Crabbage Snatch Open - Das Buut

Das Buut von den Luhrkers

Unt rickme 4-Apr-2002

Hauptmann Tommi Halbacher, Cummander of das Unterseebuut, "die Luhrkers": ACHTUNG! ACHTUNG! ACHTUNG! Rig ze buut vor zilent running. Ve haf eine Target im meine periscope! Achso, vat vas I zinking? You are alvays zilent. After all, you are ze crew ov die Luhrkers! Sehr gut!

Herr Field Marshall Gummel: Ooooh, how exziting! I vas jez expecting eine peaceful cruise von Rotterdam zum North Afrika mit ein large vessel impacted mit hoondreds und hoondreds ov sweaty zeemen. But zis ist ausgeseichnetes(*)!!!! Vas kind ov Target do ve haf, Hauptmann Halbacher?

HTH: Javohl(**), es ist quite ztrange. I zink es ist eine wooden zailinge ship, ze S.S.'Natch. Herr Unterleutnant Timpsonniger, vat you can do to get ze crew to load ze aft tubes?

UT: mulph gllgllg mmuflfgl ullg ullg mmghpht luggg...

HTH: Ja, zat might vork, but you won't haf time to blow ze whole crew! Jez do genug (***) ov ze men zat you need to load ze tubes, nein?

UT: gllgll mulgmmm mmmm slumph...

FMG: Vat did Unterleutnant Timpsonniger zay?

HTH: Herr Field Marshall, he vas asking if your uniform, mit ze fishnet ztockings und ze spiky heels is so practical in ze desert zands?

FMG: Ach, ja! Meine men vill do anyzing vor mich!

Meister Tubeschtuffer Voightlicher: Entschuldigen sie mir(****), bitte(*****), Herr Hauptmann, ze tubes are vully stuffed. Call out ze headings, unt ve vill launch ze torpedos auf your signal.

HTH: Javohl. Unt degree zum right. Unt more. Unt more. UntUntUntUntUntUntUntUnt. Ach, zu much. Tunt degrees zum left, TuntTuntTuntTuntTuntTuntTuntTunt. Scheiss. UntUntUntUntUntUnt. TuntTuntTuntTuntTunt. UntUntUnt. Verdammt, zis is zo much Aggrivation!!!! TuntTuntTunt. UntUntUnt. Moment... Moment.... Aber ja! Ve haf him! FEUER!!! FEUER!!!



to be continued
{Editor's note: we assume he meant cuntinued}

(*) excellent
(**) you betcha. pronounced "ya-vole"
(***) enough. pronounced like he was gagging on a throatfull of cum
(****) pardon me

(*****) you look nice in that color, can I blow you?


Meanwhile aboard the Japanese mini-sub Fukahomo...

Rear Admirer Snoid: Lig fol sirent lunning.

Head Seamen Boikzawanka: Sil! We arways ale sirent. Why srightest bulst flom aft wourd not arrow us to rulk.

RAS: Learry! We must not expose oulserves to bantelels. Laise Fukahomo to peliscope depth. We sharr plobe website at Lemembel, rulk onry...reave no tlair.

HSB: Brow barrast! Brow....brow...brow!

Cabin Geisha Thibley: Theltainry, thil! Thrulp! Thrulp!!!!


And then..... Flinging himself onto the heaving mass, he lay still and silent...Each breath was as his own, butt, he could scarcely contain his excitement, for he knew the moment of surprise was behind him, as was most most of the crew during this leg of the journey. Alas, the huge organ began to quiver and shake, uncontrollably so, for the each of the crewmen's apendages were busy at work; stroking and soothing the emense beasty. Scarcely a man could look it square, knowing that at any moment, it could eat them whole, with it's scraggly bush top and wide, full, glistening steamy center and swollen muscular sides; appropriately shaven, of course. They all came to know it well, except Thibley who insisted on bringing up the rear...

to be continued...
{Editor's note: we assume he meant cuntinued}


Bobbing and weaving atop the foamy swells, our hearties prepare to do battle with an unseen and unheard, sneaking, sliming enemy, the ruthless Unterzeebuuts, die Luhrkers and the Fukahomo....

MS: Arggh, them boats thar go down as willin' as Dutch cheesemakers. Ready a broadside o' twelve-pounders, Naviglator Rhagg!

NR: But, Sar, they be iron boats. Even ifn we hit 'em across their chins, our balls'd jez bounce off.

MS: Well, ye've ne'er complained 'bout balls bouncin' offn yer chin afore! We've best t' reakon a way to deal w' 'em. Quiet boats creeps me out fierce. Makes me butt t' pucker.

NR: Sar, they seems t' look through that pipe thar, 'n blow through that oother pipe thar.

MS: Hmmmm. Methinks 'tisn't time fer nothin' t' bounce offn 'em. We needs something whats cun stick to 'em.

NR: Do ye mean that we'll blind 'em 'n gag 'em?

MS: Aye. Get yeoman Floodman t' blow those two new puling, chancreous, misbegotten midshipmen up t' th' poop.

NR: Ye mean the two whats M. Parshall DuBoys stuck us with?

