Patterson lowered his side of the scaffold, nearly dropping [minor accidental violence] Riley into the foaming water beneath them.

[Adult language warning] "*^%^%#%&*, Pat!" Riley cried out as he swung over the side of the scaffold, and was thrown back by the speed of the Seaview as she raced to the site of the bed of the Happy Clams. He smacked [accidental violence] face-first into the glass.

"I said 'hang on'." Patterson replied, as he fumbled around in his bucket for the bottle of Windex and his roll of cheap no-name paper towels. He looked at the mess [incredibly gross mess] on the windshield of the Seaview. "Why don't you pull the wiper back so we can change that?"

[Adult language warning] "(*(*^%^&$%^%, I always get the mess." Riley complained, trying to unstick the huge wiper blade from the Seaview. They had a wonderful meal of calamari from the last great California that they had managed to run over while pulling away from their parking space at the Institute. Unfortunately, not all of the octopi had been cleaned off and running all night at sea had created a mess and the Captain could not see out the window.

Riley picked up the long skinny box lying at his feet and began to pull out the long skinny replacement blade for the Seaview's giant windshield wiper. "Oh, look! This one is deep-sea green." he remarked. "I was wondering when we would get a bit of class." He began pulling off the old soiled one as Patterson stepped over with the window scraper and bottle of Windex to clean the spot where Riley was working.

Riley noticed the Captain staring through the glass watching them work on cleaning the glass. He was wearing a [minor accidental violence] big white patch of gauze on his forehead, where he had walked up to the glass and run into it. Riley held up his hand to indicate that the Skipper should stop where he was, to keep from repeating the same mistake.

"Good idea." Patterson suggested. "Maybe we should have done that the first time?"

Patterson knocked on the window and pointed down. The Skipper followed his gesturing and looked down at a release lever down near the floor. He reached down and pulled the lever and the massive hood of the Seaview opened up. Due to it's size, it was a two-sided affair with doors opening to the port and starboard.

Riley took a deep breath and leaped from the scaffold, landing on the massive air filter. He reached over, nearly brushing against the manifold and opened the plastic top to pour the gallon of windshield washing fluid into the small tank. Looking back at Patterson, who was finishing up the window, he yelled to get his attention.

"Pat, toss me the rag, will ya?"

Patterson pulled an oily rag from his red overalls and tossed it to Riley, who began to search around for the old dipstick. He smiled as he found it and pulled it out. Wiping it on the rag, he stuck it back into the tubing and pulled it out again.....[Adult language warning] *&&%^%&%^^ Just as I thought! It's a quart low.

"Hey, Pat!" He yelled over the noise of the four cylinders firing off. "We need a quart of oil!"

Pat dropped his cheap no-name towels into his bucket and knocked on the window before him.

Captain Crane came over to the window and opened it, [Suggested violence] knocking Pat off the scaffold. Pat landed on the engine housing and quickly scampered back up to the scaffold.

"You are suppose to duck." Lee Crane warned the sailor.

"I forgot, Sir." Patterson stammered out as he held a rag up to his [Gratuitous Violence] bleeding eye. "We need a quart of oil."

Admiral Nelson walked over to the window, stuffing a [Suggestive scene] lacy green bra into his pocket.

The movement caught Captain Crane's attention, "That's not briefs! He accused.

Nelson looked over at his Captain, "I'm done with the briefs. I needed more

[Suggestive Adult Situations] supportive material for the research that I was doing."

"... oh ..." the Captain answered. "Can I help?"

"Oh, no, Lee. You are handling the oil, remember?" the Admiral answered. He looked over the window, carefully. "Maybe the next time the windows should open inside." he mused out loud.

"Chip, we need a quart of oil." Lee barked out, turning momentarily into a werewolf and then back into the Captain.

"Forward to the control room with a quart of oil." Chip yelled into the mike.

Sparks picked up his mike, "Forward to the Control Room with a quart of oil."

Sparks and Chip looked at one another for a minute or two and then realized that Patterson, who usually runs up their requests from the missile room, was the one outside requesting it.

"Oh, [Incredibly foul adult language] *#%@." Chip remarked then turned to Ski. "Ski.....?"

