Chip & Dip

By Carol aka Catfish Foss

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, rolling my eyes heavenward in the Control Room. Of all the stupid mega market conglomerate ideas. I didn’t need this right now.

“It’s not like we’re on an important mission, Lee, “ Chip Morton persisted, “ why not? After all….”

“After all, we’ll be cleaning up all over the place! What if the equipment is damaged? What if someone slips, what if….”

“I don’t think a little residue on your polished deck or a few finger-smudges of grease on your precious Seaview would be a disaster. If it makes you feel better, think of it as a kind of celebration. ”

“Celebration?”

“Yeah. For me. Get it, Chip and Dip?”

“I think I have enough elementary education to figure that out Mister,” I glared, “and I’ve never heard of this so called holiday. Probably invented by the potato chip companies and canned dip makers.”

“Brrr. It’s a culinary holiday. March 23^rd this year. So, Skipper,” my ever diligent XO continued, and right to the point, “Cookie wants you to choose which dips the entrants can fix, so he can determine if we have the ingredients from what we have in stores. The crew favorites so far are Guacamole, Sour Cream, French onion, Cheddar cheese…”

“And just who told them about this so called National Chip and Dip Day anyway?”

“You wound me to the heart, Lee. It was an NIMR interoffice memo that came through as an FYI to you and I yesterday. I’m Surprised you haven’t looked at it yet.”

“You know damn well I leave the FYI memos to you to determine if they’re worth my time while we’re at sea. Why did you wait until today to spring this on me, or need I ask?” I tried my best ‘I’m the captain so I can demand you tell me look’ to no avail.

“Look, Lee. Back at the Institute they’re even making it a contest. The Admiral’s one of the judges for the best homemade dip and the Cafeteria manager will judge the homemade kinds of chips. So I don’t think he’d begrudge us the same opportunity for some of our crewmen to demonstrate their culinary flair, including Cookie.”

“Well, Nelson doesn’t have to put up with greasy periscope handles or a slippery deck if an oil filled kettle sloshes over,” I pouted.

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion, Lee. Besides, we have plenty chips in stores so I really doubt anyone will want to make them from scratch, except maybe Cookie. ”
“Of course I’m blowing things out of proportion Chip. Part of my job description to see the worst case scenario. Not a good idea, this holiday, Mister Morton.”

“C’mon, Lee, the men are counting on it. They’ve been so bored… besides… the chips don’t have to be potato chips.”

“They don’t?”

“Lee, Lee, Lee. Think tortilla chips, taco shells, crackers…they’re not oily.”

“Doesn’t that sort of take away from the ‘Chip’ aspect?”

“No really. Why in some countries Potato Chips are called Potato crisps. Think about that.”

“I still don’t want my crew traipsing to duty with whatever’s left on their fingers after indulging in a munch marathon! Remember the Cheetos*?”

“O’Brien’s party wasn’t aboard Seaview.”

“The inspection reports he turned in were covered in orange.. what did Angie call all that residue. Oh yeah, Cheetles.”

“As I recall, some of your reports have made their way to Nelson’s office with traces of pepperoni and cheese on them! Think about your own ‘trailing’s, Captain.”

“I am! Which is one of the reasons I don’t want a similar situation from these stupid chips aboard my boat! I don’t care if some of these chips are the baked variety in little snack bags, they all make a mess!”

“Speaking of mess, the contest will be confined to the Crew’s Mess or any other places you approve. I’ll even post guards so each and every one partying will remove any such residue from their hands before returning to duty.”

“You will, huh?”

“Scout’s honor. Now, will that satisfy you Skipper? We’ve got to hurry if this contest will get started on time. ”

“We?”

“Well, while you go check the stores with Cookie after you check out the entrants, I need to get out the party supplies…think of some prizes for the winners…”

“And just who will determine the winner?”

“Why, I thought I made it clear, Lee. You.”

“Me?” I asked, a bit surprised, “ I’m not the resident gourmet…did Doc put you up to this? You know, the ‘got to feed him something to make him gain weight’ lecture?”

“Honest Abe* was a relative of one of my great great grand uncles.”
“Humph! You know something Mr. Morton? You could sweet talk a Girl Scout out of her last batch of cookies without paying for them…”

“Then you’ll do it?”

“Doesn’t seem as if I have much of a choice.”

“I knew I could count on you. Now, I have an idea for a dip too. How about a ‘s’more’s dip…”

And so after having been surrounded, and sated, by mounds of chips and dips in the Crew’s Mess, the Wardroom, the Crew’s Quarters, I headed topside .The party was going on up there once we surfaced as well.

As promised, Chip had assigned a guard with cleansing wipes at the hatch there as well. No, I needn’t have worried. That is, until I heard ‘Man Overboard!”

“I’m sorry Lee,” Chip said, dripping on the deck after the men had helped hoist him back aboard. “I must’ve slipped. You’re right…it was a bad idea… a little grease from Cookie’s old fashioned chips must’ve gotten past the napkins…”

“Excuse me, Skipper?” Kowalski approached, “it was my fault…just when we’d surfaced, the hatch was a bit stuck…so I sprayed some WD 40* on it, must have gotten some on the deck…”

“Not your fault, Ski, go on back to the party,” I ordered, then turned to Chip, crossed my arms, leaned back against the sail and winked, “Now, that’s what I call Chip and Dip Day!”

*Cheetos: Popular cheese flavored snack

*Honest Abe: President Abraham Lincoln

*WD 40:Multi-purpose lubricant