Guh-Guh-Guh-Guh

Popeye is fucked. He puts spinach in a pipe, smokes it, and apparently it makes him strong to the finish. The last time I put "spinach" in a pipe and smoked it I wasn't even strong enough to get off the couch. I just lied there weak and confused, while I gave biblical names to each of my fingers and drooled on my sleeves.

He seems to be pretty delighted after a good spinach smoke and ususally throws out a hearty "Guh, guh, guh, guh" - son of a bitch cackle. The only thing I could muster was looking over to the other person in the room and screaming at them - "Is that you who keeps spinning this place? STOP IT...Make it stop, please make it stop. What right do you have?...I wanna get off. (Whisper) What's your name? You look like a Dandy. Is your name Dandy? Huh? Is it? Dandy. It's okay if it isn't. It's okay. Have I told you lately...that it's okay." (Isn't that what people do when they get high? Jumble Rod Stewart songs and hope their peers find it endearing. No one wants to hear the shitty lyrics you substitute for the actual ones in random songs.You can't start singing Soul II Soul - "Back to Life...Back to my strategy". It's reality, not you're strategy.)

Popeye is a wreck. He's a shitfaced sailor with anchor tats and one good eye. Spinach isn't gonna help this motherfucker in the slightest. He needs to dock the boats, hang up the sails, and get his tired ass to an infirmary because it looks like he's been sailing the seven C's: Coke, coffee, crank, crack, crystal meth, oxy Contin's and creatine.

Would anyone ever wanna be on a boat with this mess. He's rummaging through your things at five AM looking for leafy greens to ingest so that he can impress some onshore cutie pies with his beefy arms and garden hose veins.

"Guh-guh,guh, where's the spinach mate".

"Popeye get your filthy paws outta my carry on bag. I'm on fucking vacation I didn't pack any spinach. What do I look like Wolfgang Puck? Now go back to sleep before I call the coast guard. You wouldn't want them to board this rickety vessel and "accidentally take a peek" in your medicine cabinet, now would you?"

"Well, Blow...Me...Down. I stands what I can stands and I can't stands no more".

"Okay buddy, that all sounds good. (What the fuck is this hack talking about?). Get some sleep, huh? We got a big day tomorrow. I'm gonna feed you some baby spinach and we're gonna go down to the car dealership that sold me a lemon so you can smash holes in hoods...how's that for zesty?"

He's gettin' up there too, and if there's one thing I know it's that people get fucking picky in their old age when it comes to food. If anyone thinks for one second that he's still stuffing plain spinach in his gullet then they got another thing comin'.

"Popeye, Popeye, the bad guys are after us! Help!"

"Sorry kid, no strength today. Not until I go food shopping."

"What do you mean just eat some spinach, you have plenty in your cabinets."

"Listen kid, you ever heard of something called a fucking salad? You want me to save your life? Then get your ass to the grocer and pick me up some dried cranberries, candied walnuts, and a light, tangy vinaigrette. You expect me to eat these green leaves dry? Guh-Guh-Guh-Get the fuck outta my face."