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Written by Kevin Juergensen - http://www.electricfilm.com/

I called my ex-wife, to ask her if I could borrow some of the kids support payments so I could go to Fiji with McKenney and my 17 year old blonde actress girlfriend, Candy. For some reason, she got really pissed off (she s really irrational sometimes). So while she was at work, I broke into her house (well, I still have a copy of the housekey...), and had a moving company take all of her furniture to the local pawn shop (I left her the microwave so she could still heat up some Stouffers for the kids).
After collecting the $500 bucks for all of her furniture, I was off...
Turns out that $500 wasn t enough to buy the plane ticket, so I faked her signature on the Visa card that I borrowed from her to buy the tickets for me and Candy. I don t know about you, but I didn t feel like flying coach for 14 hours. First Class is the only way to go, and nothing is too good for my Candy.
After sipping champaigne and eating lobster for 14 hours, we finally arrived in Nadi, Fiji. I was a little short on clothes, and so was Candy, so I took her to Jacks for a complete wardrobe. Once again, that ol Visa came in handy.
Before I left, I had Candy call the ex's Credit Union, pretending to be her, and wire transfer the kids college fund to Bio-Marine Instruments for a pair of CCR-155 rebreathers to be shipped via Gulf Stream jet to Fiji for us to use on the trip. I had never used one of these before, but Kato told me they were really cool, and that I would look like a real diver with one on my back. Besides, McKenney had one, and he s pretty cool, so I bought em.
I met McKenney on the island of Matagi, where I booked Candy and me the honeymoon bure. This is where the first problem of the trip occurred: Nigel informed me that the Matagi Island Princess II had been booked by a group of gay Orthodontists who wanted to take millions of pictures of soft coral - one of the most boring things that god ever made, if you ask me.
Well, the last thing I wanted was a group of tooth-fairies cluttering up the boat with their neon colored wetsuits and tanks. Let em buddy-breathe in PNG I cried. Besides, McKenney said that cool divers only wear black, and that it makes you move quicker through the water if you look like a ninja.
So, I decided to buy the boat. I had borrowed some checks from my ex s employer, so I forged her signature and transferred all of their bank account to the Matagi folks offshore Cayman bank. (Hey, the ex has a good job, she ll be able to pay it off in a few years...).
Finally, we had the boat to ourselves. On the day before we set sail, McKenney and I drank lots of Kava. We decided to play some cards, and he lost badly. I wound up owning his entire film library, his house, his car, and also his slave, Bob Keet. I think he didn t mind losing the library or the car, but he was particularly pissed off about losing Keet. Why, he s the best boy I ve ever had lug my gear he cried over and over. " Too ****in bad," sez I. Although I did feel a little bit bad, since I was using a marked deck that my uncle Vito had given me.
So the next day, were on the boat. Candy spent the entire time puking up banana daquiris and *****ing about there not being any tampons in all of Fiji. (Jeez - women are sometimes more trouble than they are worth...).
McKenney agreed to set up my rebreather, since I didn t know anything about them except they looked pretty cool. We re going pretty deep on our first dive he says, so I ll set your ppO2 to 3.6 ata.
Is that where its supposed to be? I said, Sure, since we ll be at 300 fsw for most of the dive, that ll just about do it...
He had a funny look on his face, but I guess he was just feeling awkward since he now had to pay me rent to live in his house.
So we get to the dive site, a place called Champion Reef. Its out in the middle of nowhere, but they assure me that its down there. I went down to the stateroom to see if Candy wanted to dive. She said no, then puked all over my Ninja Black dive booties.
McKenney insisted that safety was a primary factor in our dive, so I geared up with all the required stuff that he said was necessary. In addition to my rebreather, I had 4 80cf bottles with the most unique manifold I 'd ever seen (all four tied together) that led to a second stage made by some company in East Germany (I think the same one that made their cars).
I had three knives strapped to my chest, and both legs.
I also carried 4 Dive-Rite square lights, signal flares, 2 SpareAirs, 2 Dive-Rite reels, 3 safety sausages, 2 redundant Dive-Alerts, 500 assorted cylume light sticks, and a Riffe 5 foot long quadrupel band speargun with a .50 cal. powerhead and 200 rounds of ammo.
I looked at McKenney (who was wearing only his rebreather and pony bottle) on the swimstep and said you sure I need all this stuff? Sure he said, "until you re used to handling emergency situations like me, a REAL diver, you need to carry this stuff. "
" O.k " sez I... I also had to put on about 65 lbs. of weights, since McKenney said that the rebreather was really positively buoyant.
Well, the moment of truth came. We were over the spot, and the captain of the boat gave us the thumbs up sign. He looked at me, and shook his head sadly as I returned the salute. I guess he was just envious of all the gear that I had.
Well, we were off...
I broke the surface of the water, and immediately began sinking faster than the Lusitania. I looked up at McKenney as I descended at 200 feet per minute.
He gave me an are you o.k? sign with his middle finger (he explained that gesture to me as only being used by tech-divers ).
I knew that something was wrong, and yet I was so touched by this simple, kind gesture of a man that I had somewhat taken advantage of, that I just couldn t burden him with my concerns. I returned the gesture as a symbol of our friendship.
As I descended further, I was startled by the sound of something exploding - it was my Dive-Rite lights, the ones that George Irvine had sold me at that garage sale. Shoot I said, I m gonna get my money back from George. Fifty cents apiece is a lot of money .
I decided that I needed to add some air to my B.C, since I had just passed the 600 fsw mark, and my ears were beginning to hurt. I pumped my b.c. to the point where I was cutting off the blood flow to my neck, but I still was dropping fast.
"Damn " I said, " I need a better BC..."
As I passed the 1000 fsw mark, things got pretty dark, but the water was full of these bright shiny objects that just floated around in front of me. I saw lots of colors too in psychedelic patterns....
I then saw the weirdest thing... I tunnel of light opened up in front of me that seemed to stretch on forever. I saw figures at the other end, and thought I heard them calling my name. A man approached, and as he got closer, I noticed that he was Orson Welles. How s Merv Griffin doing? he asked me. "How the **** should I know, Orson " I replied.
You wouldn t happen to have a pork-roast on you, would you? Orson asked me. Or a gallon of heavenly-hash ice cream? Nope, sorry Orson I said.
" Well, don t come back here until you get some!!" he thundered, like the voice of God. He then turned away, which was really gross, because he was wearing one of those hospital gowns with the backside open, and his butt looked like a hairy version of the Blob ... The tunnel of light disappeared, and I thought I heard him mumble rosebud... .
Just then, I felt this incredible banging sound on my back - turns out the bottom of one of the 80 cf. bottles had impaled itself on the sunken anchor of some Spanish Galleon that had sunk in the 1800 s, and now rested on the bottom in 2000 fsw. The impact knocked loose a chest that was on the bow of the ship, which fell onto my lap. Just as I was pondering this find, the hull of the tank gave way, and all 320 cf. of compressed air started coming out the bottom of the single tank.
Va-voom!! I rocketed up through the water column like a Trident missle. I felt a sudden SLAM! at about 350 fsw, but didn t see what I had hit.
Then all of a sudden, I breached the surface, and saw the clouds. I probably got about 50 feet of air when the tank finally was empty.
The next thing I know, I ve landed on the sun-deck of the Matagi Island Princess II....
I've got a chest full of gold on my lap, and as it turns out, a trophy-class marlin caught between the manifold of my tanks. (The gold was valued at over $300 million, and the Marlin made the Guiness Book of World Records, and got me an appearance on the Tonight Show, and a 3 picture deal at Paramount).
I removed my gear, and went below to see Candy, and tell her of my strange vision of Orson.
When I got to my cabin, there was McKenney in bed with Candy. I was quite surprised, and rather shocked. So were they...
Just before I started to get mad, though, McKenney explained to me that he got pretty narced on the dive - so much so that he started thinking he was ME. He must have been pretty convinced himself, cause he managed to make Candy believe it as well. Well, since he thought he was me, and Candy did too, I told them it was all right, and asked them if they wanted fish for dinner...
Candy was so happy to see me, that she got a little too excited, and started to throw up all over again. Poor girl... When McKenney saw the gold, he started throwing up too. I guess he really did get narced bad...
Well, anyway, I decided that McKenney was a true friend, so I told him that I was going to let him keep Bob Keet.
Besides, with the rent money he was now going to pay me, and all the gold I had found in the treasure chest, I was going to be able to hire my own help.
I decided there and then that when I got back, I would hire the ex to clean my house for me - as long as she didn t ask for more than $5.00 an hour.
On the trip back to L.A. McKenney was rather silent. I guess the beauty and majesty of the South Pacific was still with him. I know he still wonders at the mystery of the place as well, because all the way home he couldn t stop muttering "I can t ****in believe it, I can t ****in believe it! "
When we arrived in L.A. I hugged my good friend McKenney goodbye, and reminded him that the rent checks were due on the first of the month.
As we parted, he gave me the tech-diver are you o.k? sign. Once again, I returned this gesture of friendship, and headed home to my new house in Malibu... I dropped Candy off at the bus station and gave her $10 toward her ticket home, even though I really don t believe in charity...
McKenney is now planning a trip for us in the North Atlantic. He says that I ll be the first diver to reach the Titanic on air. But first, I have to take Katos deep air course in the Mariana .

