Now, always send the books priority mail. It doesn’t matter how much it costs. Priority mail is what you have to do. That’s the important thing… and making it come out right—total due. Okay, I’ll work on that later.
Voice from the p-way: Anchors away, my lads, anchors away. (Phone rings in the professors’ berthing.
Dr. Whalen picks it up.)
Dr. Whalen: Yes? This is Dr. Whalen. Yes, he’s here. Dr. Cromby it’s for you.
Dr. Cromby: Shit. (Gets out of his rack to Dr. Whalen’s delight and grabs the phone.) Yes? You
won’t be in class tomorrow? Okay, Mr. Harper. No problem. (Hangs up the phone and gets back on his rack.)
Dr. Whalen: Christ you didn’t have to give the number to all your students!
Dr. Cromby: You’re the one who told me to do that!
Dr. Whalen: I did not. (Opens the door and leaves. Dr. Cromby gets out of his rack, pulls out a bag
from the top bunk and takes a pop tart out. Opens the wrapper and eats. Gets back into the rack. Turns the berthing light on. A few moments later, Dr. Whalen returns, turns the light back off and takes his trousers of, revealing the same white jockeys, hanging, dripping off his buttocks from years of usage.) Goddamn, I just got caught taking peanut butter!
Dr. Cromby: Did they take your name or what?
Dr. Whalen: I don’t think there’s anyone else who looks faintly like me on the ship. I just lifted up the
thing and there was a jar of peanut butter, then I wanted to find some bread, and four of them came out of nowhere right up to me like I was some kind of thief. I just told ‘em I was going to watch the movie on the tv and I wanted to have some peanut butter. You know, I just like peanut butter. I laughed, but geeze they looked serious. Oh man, they must have had it staked out or something because they were on me like a book. I said I was hungry. That’s the same two came in hutzy tutzy the other day. I’d be very goddamned careful if I were you. It looks to me like they’re staking it out. Probably better I got caught than you though. I handled it pretty guiltily just the same. Hell, we’ve both been liftin’ that metal curtain up. I’ve seen other officers liftin’ it up looking for fruity this and that. I ain’t coming back on this goddamn ship anyway. Well, it’s an average ship. There’s worse and there’s better. (Coughs wildly.) Peanut butter would’ve cured that that tickle in the throat. (Sits down at his desk and starts shuffling through papers.)
Dr. Cromby: Yeah, I’ve been liftin’ that curtain too just to see what’s under it.
Dr. Whalen: Yeah, well, this goddamn student says to me this morning, ‘I’ll be in, please save me a book he says.’ Okay, I’ll save you a book. He says it again, ‘please save it for me.’ But he’s full of horseshit. Then I looked at the record. My records are straight, right up to date. And I know how many papers are late now. He and that other guy have an abysmal attendance record. They haven’t even got what the midterm is yet. They got nothing. Now, Pitt is borderline and White is borderline. Both of those are borderline, so if they show up this weekend I can help ‘em, but the other two, I don’t know. I’ve got four people. They haven’t touched the book. They don’t even have a book. They play games with me. One of them says, oh I’m sharing a book with so and so, the other one says, oh I’m sharing a book with so and so. They haven’t been there and when I do see them they’re sharing a book they don’t even have. And of course, let’s see how many of my drops—I wanna drop three or four of them because they didn’t have… they said they had college courses but they hadn’t taken a class. How can they even get pissed off? They haven’t been there. I’ve seen them maybe one time each. I’ve seen White one time and the guy he’s sharing the book with—I’ve seen him one time too. Pitt is the one that said she’d pick up her book yesterday, but she didn’t show. She’s been there twice—talked to me in the hall—and she’s about ready to get dropped, plus she was on the original list. So she’s been warned.
Ship intercom: SECURE FOR TOXIC GAS DRILL! RESTORE ALL CASUALTIES! RESTORE ALL
GEAR! (Dr. Whalen, sitting at his desk, picks up a can of athlete’s foot powder and sprays down his left leg.)
Dr. Cromby: Jesus, this place smells like talcum powder. We’ll get cancer from that shit. I bet it contains
asbestos.
Dr. Whalen: Oh, stop complaining! I’d do it in the p-way but there are women on the deck. (Puts his
trousers and slippers on, then scuttles out the door. Dr. Cromby continues typing away on his laptop. Dr. Whalen comes back shortly.) Well, I’m not going to sit through another showing of the “Gladiator”! Both rooms are showing the “Gladiator.” That’s all they show around here. Christ, I’ve seen it five times already. Well, it’s a damn fine movie just the same. But I’m not gonna sit through another “Gladiator.” (Takes off his slippers and trousers, then looks down at the garbage can.) Christ, we fill this garbage can up, pump it full of stuff. I’ll put it out later. Captain says they have honor, courage and commitment. HORSESHIT! HORSESHIT! Sounds good though. It’s a good ad for a goddamn high school.
Dr. Cromby: (Holds up a pamphlet.) I gave you one of these things, didn’t I? ‘Conflict Resolution.’”
