h The things that happen behind your back h
This is a pretty short comic, but I still canna fash meself to scan and translate it (like they say over in Scotland). So, instead, you can read the short story it's based on.
Willie crouched down as she stepped through the narrow doorway that led into
the ship's washroom. She was carrying a heap of laundry and did not notice
Aeron, their mate, until she had dropped it on the floor beneath one of the
copper sinks.
He was washing one of his shirts, naked above the waist. Willie
rather enjoyed the sight - after all, Aeron was the only male person on board
except for the Captain's humanoid fiancé.
"Didn't think of washing your
shirts until there weren't any clean ones left, did you", she said.
Aeron
grinned over his shoulder. "I borrowed them to my poor sister."
Willie turned
the squeaking water tap and poured hot water into the sink. "What on earth
for?!"
"She said she missed the 'smell of men'..." Aeron laughed a bit
embarrassed.
"Well", Willie said, raising her eyebrow. "It can't be easy for
her. One day a lady of the night, next day a member of an almost girls only
crew."
Suddenly she noticed something on Aeron's right shoulder
blade.
"Hey!" she cried in exaltation. "I didn't know you were a
Stalinist!"
"Uh, I'm not", Aeron mumbled. "Honestly!" he added as Willie gave
him a scrutinizing look. "That was just one of the things that happen behind
your back."
"Huh?"
Aeron wrung out the black shirt (which actually had the same colour as any
other garment he owned)."You see ... about seven years ago, when I still sailed
these seas under the bright red flag of the URSA (Union of Revolutionary
Socialist Amities), we once berthed at the glittering harbour of Santião de
Cuwa. We got the night off and ... well, you know what us sailors usually do
after some months' worth of backbreaking. Anyway, next thing I knew I was laying
on a pier with the sun routing about in my brain with her spears."
"Yeah",
Willie interrupted. "That's the sailor's way."
"Shut up. Somehow I then found
my way back to our ship. Of course, I received a thorough scolding from the
Captain for being so late, and he made me scrub the entire decks in the burning
sun."
"When I finally had finished the scrubbing I staggered to the washroom, with
all the bits of my body in a collective ache. As I struggled off my undershirt I
noticed blood on the back of it.
"With trembling hands I held a shaving
mirror over my shoulder to scan my back for whatever ominous injury I had
incurred, standing in front of the cracked washroom mirror.
"But ho, such
terror!!! I screamed in dread as I traced the oh so well known features of uncle
Josif - etched into my own skin! I swore never to drink
again."
"Yeah", Willie said, "and how long did you manage to keep
that oath?"
"Almost three days!" Aeron said proudly. Willie just
looked at him.
"Well", Aeron said. "That's the story." He hung up his shirt on the drying
rack on the low ceiling. "Right. I'm going to bed now." He stepped to the door.
"See you in the morning!"
" 'night", Willie said. While she washed the rest
of her clothes, she thought of the high rate of tattoos among communist leaders:
Lenin, Stalin, and yes, Tito, too!
Perhaps it was about time she also got
one.
And all that was heard was the drip-drop from Aeron's shirt and the
sounds of the dark bobbing sea on the other side of the hull.
Well, wasn't that nice?
Copyright: Tinet Elmgren