Dive 2
After our return from Fiji, I was quite busy counting all my money from the treasure I had found and depositing it in my Swiss Bank account. I came home to my 200 acre estate in Bel Air to relax from the rigors of counting $500 bills.
As I was sipping a pink lemonaide in my Versace lawn chairs, I noticed my friend McKenney was mumbling as he mowed my 140 acre lawn with the manual mower (I don't believe in polluting the environment with hydrocarbons, and gas is sooo expensive these days).
As he passed by me, I could tell he must have been angry at the garden pests he encountered, because he looked at me, and I could hear him mumble "****in' lousy worm. Stinkin' lousy worm"... over and over.
I decided then and there that I needed to take my friend on another dive adventure.
To that end, he told me that he had heard that there was some great diving off the Scottish coast, where the water was warm, clear as daylight, and had virtually no current. "That's where you belong, dude" he said. Well, a recommendation from McKenney is as good as gospel to me, so we were off.
I had to make some preparations first: I contacted my friends in the Clinton administration (I had made these friends when I contributed $100,000 to the "Save Hillary's Butt" crusade, which provided the first lady with a continuous supply of Winchells Doughnuts to preserve the first-butt...) to get permission to use the U.S. Navy's new XBZ-6000 Mark 36 plutonium-powered rebreather. One was shipped to me via Apache Helicopter the next day.
McKenney told me that in order to maximize my use of this unit, I had to complete Kato's Deep Air course, which was now being taught in South Florida, at a place called "Wakulla". As soon as McKenney packed my bags, as well as Buffy's (my current flame that I met waiting for her "date" on Sunset and Vine in Hollywood) we were off.
On the flight over, Buffy had some problems figuring out how to use the towell dispenser in the airplane restroom, so McKenney volunteered to help her out. Two hours later, they both emerged, and by the smiles on their faces, I could tell that she had finally got the difficulties of air travel licked.
Kato met us in Florida, and we proceeded to drive in his 1965 Plymouth Valiant to Wakulla. Kato had a bumper sticker on the back of his car that read "Deep Air es Muerte!", and a licence plate that read "OTOX 1". Since I don't speak Spanish, and I'm not very good with anagrams, I didn't quite understand what they meant. McKenney just smiled at my questions and said "you will soon, dude..." I was elated. My continuing dive education had begun!
On arrival at Wakulla, my new scooter was also waiting for me. I had the boys at Los Alamos Nuclear Lab build it for me. It had a Westinghouse 750 hp motor driven by a internal nuclear reactor that connected to a 4' diameter prop, and was capable of cruising in excess of 260 knots at a rated depth of 20,000 FSW.
I decided to try it on my first dive.
We hit the water, and immediately began to descend. Since the XBZ-6000 weighed in at over 400 lbs. I began to descend rapidly.
McKenney gave me the techdiver "are you O.K?" sign (a raised middle finger) immediately. I signalled back that so far, I was fine. He then gave me the techdiver "check your PO2" sign (which is a motion of pointing at me, then grabbing his crotch up and down). I checked the PO2 on my secondary display. It read 3.0 and climbing, which is what Kato and McKenney had set it for ("Can't get too much oxygen", said Kato).
Comfortable in the care of my two good friends, I proceeded to enter the cave system, powered along by my scooter. As I entered the cave, I noticed a legend in the community, George Irvine, III, coming out of the cave. He had in tow about 6 divers who must have been practicing their breath holding technique, for none of them had their regulators (which were attached by short hoses) in their mouths.
I waved enthusiastically at Mr. Irvine, since I was in awe of meeting this great man. In return, he too gave me the techdiver "are you O.K?" sign. Can you imagine, this great man, in the middle of a training exercise for what I learned later was the "King/Stone Exploration Project Team" would take the time out to ask if I was o.k? I was thrilled!
As I got deeper into the cave system, I turned on my square lights that McKenney had loaned me, and saw the most amazing things. Being new to cave diving, I had never imagined how beautiful cave systems were.
By this time, my friend McKenney must have decided that I was ready to fly solo. He swam up to me, and with a last "are you O.K?" sign, he placed a zip-tie over the throttle of my scooter, and cinched it all the way down. Immediately, I took off accelerating rapidly. As I looked back, both Kato and McKenney were giving me the "Check your PO2" sign in unison. Since it had stabilized at my set-point of 4.5 I decided to concentrate on steering the scooter, since it was getting close to its cruising speed of 260 knots.
Everything began to blur in my vision, which I attributed to my excitement at all the new experiences I was having. I kept passing all these arrows, and line running along side the cave walls, until suddenly they stopped. I must have travelled a good 12 miles beyond the last one, when suddenly my square light exploded.
Not to be deterred, I reached into my b.c. pocket and pulled out my Bic squeeze light that I kept for just such an emergency. It worked very well, and lit the rest of my journey.
Before I knew it, the cave seemed to have a wall at the end of it. I struggled to remove the zip-tie that McKenney had placed on my throttle (he is such a kidder, my pal...). Before I could remove it, all the lights went out, as I slammed into the wall at just over 275 knots.
I must admit, I was a bit dazed at the impact, and thought that perhaps I had lost my liver. I immediately began to feel very warm, and it was hard to move, since the water was very thick at this depth.
The next thing I know, I am forcefully blown out of the 75' deep hole that my impact bore into the granite face of the cave. Everything was black, and even my Bic squeeze light was no help.
It took me a while to realize that I had slammed into a sub-terranian crude oil vent, that was now pushing me out of the cave about as fast as I went in.
I wanted to share this new discovery with my friends, so I restarted the scooter (which had somehow lost the zip-tie) and began my journey out.
Along the way, I stopped at the point where the line and arrows had stopped, and began to remove them inch by inch. I don't like people cluttering up our natural resources...
Upon my exit from the cave system you could imagine the surprise on everyones face when I emerged from the water covered in oil.
Everyone had this dissappointed look on their face, which I didn't understand until I realized that I had interrupted their DAN "mouth-to-mouth" resuscitation training with Buffy. It was really touching to see that the entire WKPP team were willing to help my friends Kato & McKenney contribute to Buffy's diving education...
Mr. Irvine was particularly surprised when I handed him over 2 miles of line and arrows that I had retrieved from the cave system. He simply stared at it, and with a tear in his eye began yelling over and over "SMD! SMD!!!" which I figured must mean "Some Magnificent Diving!". I was truly humbled to receive such a compliment from this wonderful man...
In the parking lot, we passed by several ambulances which were carrying the King/Stone Expedition team to their next phase of training. I was very proud to be in the company of such advanced technical divers, I turned to take one last look at Wakulla and could still see Mr. Irvine running up and down the shore waving his hands wildly in the air and yelling "SMD!!" over and over. I caught his eye, and he gave me both the "are you o.k?" sign and the "check your PO2" sign, which I took as a reminder from him to practice safe diving wherever my travels take me.
Since the shore was now covered almost completely in crude oil, a gentleman from the EPA had arrived. I asked him if he knew Mr. Irvine, and he said that Mr. Irvine was the permit holder for Wakulla.
"He's in it, deeper than you can possibly imagine" said the man from the EPA. It was gratifying to know that our government recognizes the talents of our citizens...
As it turns out, the area in which my scooter impacted the rock was just below land that McKenney had lost to me a month before in a poker game we had played after he had finished polishing my golf clubs. He didn't seem to mind losing it too much, since he called it "swampland" (which he said is Indian for "Good land to build real estate development on"). I knew that he didn't know much about real estate, so losing it wouldn't bother him too much.
Well, I immediately got a call from the folks at Shell Oil, and they want to start drilling the land, and pay me over $12 Billion for the rights to do so. When I told this to McKenney, some of the sushi that Mr. Irvine bought for him must have upset his stomach, because he immediately ran to the side of the road and started throwing up.
I had had a bit too much excitement to continue on to Scotland, so I decided to give Buffy $5.00 for a taxi ride to the nearest youth hostel (my new experiences, I felt, had made us grow apart), and head on home to Bel Air...
Back at my estate, sipping some 200 yr. old brandy, I reflected on the close friendship that formed the bond between McKenney and I. I watched him quietly, as he continued to mow the lawn (friendship is friendship, but he is still working off his poker debt to me. I AM a man of principals, after all...).
Sweating in the 90 degree heat of the sun, I noticed that he continued to mutter "that rotten, stinking, ****ing worm..."
It is disturbing that I took him on this vacation to forget his daily battle with the insects that live in my lawn, but he continues to hold a grudge. I think I'll plan a dive to Antarctica this summer, when its nice and warm, to try and get his mind off that silly little worm...

