Captain 5

"Captain 4! Noooo! Don't! Please! Noooooo! Murderer! Rapist! Vile sick human being! Heathen! Savage! ..."

The listen of curses and obscenities just went on into the night air. What was happening to Captain 4 will not get written down here, but trust me, it wasn't pretty, and no lame references or witty word play will be used when discussing the matter. There's a time to be serious, and there's a time to fuck around. Captain 4's death is a time to be serious.

Captain 4 was a man among horses. A Houyhnhnm among savages. A king among peasants. A bourgeois among proles. A commisar among the people. He wasn't well known. He didn't do it for the money or the fame. He did it because he had to. He know what it was all about (or atleast he pretended very well), and he laid it down and rocked out.

The name sounds stupid. Yes, it's ok. I know you're thinking it. I know what you've been thinking this whole entire time as I relay the chronicles of Captain 5 (who may or may not, be I). But did you ever think, that maybe you- the reader, the listener, the lover- may be the stupid one, and just may not know that much about all there is in this world? Maybe you don't know about the importance of numbers, and the importance of captains, and the importance of numbers and captains.

There are times for stories of the manliest (but not in a sexist way) motherfucker in the entire world, but this isn't one of those times. It's time to step back friends, and talk about the shit behind the shit. No more shit blizzards or shit storms or shit stains or any of that. No no. It's not time for any of that.

Captain 5 wasn't always named Captain 5. He had a name before that. He used to listen to his discman, which he put in his hoodie (it wasn't a Tool hoodie, he would've wanted you to point that out). His name will not be written. You imagine that you are the future Captain 5, if it helps you sleep in your pathetic miserable life. He had liked to read books. A lot of books actually. From the depressing futuristic stories of feminists, to the stories of failed geniuses in the black forrest, he enjoyed reading it all. He thought he was smart, although he also thought that he wasn't the best judge of his own smartness, and he probably wasn't all that smart, and regardless of this still thinking he was smart.

He lived in a western countries. One of the rich ones that had morals from a moral authority. It was a church perhaps. Or maybe it was the church. The people didn't believe in the church, and usually made fun of it, but they still went along with many of the ideas of the church, as if they were a part of human nature. Captain 5 did the same. He was a staunch agnostic.

He wanted to get a liberal arts degree, because it'd be rad, but he never got a job, and didn't want to waste money on something that wouldn't get him a job. He was very leftwing, but still cared heavily about financial security.

The dramatic shift from cliched middle class to the muthafuckin' man was a miraculous one. Like all things miraculous, it really can't be explained in a logic or rational way.

BAM!

BLOODFIST!

"Fuck this life! Fuck it all!"

"What's that [future Captain 5]?"

"I don't need this shit mom! I'm going on the road!"

"But son, I've given up my life for you! I love you son!"

(His mom was really sad)

Ok ok. So I guess reading On the Road isn't that miraculous, but it was only just the start. Usually what happens when someone read said book (and the narrator really feels the need to explain, that like with all narrations he does, he is talking out of his ass, and is not narrating for you, and that he doesn't read the reviews, and all that bullshit. so fuck off. stop reading. that's right, you're still here. you need me. LISTEN TO ME AND MY SPECULATIONS THAT COME OUT OF MY ASS.)... anyways. Usually what happens when someone reads a book such as that is that they feel the passion and energy in the safest ways so that they never have to leave their bubble. Sex, drugs and rock and roll, which is kind of a shame because they should really listen to some of the jazz greats and have lots of sex with boys and girls. Captain5 didn't have this normal reaction of playing it safe and drinking straight hard liquor while passing out on the road near the government buildings. He liked the part in the book where Jack (or whatever his fucking name was in that book) didn't eat for 3 days and walked along the train tracks. For some reason that's what sparked the intensity in who would became Captain 5.

There wasn't many trains near his house, so he had to find a bus first (if there was bus tracks, he would've followed those, but the buses go on the roads these days).