Dr. Whalen: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Ship intercom: (A medium-length message is delivered, but entirely incomprehensible.)
Dr. Cromby: I couldn’t understand a word of that.
Dr. Whalen: That’s because the guy doesn’t speak English. They got some Filipino on that thing. (Let’s
loose with a hocker throat clearing but without the expectoration expected.) I always carry an extra bungee cord with me. You can always find a use for one of them. Just like I always carry a little screwdriver with me. (Glances over at Dr. Cromby’s desk.) Shit you’re givin’ me a headache with all these papers on your desk. I can feel my blood pressure with all these goddamn forms.
Dr. Cromby: What forms?
Dr. Whalen: Withdrawal forms! (Picks up one off Dr. Cromby’s desk and examines it.) Great, there’s
another one who dropped bonehead English to take my Psychology. That speaks well of my Psychology. (Looks down at the green rubber frog on his desk and talks to it.) You get your act together! (Squeezes green frog, which squeaks.) That frog speaks to me all the time! If you get one back without a signature, then sign it yourself. Who the hell’s gonna know? Sign it yourself! This is west of the Pecos here! (Picks up a pocket book off his desk.) Well, maybe I’ll start the next one here. Okay, I’ll start reading a book, that’s it. (Turns off the main light, lays down on his rack, then opens the book. Hesitates.) I’m not gonna read this. I’ve already read it! (Throws the book against the wall.)
Ship intercom: SHIPMATES—NOW IS A GOOD TIME TO BEGIN THINKING ABOUT DOING
YOUR WILL. PLEASE DO NOT WAIT RIGHT BEFORE A MAJOR DEPLOYMENT WHEN THE REST OF THE BATTLE GROUP IS TRYING TO GET THEIR WILLS. UPDATE IT NOW! AVOID THE RUSH! PLEASE CONTACT CHIEF BORDEAUX AT EXTENSION 7099 FOR MORE INFORMATION.
SCENE 2
The male head contains eight toilet stalls, including one with the door shut and large sign: STALL SECURED. Bright fluorescent lighting bathes the room. The same eternal gurgling of the pipes maintains sameness of ambiance. Dr. Cromby has just finished peeing in one of the stalls. He flushes with his right foot, steps out and walks to the door, but Dr. Whalen suddenly bursts open the door, enters, and blocks the exit with his large body. The two professors stand in the middle of the head, unoccupied stalls on either side of them. Dr. Whalen immediately begins talking, or rather lecturing.
Dr. Whalen: Well, I was going to make sure I got my other class. In this instance, I would have gotten it.
In some ships, you can drive students out of the woodwork. You have to work a work of art on them. It isn’t so easy. In this instance, I didn’t have to do it. I had plenty of students, but I didn’t know that to start with. Remember, I was getting $40 down for a $79 textbook. Give me 40, give me 30, cause I know I needed 11 students to justify another class. Now, within the first hour, I saw I was going to get all kinds of students. If I have a set amount of students and I go in, a lot depends on when payday falls.
Ship intercom: ALL VISITORS ARE REQUESTED TO DEPART THE SHIP AT THIS TIME!
Dr. Whalen: You could have 40 students if you’re registering and your class starts five days before
payday and they drop out because they don’t have money to get the book and it’s five days before payday. I’ve had it eight, 10 students who’ve said I don’t have the money. I’m not in. So then I adjust the class. I start the class three days later or something. Technically we didn’t start any classes here until two or three days later than planned. I adjusted the damn schedule, that’s all. Shit, we registered for two days and our class was just a formality. We didn’t get going till the second week. So sure, you’re gonna be doing all kinds of things. Fuck what the office says! You’ve gotta make a living!
Dr. Cromby: (Yawns.) You ought to write a book on this thing.
Dr. Whalen: I’m not writing any fucking book on this shit! The hell with that!
Dr. Cromby: Yeah, well, you know all the ins and outs. The college ought to make it a policy to send
first-time instructors out with you.
Dr. Whalen: That’s the last goddamn thing they’d want to do. I cut so many fuckin’ corners. Well, with
your classes now, you can sometimes start with three maybe and say, hey can I get four? English teachers always get four or five. This ship sucks on the way they schedule them. It would be a B ship except for that. I don’t like their scheduling and I don’t like their attitude. Christ, I had to fight tooth and nail with that grumpy chief just to get a third class. I rate it a C/C+. I’m never coming back on it. (An officer walks in.) Hi. (The officer looks grumpily at Dr. Whalen, doesn’t say anything, steps into a stall and urinates. Dr. Whalen gives Dr. Cromby a look as in fuckim.)
Ship intercom: TATOO, TATOO! TAPS! TAPS! All HANDS TURN INTO YOUR OWN BUNKS!
MAINTAIN SILENCE ABOUT THE DECKS!
End of excerpt
ALL MATERIAL ON THIS SITE IS COPYRIGHT ©G. Tod Slone, 2005, The American Dissident www.theamericandissident.org.