So there I am, relaxing on the grounds of my estate, drinking a pina colada, and watching my friend McKenney digging a 30 x 60 x 25 deep hole in the ground for my new dive pool. Sure, I could have hired some contractors to come in with back hoes, but I like to save money where I can, and McKenney is still working off that gambling debt. Since the temperature had climbed to 102 degrees, and he was shoveling dirt with a small hand trowel that the old gardener, Jose, had left behind when I fired him, he was sweating profusely.
McKenney I cried, why don t you take a five minute break, and drink some water from the garden hose? He made a face, and uttered some remarks that I couldn t understand.
Poor devil. It was so hot, and I was interrupting his work. And get me some ice for my drink while you re at it I said. To this, he began to swear under his breath. I smiled, since I knew my friend well, and he is most dedicated to the task at hand. I had angered him, by stopping him from finishing the hole that he so dilligently dug.
When he returned, and threw the ice in my glass, I ignored the dirt that had moved from his hand, to the ice, to finally, my drink, and decided then and there that I should make it up to him for keeping him from his chores.
How about a dive? I said. At first, he looked forlorn. I wondered secretly if he hadn t enjoyed our previous outings. But as he stared blankly at me, a small smile began to cross his face, which then spread into a broad grin. Before he spoke, he was positively laughing out loud.
A Dive?? A ****ing Dive??? Have I got a DIVE for you!! he yelled with tremendous relish. This pleased me no end, since I like to see my friends happy.
Where shall we go? I asked, enthusiasm building within me by the moment. Hawaii, dude. Bottom of a god damned reef in Hawaii. That s where you belong he said while smiling and darting his eyes quickly back and forth in thought.
Wonderful I said. We' ll go tomorrow!
I had recently ordered the tape Doing it Right by Mr. George Irvine III so I knew the kind of set-up I wanted. Have you seen Doing it Right II ? he said. No. I didn t know he did a sequel I replied.
Well, George realized what a mistake he had made in the first one, so he did it over again. He s a pal of mine, so I ll set you up just like him my friend said.
I was simply overjoyed at the idea of using the same techniques as the famed WKPP divers of Florida, even though Mr. Irvine was still a bit ungrateful that I had cleaned up Wakulla on my last dive by removing all those pesky lines and arrows, but since one must accept the eccentricities of greatness, I decided not to hold a grudge. Besides, he still sends me post cards with the tech diver "how are you?" symbols of "SMD! SMD!!!" written all over them...
McKenney departed for about two hours. When he returned, he had several large K bottles marked Argon, Hydrogen, and Oxygen . He began to build my rig immediately. He had assembeled a set of triples, using one Argon bottle, one Hydrogen bottle, and one Oxygen bottle, and attached it to a Transformer pac, which I had never seen before. It had lots and lots of D rings, however, and looked quite technical. He had also purchased a large game bag for holding the 60 lbs. of lead that he said I would need for just the right buoyancy .
I was set, and we were off.
Upon arrival in Hawaii, I was surprised to see our old friend, Dick Kato waiting for us at the airport. When I inquired as to why he decided to join us, McKenney interrupted his response to say we both want to see that you re taken care of, completely... They both smiled at this, which made me feel wonderful to have such good friends to look out for me.
On the day of the dive, I thought we were going to go out on a dive charter boat, but my friends had decided to pick up a used Zodiac for our trip. The place we re taking you to is secret, dude, Kato said. Yeah, we don t want no witnesses - I mean, other divers learning about our spot McKenney interjected. Kato gave McKenney an unpleasant look, which I took to mean that maybe he wasn t too happy in sharing this special spot with others. Don t worry, boys. I' ll keep this place secret to my grave I said. This seemed to make them both very happy, and they chuckled as they looked at me.
Once we were at the dive site, we noticed another boat in the horizon, which worried us all. Not wanting to give away this secret spot, we decided that I would drop in the water with all my gear, while Kato and McKenney pretended to fish.
Once I had manuvered the gear on my back, my friend McKenney lifted a Haskell pump and attached it to my D rings.
This is the latest in tech-diving, dude." he said. "You make your bottom mix while you are on the bottom so all the gas is properly blended. Well , I thought, Too bad Skin Diver magazine isn' t doing an article on this. Since it s Mr. Irvine s favorite magazine, I m sure he would read all about my dive using his new techniques.
Both McKenney and Kato were looking at me with smiles on their faces. Time for you to go, dude McKenney said. And with that, he motioned to Kato who then pushed me over the side, while both of them gave me the tech-diver "Good Luck" sign by placing their left hands on their biceps, while raising their right fists in a jerking motion.
As I hit the water, I began to sink rapidly. Unfortunately, in our haste to get me rigged up, it seems as thought my friend forgot to connect my b.c. inflator. As I dropped like a stone, I could still see them on the boat giving each other a high-five.
Can you imagine the pride I felt at that moment, knowing that I had such dear friends who could rejoice in my learning experiences? I wanted to tell them, but since I wasn t able to communicate with them, I set myself to try and get my buoyancy straight.
But as I passed the 375 foot mark, I noticed something large swimming below me. It then disappeared. I was beginning to get concerned that I should try and control my rate of descent when suddenly, the bottom of my tripple tanks struck something with a bang! Meanwhile, I felt something soft beneath me, since I had stopped in a sitting position. When I looked down, I saw a man wearing a Cis Lunar Mark IV rebreather. I knew immediately that there was only one person in the world who dove to these depths with that kind of rebreather - the legendary Richard Pyle. "That must be his boat we saw over the site" I thought.
I wanted to say hello to Mr. Pyle, but it seemed that I had punctured the bottom of one of my tanks - the Hydrogen one. A spark from striking the rock must have ignited the gas, because I started to ascend with incredible speed.
My last view of Mr. Pyle was of him sinking rapidly with lots of bubbles coming out of his center section. If I hadn t been forcefully rocketing to the surface, I would have suggested to him that he use a BioMarine unit in the future - those Cis Lunars seem to eminate tons of bubbles from every orifice.
As he sank rapidly, he looked up at me and gave me the techdiver are you o.k? sign with both middle fingers raised. I am constantly struck by how concerned my fellow tech divers are of each other. What a joyous bunch of fellows to make up this brotherhood...
Unfortunately, I was unable to respond in kind, since he was sinking as fast as I was rising. I was moving with such incredible speed, that all I saw was blue streaks in front of me.
Once I reached the surface, the only sight I saw was the surprised look on my friends McKenney and Kato s faces as I passed through the very center of the Zodiac. I must have attained an altitude of about 2000 feet before I landed in the water, just off shore of a resort that I had purchased a month before from the proceeds of selling McKenney s library, which he had lost to me during a poker game in Fiji.
As I swam to the shore, my employees rushed out to help me with my cumbersome gear. Out in the distance, I could see the Zodiac sinking, and my friends begin a fun swim to the shore. They even stopped to play with some Orca s that were feeding on spinner dolphins. I could tell that they were both having fun as the killer whales tossed them back and forth through the air like bean-bag dolls - they were both screaming and waving their arms frantically at me with joy. They were having so much fun, I decided to leave them with their new-found friends of the deep.
We haven t heard much from them, or Mr. Pyle in quite a while... I hope they don't stay in the water too long, they could get all wrinkly...
Once onshore, I noticed that one of my tanks had caught one of Mr. Pyles nets, which contained a previously undocumented beautiful fish. I named this fish the Kevin-Pyles-McKenney & Kato fish. Turns out, its skin releases a substance that cures most human diseases. I m set to receive the Nobel Prize in a few months, and have licenced the substance to the Burroughs/Wellcome Pharmaceutical company, under the direction of Peter Hezeltine for $1.6 billion in cash and stock.
Diving with my friend McKenney is so much fun. He has taught me a lot about diving, as well as my other good friend, Kato. I can' t wait to use my new found skills on my next dive with Mr. Irvine...