Eventually he ended up in the fabled land of Tortugal, where he heard they had trains. He was a different man at this point. For the sake of enjoyment, I'll post a few of the conversations he had throughout his journeys on getting to Tortugal. (Fuck if I'm going to actually write a fucking novel about it. As if love, betrayal and kinky sex make a good story.)


On the boat to Peru.

"Is there trains in Peru?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Damn, I really want to find some trains."

"Really? Me too! I want to walk on train tracks hungry."


In the streets of Madrid


"Donde puedo encontrar las vias de tren, quiero caminar sobre ellas y tener hambre?"

"You're a fucker loser!"


On the bullet train

"soo-.. soo-.. soomeemason?"

"ee?"

"soomeemason!"

"I can speak english, what do you want?"

"oh.. uhh.. I want to walk on train tracks."

"You're on a train right now. There's tracks below us."


In a bar in Tunisia.


"I wanna walk on train tracks. Where are they?"

"I got some back in my room which we can walk on together, if you know what I mean."

"Can we get hungry too?"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah. Come with me."

"Great!"


But anyways, he found himself in Tortugal. He was on the streets. He was young. He had found train tracks. He was walking on them. It had been 2 days. He had to do it for one more day to fulfill his spontanious dream.

But then, he saw a man out of the corner of his eye fighting a fucking huge behemoth. It was horrible. All the man was saying was,

"I'm Captain 4 motherfucker! Captain 4's gonna fuck you up!"

It was such vulgarity. It was horrible! The boy that would soon be a man named Captain 5 didn't know what to think. But he was amazed.

Captain 4 saw him. He said, "you there! Liberal arts middle class guilt ridden hungry delusional Kerouac liking mother fucker! Drink the rum! It'll fix your brains up! Drink the rum! The rum is magical! The rum is amazing! The rum! THE RUM!"

The boy was confused. Rum? He's had rum before. He went to pirate parties and jumped in the pool with his clothes in many times. It was always a good laugh. That was Captain Morgans. It was funny because it was a pirate on the bottle. "You and the Captain make it happen!" They were so funny back then. Anyways, this was different. This rum didn't have a label on it, and was in a green bottle with three X's etched into it. The boy knew that if he didn't drink the green bottle, Captain 4 would die from the behemoth. So he cluthced the bottle, and drank hearty swigs of grandeur.

As he drank the rum, he couldn't stop, and he knew as he drank the rum, he would take too long to finish it all and that Captain 4 would die. He couldn't look away from Captain 4. It was horrible. The things the behemoth were doing to Captain 4 were dispicable. The boy didn't have time to think. He couldn't think about why was he called Captain 4, or anything like that. He just knew that that was fucking great rum, and being a fucking Kerouac poser was fucking stupid, and it was time to really feel passion and intensity.

Captain 5 danced in the face of death.

When the trance ended, he looked in horror. He said:

"Captain 4! Noooo! Don't! Please! Noooooo! Murderer! Rapist! Vile sick human being! Heathen! Savage! ..."

Captain 4 and the very soon to be Captain 5 locked glances. They gazed deep into eachother's eyes, and it all made sense. They didn't need words. They didn't need love. They didn't need anything. They were super rad.

He knew he would have to become Captain 5. He knew what it meant. Not through words or through logic, but through passion. It didn't matter what the number meant, or what any of it meant. It was time to shed his former skin, which he emerged from so wide eyed, and for his goo of personality to fit into the new mold of the new person. The new raddest motherfucker you ever met: Captain5.

Captain 4 (God rest his soul) had died, and the behemoth was still there. Captain 5 knew in his heart what he had to do. He ran like a motherfucker. He ran fast and hard. He ran tall and wide. He ran and he ran until he reached a villiage, where he informed the authorities that a behemoth was on the go. Animal control was called, and the behemoth was put to sleep.

Captain 5 didn't know what to do. But his heart felt full. He felt rad. He was a new man, and he was kicking it around the ports in Tortugal. He had no idea what adventures lay ahead of them, but he knew they'd be fucking rad, because if a person is fucking rad, then radness follows them, and if the person thinks they are fucking rad, but really are fucking lame and annoying, then the radness will never follow.

Captain 5. May you live.