One "Bell" of a Day

I apologize for my extended absence. Sometimes the sea surprises even me-- who am I kidding, it surprises, terrifies, and molests me EACH AND EVERY DAY. It confounds me and astounds me. The sea BLOWS ME AWAY.

To recap:
In a "splash" of action (and a fair splash of REaction), my travels took a turn-- to the extreme. Soon I was en-route to the salty taste of adventure not seen in DAYS. The creature dashed hither and thither well beyond the agility of my craft, but as my wife likes to say (though never in this particular context), "The shortest distance between two points is a straight line* ". The homing device provided one said point, and I the other. The ferocious beast could not shake the achievements of SCIENCE (Math is "umbrellaed" here). Catching up to the sea monster was just a matter of time, encountering it once provoked is another situation ENTIRELY. The stakes were high, or should I say DEEP-- the leviathan had chosen its place of rest directly beneath the Nation of Sealand!

Unfortunately I was caught with my proverbial international pants down-- I neglected to pack my Sealand passport. Knowing the nation to be particularly hostile to uninvited guests, I was reluctant to attempt board (Fortunately their relatively primitive border surveillance fails to observe the happenings BENEATH THE SURFACE OF THE SEA-- unlike SOME people I know!). I had no choice but to confront what lay beneath, or turn back and begin my sea current analysis afresh (a-salt? Nevermind).

Retreat? Randy? Retreat on science? Adventure? I say nay, nay indeed!

I lowered myself in my diving bell of particular design (It houses such luxuries as-- a lever for controlling descent from inside the bell!) I like to keep things simple when I do my close observations-- the less between me and the sea, the clearer my senses will be (And before you ask, YES that means SANS swimsuit-- it's not uncommon among relevant professionals in the field. I think the idea of the swimsuit and beach culture at large is all quite ridiculous-- but I wont go into that now). I carried with myself only one item-- my most powerful weapon, the waterproof ballpoint pen. And a supply of waterproof paper (And don't think I write any scathing letters or editorials, I speak of it as a weapon of SCIENCE. Politics don't make much of a "ripple" under the sea, where the population is almost entirely uneducated-- through there are some "schools" of fish, but they don't like to "make waves"!).

Closing in on my quarry, I took a step back to look at where I was-- nude in a diving bell twenty fathoms under the western Atlantic! Never in my youth did I guess that the sirens song would so affect me. I have simply let the sea rock my career into new and uncharted territory, while all the while I have attempted to keep my head securely face-down in the water, gazing into its very SOUL.

With a lurch was I awoken from my narcotic self-reflection-- the bell had stopped its descent. My scientific eyes darted with unmatched reflex to my gauges-- they read their fullest, "100 fathoms"-- the extent of my suspension cable. An abyss! Only the surrounding micro-bacterium had the pleasure of hearing my curses.

I did the only thing I could, hold my breath and continue. Science stops for nothing, not even abysses.

Perhaps sensing my unbridled and unstoppable determination, the creature lifted its veil-- it was my own private peep show, and I was taking notes like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher-- and this one was a BEAUTY. Four eyes! Six fins! Two phalluses!

My lungs began to crumple.

Five sets of teeth! Brown complexion! Spots towards the stern!

I could take no more, and the monster seemed likewise. I escaped inside my bell moments before it lunged at me. Luckily I got the steel model, which only suffered minor tooth imprints (though "suffered" is the wrong word-- these will be invaluable for further measurements and analysis, such as determining the creature's diet). I literally kicked the lever into gear, and the bell carried me silently away. I couldn't help but shed a tear knowing that I'd probably glimpsed the creature for the last time. Sure enough, looking at the tracking radar I could see the beacon (the only one I carry-- I never miss) had spent it's last remaining battery power.

With nothing more to be done (the creature surely had found a less populated crevasse by that point) I retracted my anchor and set for open water. I now drift with more or less no "porpoise", yet engorged with a thirst for adventure. Perhaps someday I will return to my study of currents, but for now I feel my talents are better suited for limited resource deep sea observation-- otherwise known as EXTREME SCIENCE. Your "partner in crime"-- Randy

* [GEOMETRY]