My First Dive with Mr. Irvine
After returning from Hawaii I was relaxing on my estate, with a jar of Beluga Caviar and some Lafite Rothchild '53 champagne, when the phone rang.

"Dude" the voice said.

"Yes, this is he" I replied. "This is George Irvine III, Dude, and I'm here in Florida with your friends Kato, McKenney and Pyle."

Well, I was quite shocked to say the least, since I hadn't heard from my friends since their playful romp with the Orca's. In fact, my last sight of them was when they were screaming with joy as the killer whales tossed them through the air.

"How are they, Mr. Irvine?" I asked, still surprised that this great cave explorer would bother to call a lowly tech-diver like myself.

"They're fine. After spending a few months in Intensive Care, they came to see me, and they wanna dive" he said.

"Well, they came to the right man, I'm sure, Mr. Irvine" I said with the utmost of pride in my friends choosing to dive with the great Mr. Irvine.

"Call me Trey" he said with a smooth smile in his voice. Well, I was simply flabbergasted at this. I was being allowed to call Mr. Irvine by his tech-diver buddy name. "Yes sir, Mr. Trey!" I said.

"And they want you to come dive with us" he said. This was almost too muchfor me to comprehend in one day. "Whata ya say, Chief?" he asked. Therewas only one answer to this question when summoned by the likes of my new friend, Trey. "Yes sir! Where should I meet you?"

"Scotland" was his answer. "We've got us a little dive scheduled for the North Sea, and we want you there, reaaal baaad..."

I immediately hung up the phone, and had my chauffeur rush me to the airport for a flight to Scotland. I decided to bring Sapphire, my newest flame with me so she could meet my friends. Since I found her walking back and forth in front of the Convention Center, wearing only some incredibly high heels, and a tight pink spandex dress with holes cut all the way up each side, she had been my constant companion for the last day and a half. Her "date" hadn't shown up, she said. Tough luck for him, I say. It's not every day that I get to meet a college co-ed like this...