MS: Aye, bring Bennis 'n Brundthead aft. We've a need fer their special talents 'bout now.

tuwwheeet tueet tuuuuweeeet

Mdshpm'n Brundthead: Uh. Beannis. Heh heh heh. I think they're blowing that whistle for us.

Mdshpm'n Bennis: Yeah. Blow. yeah yeah. Blow.

Brundthead: Maybe they're pissed. You've been whacking off into that cannon ever since we left that dick, M. Parshall.

Bennis: Whack. yeah yeah. Whack. heh heh heh. Whack.

MS: Arggh, there ye be, lads. Jerkin' yer grunnions again are ye?

Brundthead: Uh. Yeah. It's mostly Bennis, though.

Bennis: Whack. yeah yeah. Whack.

MS: Arghh. Well, pack ye a wad inta' one o' the eight-pounders 'n fill 'er up w' yer milt boys. Thar be a souverain t' the lad whats got the gummiest load o' spew.

Brundthead: Uh. He said wad.

MS: Lemme know when ye've one whats brimming w' cum 'n ready t' fire.

Brundthead: Uh. These two here are already, uh, filled up. eh heh heh heh They're ready to fire.

Bennis: Yeah. Fire. Fire. yeah yeah. Fire.

to be cuntinued....


Aboard the Japanese Mini-sub Fukahomo...

Head Seaman Boikzawanka: We have successfurry infirtlated Clabbage Snatch Mainflame.

Rear Admirer Snoid: Ah, peluse thlough fires and rocate bantelels. They lefuse oul soritude...sclewum.

Cabin Geisha Thibley: Yeth, thil...gradry!

RAS: Hord on Cabin Geisha. We ale hele to send most impoltant message. Now leray!

CGT: Oh thil, I thought you wourd nevel athk.

RAS: No you dort, leray message!

CGT: Unt bro!

HSB: A'rr do it. " Deal Snatch Blethelen, this is Leal Admilel Snoid and Head Seaman Boikzawanka...

CGT: Thay me, thay me!

HSB: Oh, ...and Cabin Geisha Thibrey. We learry tile of lepeated laggings. We rook upon webpage and mouln ross of civirity. Why, what dliver is Bennel Bowr ol Wide Wolrd Of Sprults.

RAS: The Gay Calorth wele tholt of thwerr.

HSB: Tlue.

RAS: But rowry Clabmas Calor...

CGT: Thnoid's Coron I learry rove!

RAS: That goes without saying.

HSB: Yeah, they did wlite about you, sil.

RAS: Oh,'le light! We ale dodirrs!

PTDD: That's my rine!

RAS: Who the herr? Is is Obi Wan Canbrowme?

PTDD: It is I Phirr...Totar dodirr deruxe. Reave my loom, you rulkels, ol I'rr give you youl comuppance.

CGT: Thwerr! I arwayth knew you wele thomething thpethiar!


Mr. Dunson: It's awful quiet tonight, Cooky.

Cooky: Yeah, sure 'tis, Mr. Dunson. S'too quiet, I says.

MD: Wall, go on over behind the buckboard yonder, 'n check on some of the men.

Cooky: Holy shits, Dukie, theys here, but theys jez lollin' around all slackmouth. What'd ye do to 'em, boss?

MD: I dunno. Ya'd think these pansies'd never seen the diseased lining of another cowpoke's asshole before!

Cooky: Lemme try reachin around 'n grabbin a coupla their thingys...


Nope, they ain'ts respondin', Dukie. Ya mightsta gones too far this time!

MD: Wall, I'm not gonna waste my time moanin' about it, Cooky. Why'dn'tya help me lash up some of their saggin' jowls with yer kerchief, 'n we cun load 'em up with jizzum before they come to. It'll be jez likes when we cleaned up after them floods hit Wichita in '89.

Cooky: I'll hold one of they heads here, fer ya. But be gentle on 'em, Dukie, they's catatonic, but theys mights be lurkin' jez below they's consciousness.

MD: Wall, if they are, then they'll be adreamin' of a cattle drive down the backs of their throats.

Cooky: Yer a cruel man, Dukie, yer a cruel man.


Hauptmann Tommi Halbacher, Cummander of das Unterseebuut, "die Luhrkers": hav successfully sailed up ze Red River...Unt Ya! It vash tuff to pull Meister Tubeschtuffer Voightlicher off of ze men in ze cabaret show in New Orleans, vasht it not?

Meister Tubeschtuffer Voightlicher: My ees broken...unt das colon toont!

Rear Admirer Snoid: You lang?

HTH: Nein! Not zat colon! Maintain ze radio silence on ze Fukahomo!

RAS: Unt Bro!

Cabin Geisha Thibley: Thiltainry...thrulp. thwarrow, thrulp, thwarrow..

HTH: Now ve rise to ze pariscope depth. Ahh...I see ze men are laying around.

Herr Field Marshall Gummel: Vats so odd about zat? Ve are alvays doing zat.

HTH: Yes but, unlike mein crewenzehaben*, zey aren't touching each ozer. It as if zey got Gaigurleeitis**

HFMG: I do see a lone sentry and he seems to be grabbing zeir zingees.

HTH: Ahh ze voyeur in me loves to vatch. Ach! I love being a Luhrker.


**The same thing that forces Evan to sleep so much at The Snatch.

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