(It is obvious to the reader that the winter came in and we found our luckless crew frozen to main street in Winnipeg, Canada waiting for the first thaw to take place so that they could continue their search for the Bedding Grounds of the Happy Clams.

During this time Admiral Nelson has put on 30 pounds from having daily deliveries from the deli off Main Street. The [possible adult situation] giggling in his cabin continues! Chip Morton's magic markers have all run dry and he is resorting to a supply of china markers that he found in a cupboard somewhere. His ties have all been trimmed. Captain Crane is sporting an assortment of Band-Aids and bandages, as he and ice do not get along well. Seaman Kowalski has rewritten the script giving himself a pay raise and a promotion to Admiral of the fleet. IA is having a fit over that one, folks!

We now continue with our little story, which is guaranteed to offend everybody!

Enjoy!!)
 
 

Seaman Patterson slammed the front viewing port shut as he stepped back inside of the hood of the Seaview with his can of de-icer.

"It's clear, Skipper!"

"You want me to check that?" Chip piped up, snatching up a China marker. He was anxious for some sort of action. He had sharpened all the pencils, refilled the pens and re-stacked his collection of tie pieces in the plotting table drawer.

[Violent language] "&^*$%@#^^." Captain Crane answered as he moved to the front of the sub to inspect the newly de-iced window. Slipping, he slid directly toward the glass port stopping inches from the front of it. "Wanted to inspect it!" he blurted out.

"Yeah, sure..." Kowalski intoned. He paused when he heard someone coming down the circular staircase.

Admiral Nelson entered the Control Room with a sliced ham sandwich on rye in one hand and a dill pickle in the other one. "Mr. Morton, are you finished with my [gross advertisement] AT&T card?"

"Yes, Sir. AT&T was able to supply me with the address of the Bedding Grounds of the Happy Clams."

With that statement the Happy Clams began singing through the loud speakers,

"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!"

A silent tear slid down the Captain's cheek as he listened to the squeaky voices singing together. One of the voices belonged to Patterson!

"Catchy song." Patterson explained when he noted the Captain looking at him rather hard.

Admiral Nelson listened to the singing for a minute, wondering if he could open the group in Las Vegas before addressing the Captain. "Are we on our way there?"

Suddenly there was a knock at the ladder leading up to the Coning Tower. "Get the door, would you Lee?"

Captain Crane walked over to the ladder as a young man jumped down into the sub. "Your delivery, Sir!" The young man stated, handing over a baskets filled with deli treats and a [alcoholic beverage warning!] bottle of wine.

The Captain, notorious for his cheapness, handed the young man a quarter. "Do I get a receipt for that?"

"Well," [Adult language warning and terrible cussing!] "&^$$^&^, Chip, what are we waiting for?"

"The red light!" he answered. "I've checked the map. There are four more red lights." Chip answered holding up the map that was covered with large check marks made with assorted colors of china markers.

Admiral Nelson rolled his eyes and then turned back to Lee. "I still have some research to do ... [mildly suggestive statement] new under-garments for female divers. I need to check them out."

"Need help, sir?" Lee quickly asked.

Chip Morton started waving his China markers in the air, "I can check those, Sir!"

Admiral Nelson sighed. "No this is something that requires a [this is a lie-nothing else to it!] scientific mind."

"Yeah, sure." Kowalski answered again. He quickly pulled out his script with the new modifications penciled in. "Sorry, Captain, you don't get the girl in this one. It's the Admiral's turn ... besides he's paying better than you do!"

[Inappropriate language warning] "#^%*&^$" Captain Crane responded. "Paying what?"

"Paying me!" Kowalski answered. "I'm the new ghost writer..."with that statement Kowalski faded away then faded back into the picture! [advertisement for future stories by Kowalski] "...for the adventures that we are going to be on in the future."

[Reference to religion] "Oh, my god." Crane answered.

"Watch that!" Kowalski warned. "I can have you killed off and replaced by whomever is giggling in the Admiral's quarters. At least, we know that she has to have a sense of humor."

"Last stop light!" Chip yelled from the plotting table. "We are now in the Pacific Ocean."

"Huh? How can that be?" Crane asked. "You don't go from Winnipeg to the Pacific Ocean."

Kowalski quickly flipped through the script. "We have two options at this time, Sir. We have either time shifted, thanks to Mr. Pem [the entire crew stands and gives Mr. Pem a round of applause] or we have redrawn the map of the United States and Canada to IA's specifications [the crew rises and bows humbly to the west three times while chanting 'IA'.]

Captain Crane stands at the front of the sub, arms crossed across his chest, "I refuse to allow that as it is not Canon."

At the mention of the word "CANON" the entire crew rises and lets out a sigh of awe.

"Oh, shut up!" Crane bellows, turning red in the face. [Extra on set runs out with a pail of red paint, sloshing it across the Captain's face. He stands there dripping red paint on the deck of the sub.]

"Hear! Hear!" Chip shouts out, listening to the conversation.

"Hear what?" Patterson asks.

"Actually, it is!" Kowalski answers, pulling out the official Canon Bible from the secret compartment below his workstation. "We can write our own plots and scientific theories as we go. We just have to have the Admiral to explain them to us at the appropriate times so it becomes fact."

Chip dived into the drawer of his desk, dragging out a messy and torn notebook. He quickly searched through it, stopping as he read. "Science Fact # 53 from the Harry Nelson School of Scientific Facts Text Book: it shall be the Admiral's job to make the impossible possible by taking time to explain a theory to the crew or to Captain Crane at the appropriate time, making the ridiculous plausible."

"Why didn't I get a copy of that book?" Lee asked reaching for Chip's notebook.

"Not in your contract!" Chip warned.

[Inappropriate language warning] "@*$@%$%^*&, who agreed to my contract?"

"I did, Sir! Patterson responded. "You were being attacked by the plant monster at the time."

"That's not fair!" Crane responded, nearly jumping up and down.

"But the plant monster is CANON." Kowalski answered.

"I think that we are here..." Chip interrupted.

"You are not paid to think!" Lee yelled at him. "Just stand there and look blond."

"I can do that!"
 
 

[Scene shift]
 
 

Chief Sharkey was in the torpedo room, firing up his new gas grill that was supplied to him on page four of his contract. It was rather nice, the latest grill that went on sale at the end of the summer in 1999. Never mind the fact that it was still the early 60's on the sub.

As he fired up the grill, he noticed that they were moving over the largest clam bed that he had ever seen before...
 
 

[Scene shift]
 
 

Captain Crane stalks over to the plotting table. Pushing the assortment of China markers and dried Magic Markers to the floor, he picks up the mike and starts to yells in it. Noticing that the end of the cord is swinging free he quickly jams it into the drawer, closing the drawer on the dangling end.

"Chief, we are over the...." He pauses, not wanting to hear the singing again. "We are where we are suppose to be. Take care of things down there."

"I am." Chief answers back.

Before the Captain can continue his instruction, the loud speakers crackle and come to life with song:

[Gross visual image!]

"It's our cooking eyes you see...

And steaming little feet..."

(Fizzle! Snap! Boil! Fizzle!)

"... And it's all because you're here...

Grilling us!"

"Lee!" The Admiral's voice boomed out. "Do I smell grilled clams?" They heard him mutter under his breath, [alcoholic beverage warning!] 'Where did we put the white wine?' Someone giggled.

"Ah, Chief...?" Lee spoke over the mike. "...save me a plate."