Upon arrival in Scotland, I was once again reunited with my friends Kato & McKenney. Kato was wearing some torn clothing, and seemed to walk with a limp. When I inquired about this, he showed me his wooden leg. Seems like the Orca's had a bit too much fun with him. My pal McKenney looked just fine except that he was missing some fingers, and had a nasty scar running the entire length of his face.

After introducing them to Sapphire, they took me to baggage claim. Sapphire needed to use the restroom after our long trip, so both Kato and McKenney volunteered to show her the way. The restrooms in the Scottish airport must be far away, since it took them two hours to get back. McKenney had some lipstick stains on his face, no doubt from trying to cover the terrible scar. Sapphire looked particularly content, and I couldn't help but notice that Kato had carved her initials in his wooden leg. I was so happy that my friends had accepted Sapphire, that I forgot to remind McKenney that he was two months late on his rent check...

Just then, "Trey" walked up to me. I almost fell down at the sight of him. He was wearing a full beard, which looked fake, and had dyed his hair purple and cut it into a Mohawk with spikes. He kept looking around furtively, and I noticed that the baggage claim area was full of men in suits and dark glasses. A couple of them wore jackets that said "EPA" on the back.

"Is that YOU, Mr. Irvine??" I exclaimed. "Keep your fuckin' punk-ass voice down, ass-munch!" he said with a low snarl in his voice, "And call me, Trey..." Well, I immediately sized up the situation. Mr. Irvine has become so popular that he must disguise himself as a punk rocker in order to go freely about in public, and his cover was as precise as his diving techniques. He had even adopted the abusive language exhibited by the punk-rocking elite... I knew at once to go along with the ruse...

"O.K, Trey" I said. "I brought you some barbecued sushi" I said, as I handed the Tupperware container over to him. He took one look at it, made a disgusted face, and threw it into the nearest trashcan. I guess he stopped eating at Lucy's since the EPA had to shut it down... "How's WKPP?" I asked him. "Still under 5 feet of crude oil, you scumbag piece of shit!" he snarled. He was REALLY good at this character acting. I secretly wondered if Mr. Irvine was planning an acting career. He was better than Burt Reynolds, as far as I was concerned.

The five of us then hustled out of the airport, past all the men from the government.

We boarded a beat-up van, and paused briefly for Kato to climb in the back, after retrieving his wooden leg, which somehow had fallen off, and rolled into the gutter. The sight of him swearing and hopping on one leg made my old friend McKenney laugh, which I though was rather cruel...

I then noticed that we had a driver whom I vaguely recognized. He was an older man, with a rather wizzen appearance. When I looked over to Mr. Irvine, he noticed the quizzical look on my face and said "Tom Mount, meet the Dude"...

"Well", I thought, "imagine that. I am finally meeting one of the legends of the diving world". Mr. Mount simply grunted his hello, so I decided to break the ice somewhat. "I've read all your books, Mr. Mount" I said. "I especially enjoyed your book on deep-air diving, and the chapter entitled "Who Cares How Deep You Go?"."

To this, Mr. Mount turned and smiled. He was missing some teeth, and looked positively like a pirate from some Douglas Fairbanks movie...

"Yup, yes sir-ee! Wrote me a pile 'o books! Heh, heh... Yup. Deep air, yup... Gotta go deep. Yup... heh, heh... Deep, deep deep...Y'know, the vacuum bag is mighty hot today, eh youngster?" he babbled on.

Not knowing what to make of this, I turned to Mr. Irvine... "Mount here, is going to certify you on deep air, dude" Mr. Irvine said. "Wow" I said, "I thought you didn't like deep air, Mr... I mean, Trey"...

"Yeah, well, that was until ol' Kato here convinced me otherwise, eh Kato??" he said, while motioning to Kato in the back of the van.

"Fuckin' Hawaiian piece of shit! Son of a Bitch!! God damned motherfucker!!!" Kato yelled from the back of the van, as he swung his wooden leg through the air, smashing it on the floor of the van over and over.

"Hey, LIMP-DICK!" Mr. Irvine yelled. Kato stopped his senseless rampage, and looked up at Mr. Irvine in a semi-daze, while McKenney continued to chuckle from the front seat. "Cut that shit out!" Mr. Irvine continued, "I told 'ya, I'd buy 'ya a new fuckin' leg next week. Gavin'll make one for ya, so cool it!" Kato seemed to settle down at this. McKenney continued to chuckle, while Mr. Mount kept busy by driving and mumbling to himself.

"Where's Mr. Pyle?" I asked Mr. Irvine. "He's waiting for you down at the dock" was his reply.

"Gonna rip your heart out, and EAT IT, you lousy motherfucker!!!" Kato screamed from the back seat. "SHUT THE FUCK UP, NEEDLE-DICK!!" Mr. Irvine yelled at him. I guess Kato really was upset at the craftsmanship of his wooden leg, but I decided not to inform him that wooden legs didn't have hearts to rip out...

When we got to the dock, we were greeted by Mr. Pyle, who seemed to be attached to a portable respirator. "Greetings, Mr. Pyle!" I said with an outstretched hand. "Ready to do some diving?" I quipped.

"We're.....gonna.....fix....you....but....good...dude" Mr. Pyle said in-between breaths from his respirator. Mr. Irvine shot Mr. Pyle a nasty look, no doubt due to his concern that Mr. Pyle not stress himself trying to speak.

I was going to ask Mr. Pyle why he was on a respirator, but was interrupted by a crashing sound coming from the van. Seems like Kato's wooden leg got stuck in the van step, and he came down hard with all the gear on top of him.

"Motherfucker!! Shit, shit, SHIT!!" he screamed. My old friend McKenney couldn't contain himself. He began to laugh hysterically at this, which angered Kato even further. Kato picked up his wooden leg, and smashed McKenney's kneecap with it. McKenney shrieked with pain and rage, and grabbed Kato by his pony-tail.

They began to swing at each other, getting themselves tangled in mounds of weight belts, until Kato connected with a strong right cross. My friend McKenney recoiled from the blow, and still holding on to Kato's bandana and pony-tail, fell backwards off the dock, dragging Kato with him. They both hit the water at about the same time, and with the added weight of the belts, sank like stones beneath the surface.

Mr. Irvine just stood there watching the spectacle impassively. "Shouldn't we DO something, Trey?" I asked. "Naw... They're both tech-divers, dude. They can breath hold for hours at a time." was his reply.

"Lets.....get.....this.....over.....with...." Mr. Pyle said from the other side of the dock. Sapphire evidently felt sorry for Mr. Pyle's condition, and was beginning to give him a massage to make him feel better. "Dude, come over here" said Mr. Irvine.

The sight that awaited me on the other side of the dock looked quite impressive. There was a single tank that stood about 6 feet high. coming out of the top, was a single short hose, with a Voit second stage regulator connected to it. Strapped to the back of the tank was a large rocket, with fins, and an electrical cable extending to a box nearby. Mr. Mount was busily pushing buttons on the box and cackling to himself. He was doing some kind of little dance, and saying over and over "deep, deep, deep... gotta go deep, heh, heh..."