{Adult hand signals and Adult Language] Ski slid off his seat and opened the cabinet down at the floor by his seat, rifling through it before pulling out a new quart of Quaker State and tossing it to Chip, who tossed it to the Captain, who dropped it on the floor. Oil spurted out from several ruptures in the bottle before Ski found another quart and walked it up to the window and handed it to Patterson himself.

"Thanks, Ski!" the Captain remarked turning from the window and stepping into the spilling oil [Gratuitous Violence] skidded into the base of the plotting table, spraining three fingers of his left hand before coming to a stop.

Chip, observing the Captain, rushed over to the fallen man and dropped to one knee, spreading his arms and yelling "Safe".

"You [Adult language] *&^*&%^$##! We are not playing baseball!" Lee hissed out as he struggled to get up.

"But, Lee, that was a perfect slide!" Chip grabbed his left hand and pulled him up off the floor.

"Owie!" Captain Crane complained, pulling his hand away from Chip as he grabbed hold of the plotting table.

Chip grabbed up his clipboard and Magic Marker and started out of the Control Room.

"Mr. Morton, where are you going?" Lee demanded.

"Mr. Morton. Where are you going?" Chip repeated then stopped, realizing that he wasn't repeating an order. "...Ah, I wasn't suppose to repeat that was I?" he asked.

"No, you were suppose to answer that one." Crane answered, shaking his left hand and blowing on his fingers, not really a medical procedure--but if it worked?

"I'm going to check the window." Chip announced, saluting the Captain with the Magic Marker.

"No, you are not!" Lee and Ski chorused together.

Chip looked over at Ski then addressed the Captain, "Can he tell me 'no'?"

"He has my permission to tell you 'no'." Lee answered. "Plot us a course!"

"Oh, goodie, I get to plot a course, I get to plot a course....." Chip sang as he rushed back to the plotting table.

Ski merely looked at the Skipper and rolled his eyes. [Adult language] "Oh, #^**@".

Chip returned to the plotting table and picked up his pen and started writing on several sheets of paper that were scattered on the table. Lee watched carefully and then stepped over to the table.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Doing the plot." Chip answered. Picking up the papers he intoned in a very serious manner, "It was a dark and stormy night..."

"That's writing a plot," Lee pointed out.

Chip frowned indignantly. "That's what you told me to do."

"No," Lee sighed. "I said to plot a course.....that's a verb! Plot! Plot! Plot!" he screamed at his Executive Officer. He indicated toward Ski with his left hand, "He has the plot. Someone else has done the plot.....you are to do the plotting."

Chip looked at the Captain, who was pretty red-faced from screaming. "Well, it's your fault that I was confused. Plotting has a 'ing' ending and I know what to do when you use the word 'plotting' but you didn't use the word 'plotting', did you? Oh, no, you used the word 'plot' only."

By this time the Captain was leaning on the plotting table holding his head in his hands. He slowly raised his head and looked over at Chip Morton, "Chip, do the plotting!!! Do I make myself clear this time?"

"Of course, see how simple that was?" Chip commented as he moved back to the plotting table and opened the drawer removing a mechanical pencil, two more Magic Markers, a sextant, slide ruler, ruler, abacus, and several other instruments that the Captain did not recognize. He began scribbling furiously on the charts.

Lee walked up to the plotting table and looked over the collection of stuff laying on the charts. "What is all this?" he asked.

Chip looked up smiling, "I don't know...but when the camera pans on me and the plotting table, it really looks good...you only have a pencil so it ends up on the cutting room floor." He picked up a little corncob shaped pick for holding corn-on-the-cob and using it to twist back and forth, measuring some distance from one point to another...he held the pick up to the ruler and muttered a few words and furled his brow...."You have to look like you're doing something..."

"And I'm not?" Lee asked as pieces of film strips fell about him.

Chip stopped what he was doing and looked at the floor that was now littered with pieces of film, "See!!?? That was your part."

"But I'm the Captain...." Lee protested.

Chip opened the drawer again and pulled out about 20 sheets of paper stapled together. Flipping through several pages, "Let's see...page 12, paragraph..."

Lee snatched the papers away. "What is this?"

"My contract!" Chip answered, snatching it back.

"But mine is only a half page..."

"Yeah, but they can't kill you off," Chip countered.

