Had a terrible craving last night for fried catfish and all the fixings. When I mentioned it to Chip, he looked at me as if I were crazy. After all, none of us could ever forget those giant mutated catfish or the giant octopus that wanted to bash our viewports a few years ago. 

It had been a case of a mad scientist playing   God. A good idea about feeding folks developed into his creations becoming his ‘children’ and heaven help anyone that got in the way.

Took a charge through the hull to persuade a gigantic octopus to let go of the viewports!

An experience I soon forgot as time and other missions came our way, but after last night, made me wonder,  though, what electrified catfish and calamari might  taste like.

A simple mistake. That’s what we all thought it was. A mistake that could have blown up most of the west coast.  Before the truth came out. That it wasn’t a mistake, rather a deliberate act of sabotage.

We’ve all seen those old movies about the hot line between Washington and Moscow. But this time, it was for real.  And it took Seaview and Harry to defuse the volatile situation. Seaview, to get to the coordinates of the downed satellite armed with a warhead. And Harry, to disarm the thing.

What irks me now, that it’s been over awhile, is that it’s still ‘politically incorrect’ to let anyone (outside of a few special people in Washington) know how close we came to a really big boom. And that Harry, more than anyone, is responsible for preventing it. 

It doesn’t seem to bother him, though. And says it was all a team effort. Be that as it may, you’d think he’d at least have gotten a Presidential citation.