"Dude, this is the latest in dive technology" Mr. Irvine said.

"What is the biggest problem with diving today?" he asked suddenly.

"I don't know, Trey, what is it?" I replied.

"Gettin' to the damned dive site, that's what" he stated firmly.

"This puppy will allow you to step up, pet the pony, and fry its ass at the same time" he said with a chuckle. "And you're gonna be the first victim- I mean Pilot" he said.

Well, I was completely astonished at this. The honor of being the first tech diver to try out this new technology pioneered by the likes of Mr. Irvine and Mr. Mount was almost too much to bear.

"You're gonna need these first, dude" Mr. Irvine said. He helped me into a TransPac BC with quadruple bladders, all held down by huge bungee cords. He then strapped on 4 square lights, 2 Genesis 120 tanks, 5 Bridge II computers, 2 Cochran computers as backup, 3 sets of Force Fins, and 5 Dive Alerts hooked up in sequence.

"Hook........that......fucker......up......and......lets.....do.....it...." Mr. Pyle said, now laying on the dock in just his underwear as Sapphire continued her massage therapy.

"All right, dude. The time has come..." Mr. Irvine said with a smile. "Time to send you on your way, Chief" he added.

Well, I was a bit apprehensive to say the least, but with a man like Mr. Irvine in charge of my equipment, I knew I was in good hands. I walked over to the tank/rocket assembly, where Mr. Mount began strapping me in. He had spit foaming at the corners of his mouth, as he mumbled "gonna go deep today, gotta go deep... deep, deep, deep..."

"We had Bill Hamilton cut you some custom tables, dude." Mr. Irvine informed me. "You'll go to 330 on air for 1 hour, then deco for 5 minutes at 10 feet."

"Is that enough?" I asked. "That'll about do it, Chief. No deco weenies in my group." Gosh! I was now included in Mr. Irvine's "group". Who was I to argue with that??

I was trying to adjust myself in this rather cumbersome arrangement, when Mr. Irvine smiled and said to me "See you in Hell, Chief" - obviously the secret motto of the WKPP. I was truly now one of the "boys" - I almost bust my anchor-chain restraints with pride at this honor...

He and Mr. Pyle then gave me the TechDiver "are you o.k" sign (a raised middle finger). Mr. Pyle tossed me a Herring to take with me for good luck.

It was then that something seemed to go wrong...

Mr. Irvine started to chuckle, and looked over at Mr. Mount, who was now singing the theme from "Gilligan's Island." Mr. Mount was beginning to press buttons on the console. "Gonna go deep, heh, heh... deep, deep for the dooood!" he sang as he pushed a big red button.

Mr. Irvine's eyes seemed to bug out of his head as he screamed "NOOOOO! MOUNT, YOU IDIOT, NOT YET!!!"

Suddenly, I felt an explosion at my feet, and a rush of acceleration as the rocket was ignited. Upon lift-off, it immediately began to rotate, and the last sight I saw of the dock was of my friends...

Mr. Mount was standing next to the console, completely on fire, still singing his song. Mr. Irvine was running away, with a long trail of flame coming from his punk-rocker mohawk hair and jacket. Mr. Pyle was still lying down in his underwear, but was now completely black and smoking, a strange smile etched on his charred face. Sapphire seemed to be blown
clear of the dock, and landed in a merchant marine ship that was just setting sail.

Meanwhile, I was ascending to an incredible altitude. I quickly grabbed the Voit regulator, and put it in my mouth. The rocket seemed to have changed directions, and I was now descending toward the water in mid-channel.

I broke the surface at about 400 mph. and began to immediately descend. I barely had a chance to look at my exploding Bridge II computers when I hit the soft sediment at about 120 knots. The top of the tank burrowed deep into the soil at 300 fsw. I must have hit about 350 fsw flying through all the muck, when suddenly, I struck something that made me carom off of it in an upward direction.

Just as fast as I went down, I was now going up. As I passed the 200 foot mark, the bungee cords on my bondage wings broke, and the wings inflated to their complete 15 foot span.

As I broke the surface of the water, the rocket seemed to run out of fuel, and I crashed back to the surface, kept afloat by the quadruple wings that were now full of air.

"What an exhilarating ride!" I thought. "I can't wait to tell Mr. Irvine about THIS!" I said aloud.

Just then, a trawler owned by a fishing company that I had acquired with some of the proceeds from my sale of McKenney's library steamed up. My faithful employees pulled me from the water, and upon removal of my gear, I noticed some odd looking shiny objects lodged between the rows of bondage wings that were attached to my b.c.

Upon further analysis, it turns out that I had struck the long lost wreck of the King Charles in the harbor, and some of the crown jewels had become lodged in my rig. I immediately claimed salvage rights, and have since recovered about $12 Billion in treasure.

I was also invited to dine with the Queen, her family and all 5 of the original Spice Girls. During dinner, I recounted my story to Her Majesty, while Fergie and Posh Spice played footsie with me under the table. One of the Queen's guards was quite interested that Mr. Irvine was with me in Scotland, and excused himself, saying that he had to contact the "Yard" about this. I guess he wanted to contact the Naval Yard to let all the divers there know that one of the finest in the business was visiting their great country.

As I retired for the evening, with Fergie and the Girls all sneaking into my room, I reflected on the many wonderful diving experiences I have had with my fine friends. I hope to see them all one day soon, so that we might share another great dive adventure, brother tech-divers, one and all...

The Last Dive with McKenney

"...It's time, dude..."

With those three words, my good friend McKenney had started our new adventure to the beautiful island of Maui in Hawaii.

McKenney had managed to save enough from the weekly salary I paid him of $57.32 to buy a ranch up in Creston California, and had moved there. It was quite a loss for me, since the lawn never looked as good without him mowing it every day. But one day, my lawyers advised me that somehow I had acquired all the mining rights to Creston, and there was valuable gold and diamonds located just under McKenney's ranch - they had already commenced strip-mining of the entire area, and so my friend had to move, while they bulldozed his new log cabin home to make way for the heavy machinery.

Happily, he decided to move back in with me. "Your day is coming, dude..." was all he said when he came through the door. Obviously, he was referring to the estimated 12.5 billion dollars in gold and diamonds that awaited me under his property. It was such a wonderful feeling to know that he could be happy for my gains in the face of his own loss, and I once again thanked my lucky stars to have such a good friend.

After a week of staying in his room with the lights off, I began to grow a bit concerned that my friend wasn't getting enough sunlight - but on the 8th day, he emerged, just in time to greet a huge truck that was rolling down my 1.2 mile paved driveway.

On the back of the truck, was this huge contraption, wrapped in a tarp.

"What's that?" I asked. "A surprise" was all he said. I then heard him mutter under his breath "the fuckin' ride of your life..."

Well, you can imagine how my excitement grew, knowing that my best friend in the world had been thoughtful enough to come up with a surprise for me.

