my comments are in red
-Chris


Mary Nell
Creative Writing
Sea Story #1


It was summer, the end of June 2004 to be a little more exact. PROTRAMID Block One Charlie Company was about to end their four week tour which began in San Diego and ended with a week of boredom at the good old USNA. This last week of ACTRAMID was a period of improvement for not only our speaking skills. It served as a time to reflect over the activities of the past three weeks, and to work off the beer bellies and inches of flab we had encumbered while socializing in one of the best parts of California.

So when my friend, Chris Hoover, sent me an instant message the other day saying, "you owe me five miles", I knew exactly what he was talking about. I simply replied, "I know what you did last summer." Suddenly, I was reminded of that early morning so many months ago when the massiveness of a five foot seven, 154 pound, Chris Hoover traipsed into my 5-2 room. The alarm clocks set for 5:45 had long since endured three evolutions of the snooze button when Chris Hoover arrived. Adrian Maeser and I had agreed the night before that we would get our fat butts out of bed and run an outer with him. Upon seeing our drooling, gnarly-haired visages, he took one hand, right then left, to each one of our bed sheets, and pulled with all his might as we held on for dear life. After we had died of laughter and got tired of moaning about our lack of sleep, he had succeeded in ridding us of our upper coverings. meaning upper bed linens, NOT CLOTHES Now we were left with the mattress, and a single bed sheet and were still completely clothed . To our udder amazement, this tiny man I'm not that tiny reached for the mattress of my comrade, while I lied cocooned up in my last resort for warmth, the white issued fitted sheet belonging to my mattress. When Adrian lay bare she did still have clothes on though on the wood of the coffin in which the mattress should have been, with all her earthly comforts on the floor, still fully clothed Chris came for me. There I was, no sheets, no mattress, no dignity, no hope left for finishing off another hour of sleep before our next public speaking brief. Shrieking in rage and painful laughter, Adrian and I refused him of that faithfully promised jog around the Naval Academy Yard, and it haunts us still today...

they've both agreed to run 5 miles with me this spring.