Friends, countrymen, Hornies, allow me to take a brief sabbatical from news of the hornblowing world to relate a tale of danger and derring-do that your humble Hornblogger survived just this past week. Perhaps you will find, as I did, the parellels between myself and our hero Hornblower to be quite striking...
My adventure began I was traveling aboard the Crab (that's my trusty Suburu Outback, lest you have forgotten!). I was on most urgent business, delivering three pizzas and an order of buffalo kickers to a house on the other side of town. I had made a detour to my local video store to procure a copy of the newly released DVD edition of Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, and was therefore running late. My commanding officer, an ill-humored 19-year-old named Phil, had already given me a formal reprimand for tardiness. One more customer complaint, and I should suffer the humiliation of having my buttons stripped in front of the entire crew of the good ship Domino!
I was thus making swift headway upon my route when I heard a loud pop from my aft starboard tire. My vessel swerved wildly to starboard, as if ensnared by the turbulent waters of the Maelstrom itself! It was only with the greatest dexterity and helmsmanship that I was able to anchor safely on the side of the road. I had made a narrow escape from the murky oblivion of Davey Jones, at least for the time being! I called the local AAA and awaited my rescue. One hour passed, then two. Twilight had begun to replace the fading sun, and who knew what perils awaited lonely mariners on that desolate interstate! Fortunately, I had three pizzas and a carton of delicious buffalo kickers to sustain myself through those dark hours.
At last, my reinforcements arrived! All was well...or so I thought. My would-be savior turned out to be a most insubordinate young whelp. He gave his name as "John," though such vagabonds often travel under assumed names. He approached his task with the laziness of a French courtesan during the feast of St. Pascal. Were this the mighty Indefatigable, and were I the brave Captain Hornblower, I would have given this layabout 10 stern lashes upon the fo'c'sle, by God! As it was, I contented myself by unleashing a silent torrent of mental criticism regarding his slow pace, slovenly appearance, and snide demeanor.
At long last, "John" finished his work and I was free to make homeward passage. As I maneuvered my vessel onto the highway, I heard a strange, metallic noise. A few seconds later, the starboard side of my vehicle burst into a calamitous uproar of screeching metal! The oaf had failed to tighten the lug nuts, and my wheel had disappeared into the night! For a second time, I desperately swung my ship a-starboard and skidded onto the median. How few seamen are blessed to escape a watery grave twice in one day!
Once again I was marooned along the lonesome highway. I regretted mightily my decision to consume all three pizzas and the entire box of buffalo kickers earlier that afternoon! I passed an hour in hunger and solitude, not knowing what fate the cruel seas held in store for me! Like Hornblower imprisoned in Ferrol, I whiled away the time by agonizing over the mistakes that had led me to this impasse. After that long and dreary hour, I was finally rescued by my ladylove on her way back from her anime voiceover translation class. Though shaken by the events of the day, and though I would most likely lose my commission as Assistant Manager, I was thankful to return safely to my home port.
Not even on his most perilous voyage to the Indies did valiant Hornblower face such danger twice, and live to tell the tale!