When he unwrapped the tarp, what I saw was an enormous submarine.

"Submarine?" I said. "Yup" he replied. "I had Robinette make it for you"...

"Tracy made this for me??" I asked.

"Yup. He still remembers the oil-rig incident..." He was, no doubt, referring to the time when Robinette was testing a new rebreather that would revolutionize the industry. He happened to be testing it in an area of the ocean where I had an oil lease. Well, to make a long story short, I forgot to tell him that the foreman of the rig had decided to blast that day.

Unfortunately for Robinette, the explosion destroyed all traces of his brand new boat, including the revolutionary rebreather and all drawings. Robinette was sad that he had lost his entire life savings, but after hearing that the oil-well had struck a pool of oil larger than all of the Saudi reserves, and would net me billions of dollars in the future, he took on a biblical tone, and said "I swear to God, and all that is Holy, Dude - you've got it coming to you..."

Once again, I felt truly blessed that he would acknowledge my good fortune in the face of his personal tragedy...

"So, what's it made of?" I asked my friend McKenney, looking at the submarine sitting on the truck. "It's the latest in deep water diving and recycled materials technology, Dude," he said. "It's made of recycled Post-It notes, wire hangers, and 5 minute Epoxy".

"Wow" was all I could say. "How deep will it go?" I asked. "With luck, to the blackest part of the ocean depths" he said. He was looking at me with this strange smile on his face - I could imagine he must be envying my upcoming adventure.

With that, we were off. The submarine was carefully hoisted aboard my new 700 foot yacht, dubbed the "You Rotten Lousy Bastard" after the term coined by McKenney. He told me that this was a true TechDiver's greeting to other TechDivers, and he never seemed to miss an opportunity to greet me that way. It really made me feel like part of the "team" - the community of brave men who have the privilege of calling themselves "TechDivers." I was so honored by my friend including me in that elite fraternity, that I gave that name to my ship.

Waiting for us on board was another surprise - My good friend and diving buddy Kato was there! I hadn't seen Kato since he and McKenney sank to the depths on our last diving excursion, where Mr. George Irvine was unfortunately burned beyond recognition after Tom Mount accidentally activated the rocket launchers on my cave-diving rig early.

Kato was on board with his new girlfriend, "Poodle". She seemed quite happy, as did the rest of my crew who kept smiling and staring at her. I made a mental note to talk to the Captain of the ship about the crews uniforms, since they all had their shirts unbuttoned, their zippers open, and what looked like lipstick smears all over their bodies... They shouldn't be so sloppy when getting dressed in the morning, after all, I do pay them 5 cents over minimum wage...

But all thoughts of my crews untidy uniforms evaporated once I saw Kato. He was still missing an arm and leg, and was wearing a new eye-patch that had the words "Revenge or Death" embroidered on it. He said this was a new TechDiver slogan that all of my friends had adopted after the unfortunate incident with Mr. Irvine. I guess they were quite upset with IANTD since Tom Mount ignited those rockets without following proper protocol...

"How's it going, Dill-Hole?" (I had used the TechDiver nickname that McKenney told me Kato liked). "Its going UP YOUR ASS, THAT'S WHERE, DICKHEAD!!!!!" I was familiar with the "up your ass" comment, since Mr. Irvine had told me that that's what Cave Divers always said to each other, but Kato obviously forgot my TechDiver nickname which McKenney had given to me on an earlier trip of "ScumBag" (meaning someone who has plowed deep into the ocean depths).

"Sorry, Dill-Hole - you must have forgot, I'm ScumBag" I said. "Oh... Forgive me, you obviously are a ScumBag." he said with a sudden smile. "After this, it'll be 'FishFood', heh, heh..." he chuckled. McKenney flashed him a nasty look, I guess because they were probably keeping my new TechDiver nickname a secret until I had successfully completed my submarine training.

After McKenney was finished supervising the loading of the submarine on the boat, he excused himself to go have a private conference with Poodle in her stateroom (no doubt regarding the social agenda for our trip). He didn't emerge for two days, and when he did, he was covered in cuts, scratches, and bruises. "Fixed a leak in the toilet" is what he said to my query as to his injuries...

Well, we were off to the beautiful island of Maui, Hawaii...

On our arrival in Hawaii, waiting for us on the dock was none other than Mr. Jim Hyperski of the Dacor Corporation, and my old friend, Rich Pyle. I was quite happy to see Rich, and when I said so, he replied in a very mechanical voice: "greetings.....and....salutations.....Dude...."

His eyes, however, didn't meet mine. "Strange" I thought to myself. I then noticed some wires running from a block, which had a strange logo of the Earth and Moon with a circle around them on it, attached to the back of his neck . The cables ran down the dock to a box, held by a man. Upon closer examination, I realized that the man holding the box was Dr. Peter Heseltine. "Dr. Heseltine!" I yelled. "Good to see you!"

"Gshooood ta sheee u toooo..." he muttered under his breath, which smelled heavily of alcohol. He then pulled out of his vest pocket a small bottle of Ripple and took a big swig. "What is that contraption you're holding, good Doctor, and why is it attached to Mr. Pyle's neck?" I asked. "My latesht invention..." he sputtered, while hocking up the largest lugie I had ever seen.

"Whatch thhisss...." he then whispered to me. He began to sing some drunken Irish song, all the while manipulating knobs and levers on the box he was holding. I looked across the dock to see Mr. Pyle all of a sudden doing the Jig, and tap-dancing like a RiverDance groupie.

"My goodness!" I exclaimed. "Cybernetic control! What a breakthrough!" I said aloud. "How did you come up with this?" I asked the Doctor. "Fuck HIM - it was MY idea" I heard someone behind me reply. "NO, It was MY idea!" yelled another voice. I turned around to see the two Elliott Brothers standing there.

"YOU didn't invent SHIT" yelled Bill Elliott.

"SCREW YOU! I came up with the idea!" yelled Paul.

"I wrote the friggin' CODE, Assmunch!" yelled Bill.

"And I debugged your CRAPPY software!" screamed Paul.

"Well....well.... uh.... I OWN the Friggin' COMPANY!" spat Bill.

"uh.....uh......well.... I'M GONNA TELL MOM!!!" shrieked Paul. He looked like he might start crying.

"YOU.....YOU.....YOU BETTER NOT!!!!!" howled Bill.

With that, they both started chasing each other around the dock. Both crying and threatening to tell on each other for past transgressions.

"Tu la rue, la rue la rue! And Fuck the British Army!!" Dr. Heseltine kept singing. all the while, moving knobs and dials that made Mr. Pyle dance even higher and higher. Taking interest in his device, I decided to pull one of the large levers on the side of the box. "Noooooooooo!" Cried Dr. Heseltine in sudden alarm.

All of a sudden, Mr. Pyle jumped up 10 feet in the air, pirouetted 3 times, and came down with a ferociously high kick. Unfortunately, the kick was mis-directed and resulted in Jim Hyperski getting kicked square in the face. The force of the impact was so severe, that it literally knocked Hyperski off the dock, and into the cargo hold of a scrap metal hauler nearby.

