Feathered and tarred in urine, Casey picked himself up off the ground and hissed at his comrades. Casey cut in line for the bathroom.
A line that on this Navy Destroyer reaches over 40 some odd men in the middle of the night, woken naturally by the need to take a piss. Cutting in line made any man an enemy in seconds flat. Selfish old Casey didn’t think about it before taking the risk. Fatigued and bit drunk he wiggled his way forward claiming “emergency!” That is precisely when Duncan spun around and gripped his hand around Casey’s throat. Casey spat in the face of Duncan and wildly kicked his legs at Duncan’s balls. Duncan pile drove Casey to the iron floor. Feverish with embarrassment and humiliation, Casey whipped it out and pissed into the air spraying at least 10 men in line. Casey received considerable bruising to his cock within minutes, and the 10 men now drenched in the urine of Casey now took their turn hosing him down. Duncan, a man of golden showers as it was, had no issue stepping into the line of fire to clamp Casey down, and force open his mouth.
Feathered and tarred in urine, Casey bi-passed any sort of formal Dishonorable Discharge by bureaucratic officials. The men he offended took to erasing his existence. In the black of night while Lieutenants and Sergeants slept and watch men buzzed on marijuana, Casey was tossed beyond the plank, over the edge into the dark depths of the Indian Ocean.
Feathered and tarred in urine Casey drowned and was never even reported missing. In the nights that followed, Duncan, in his own histrionic bellowing re-enacted the incident of Casey, to pass the time in line behind 40 some odd men making their way to relieve themselves in a trough.