Ski got up from his seat and walked over to where the two men were arguing. He snatched the contract from Chip. "Let me have that so we can get this story back on track." He signaled to someone off camera.... "Go to commercial, so we can get this mess cleaned up and back to the story line. He consulted the script. "We are nearly 30 minutes behind. We always get behind when you two start acting this way."

[scene change]

 Ten minutes of incredibly boring commercials on jock itch, women's personal hygiene products, baby diapers, how to grow hair, how to remove hair, diet aids and a Baskin Robbins Ice Cream promo.

[scene change]

All the men in the Control Room are finishing up their Baskin Robbins ice cream cones. Chip has finished eating his cone then turns to Captain Crane, who is watching the ocean churn off the newly cleaned windows of the Seaview.

"Well, we are moving along at a nice rate of 90 knots and will be at the Happy Clams Bedding Grounds by tonight."

Lee turns from the window, stunned. "90 knots?! We can't do 90 knots!"

"We can't?" Chip asks. "BUT I CHECKED MY FIGURES TWICE!" He picked up the slide ruler and began to work with it, sliding the piece back and forth and flipping it over, then turning it from side to side.

[Adult language] "(*^&%$#%$$. What are you doing?"

"Checking our speed." Chip answered.

Lee walked over to the plotting table and picked up the mike, clicking it furiously. "Admiral? Admiral, are you there?" A very un-Admiral-like giggle comes over the loud speaker. "Admiral?"

There is a sound of coughing, before the Admiral answers the summons, "Yes, Lee?"

"Sir, can we do 90 knots....?"

"Well, I'm working on achieving that speed now...but no, the sub can't do that speed."

[scene change]

The Admiral's arm is visible reaching from the bunk and tossing the mike on the desk. There is another very un-Admiral-like giggle coming from the bunk. [Adult situation] You have ten minutes to imagine what is happening in the Admiral's bunk at this time. All items in the office are available in working with this scenario. Please begin now.....

[scene change)

"But I took the overall length of the Seaview and divided it by the number of windows that we have aboard. Take that figure and square it by the number of working heads and subtract the number of feet where the men are standing in line to get into the working heads. I divided that figure by the salt shakers we have on board, minus your paycheck for the last year."

"My paycheck....how do you know what my paycheck is?.......Wait a minute...that's in your contract too!" Lee sighed.

"....then I divided that figure by the number of men that we pretend we have aboard...not the number that there actually is and I came out with 90."

He pointed to a number '90' on the slide ruler. Chip started to lay the slide ruler down on the plotting table then realized that his tie was caught in the slide. He opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors and cut off the tie, right above where it was tangled. He pulled out the material from the slide ruler and added it to the growing pile in the drawer.

"Happen often?" Lee asked. "Where did the drawer come from?"

"Ski gets the cabinet and the shelf, I get a drawer." Chip explained. "Wait until you see what Sharkey got!"

"So we are doing 90 knots?"

"That's what the slide ruler says." Chip answered. He held the slide ruler up to Lee's ear and he heard the ruler whisper a very faint...90 knots. Chip shrugged.

"How many cups of coffee did you have this morning?"

"Two," Chip answered.

"Divide the 90 by two cups of coffee and then subtract the 5 pounds that I lost last week."

Chip worked with the slide ruler, then listened quietly for a few seconds, "It says 40 knots, Sir."

"Good! Let's go with that!"

Suddenly Sparks yelled from the radio shack, "Sir, I have something."

The two officers rushed to Sparks' side.

"What do you have?" Lee asked him.

Sparks was examining his left index finger, "Actually, I have a splinter and I think that it's getting infected," he complained, "but there is a noise on the radio."

"Call Sick Bay to the Control Room!" the Captain shouted to Ski.

"Call Sick Bay to the Control Room!" Chip yelled out.

[Adult language] "&*&^$##^&*. I heard the Captain, Sir." Ski answered.

Sparks turned on the radio and piped the sound into the loud speakers. The voices grew very hushed as the sound filtered through the sub.....

(song) It's our happy bivalves you hear

Singing loud and singing clear

And it's all because you're near

Oh, Sea---view!

As you sail on our way----

Make it here within a day

And in our bivalves you'll stay

Oh, Sea---view!

(music fades away in the radio as the image fades away in the Control Room.)