Pyle landed about 2 feet away from the dock, on the water side, and fell into the sea. The cables attaching him to Dr. Heseltines box went with him.

"Nooooooooo!" Cried Dr. Heseltine once again. The cables suddenly yanked with the force of Pyle's sinking weight, and the box, which was strapped to Dr. Heseltine's chest pulled him across the dock screaming.

"Noooooooo, you Loushy....Rotten......Bashtaaard!!!!!!" were the last words he screamed, as his body sank into the abyss.

What a true TechDiver, I thought. Even his last words were a salute to me as his TechDiving friend. It made me even more proud of my pals...

"Noooooooooooo!!!!" Bill and Paul suddenly screamed in unison. They had stopped wrestling on the ground, and now ran to the end of the dock and jumped in after Dr. Heseltine and Rich Pyle. "My invention!" I heard Bill scream. "MY INVENTION!!" I heard Paul's shrill reply.

As I was walking back to the boat, I heard another scream coming from the Cargo Ship next to the dock. When I turned to look, I was amazed to see Mr. Hyperski actually flying UP from the cargo hold in mid-air. "CLANG!!" was the sound I heard when he struck the giant magnet used to pull scrap metal out of the hold of the ship.

"What's going on?" I asked my one-eyed friend Kato.

"...Told the stupid bastard to pay extra for the non-magnetic hip..." was all he said. We were all transfixed by the sight of Mr. Hyperski being loaded into the huge smelting chute next to the dock by the magnet.

"what,,,,,,,the fuck!!!,,,,,,,,bastard,,,,,,,,,,,shit,,,,,,fukin,,,,,,,let,,,,,,,,,,,,me,,,,,fukin,,,,,go,,,,,,asshole,,,,,,got,,,,,me,,,,,two,,,,,,,,fukin,,,,,balls,,,,,,,,,,,," he was screaming.

"Do you need some help?" I yelled out to him.

"fukin,,,,,tanks,,,,,,but,,,,,,no,,,,,,fukin,,,,,,tanks,,,,,,!" was all he screamed as he gave me the TechDiver "Are you O.K?" sign with both hands.

I guess he felt that he didn't need tanks for where he was going, but was still concerned that I was truly "O.K"... Poodle was running down the dock to help him. "He's all right, Poodle" I said as she passed. "He gave me the TechDiver O.K. Sign..." She gave me a funny look. "You truly are a Rotten Lousy Bastard" she yelled as continued to run toward the fiery hot smelter that Hyperski was being dumped into.

This, I must admit, really shocked me.

I had no idea that Poodle was a TechDiver, and as such, privy to TechDiver slogans. "Will wonders never cease", I thought to myself.

By now, McKenney had the submarine out of the shipping container, and sitting on the launch platform.

"Time for your journey to begin, Dude...." McKenney said to me.

"YOU'RE GOIN' FUCKIN' DOOOOOWWWWNNN!!!" Kato was yelling at me, as he danced in circles. His wooden leg fell off during his dance, and he came crashing down on the dock. His mood changed perceptibly. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!!!" was what he screamed now, as he grabbed his wooden leg and began beating it on the dock. "CHEAP-ASS PIECE OF SHIT!!!" he yelled as he beat the dock with his leg.

"What's wrong with his leg?" I asked McKenney. "Carmichael made it for him. Called it the 'Prozac'. Supposed to be the height in wooden-leg technology" he said. "It's two inches too long, and weighs 85 pounds without the rubber cup on the bottom" he said.

"Quit your bitchin, Kato! I told you Dick King is building you another one - it should be here in a couple of weeks" he yelled to him. This seemed to cheer Kato up a bit, and he managed to compose himself with only a few more uttered expletives.

We then set sail for the island of Molokini. Once we got there, Kato began the process of preparing the submarine for launch. First, he loaded it into the water. Immediately, the wall of the sub began to look like it was absorbing water.

"Is it safe?" I asked my friend McKenney. "Sure, Dude. See, water is non-compressible, so the sub takes on a lot of water, which can't be compressed, so it can go deeper. It's all very Technical... Robinette consulted with some Australians who build their own rebreathers about how to design it. They do this all the time down there..."

"Well, you and Mr. Kato ARE the technical geniuses around here" I said. He just smiled and said "You know, its gonna be our PLEASURE to take care of you for good, Dude..."

Well, I almost started crying. Not only did I realize then how important I was to my friends McKenney and Kato, but he had flatly stated that he would be working for me for the rest of his life. I was touched.

Kato was now in the water with the Submarine. He had several long tubes next to him that were stenciled "US MILITARY : DANGER! PLASTIQUE C-4 : HANDLE WITH CARE."

"What are those?" I asked McKenney. "Special propulsion devices we got from Peter Readey and his buddies at NEDU" he said.

"Will they make the sub go fast?" I asked.

"Fast enough for a trip to Venus" he said, and started to laugh. He is such a jokester! He knows that I'm not going UP, but DOWN. I must admit that the joke was rather clever, and I couldn't help but laugh too.

Kato tossed up a strange coiled rope to McKenney, which he caught. "Careful with that!" Kato said. "It's wired" and ready to send our friend... straight....To....THE FUCKING BOWELS OF HELL!!!!!" he screamed.

"Shut your damn CAKE-HOLE, YOU IDIOT!!!" McKenney yelled at Kato. I could tell that in their excitement, they were both getting a bit edgy...

"What's wired?" I asked McKenney. "Oh, we need to have a hookup so we can watch what happens to you down below..." he replied.

Kato, still smarting from McKenney's tart comment to him, was trying to manipulate one of the long C-4 tubes on the side of the submarine with the hook he had for a right hand. "Shit! FUCK!!!" He was shrieking. "Fuckin' piece of SHIT!!!" he continued to yell at the submarine.

"Shut the fuck up!" yelled McKenney at Kato. "Carmichael made Kato's hook as well. Told him he could build him a hand just like a real one, but it wouldn't be very Hogarth..." I understood completely, since I had, myself, studied the Hogarthian method of diving under my friends tutelage.

Just then, Kato's wooden leg became lodged between one of the C-4 tubes and the Submarine. It came off with a "pop" sound. "GODDAMMIT TO HELL!!!" Kato began to howl.

"I said SHUT UP, you asshole!" yelled McKenney

Kato ignored McKenney, and grabbed his wooden leg with his good hand. "Fuckin' Irvine and Carmichael PROMISED me a new leg!!!!" he screamed while banging the wooden leg on the side of the sub. "Said I'd have the 'end of the line' with this PIECE OF SHIT!!!!"

"STOP THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW, YOU STUPID BASTARD!!!" yelled McKenney. But Kato wasn't listening. He kept banging his wooden leg against the sub, his pony-tail and bandana flying to and fro. Suddenly, he smashed the mooring rig that tied the submarine to the boat. The submarine began to float away from the boat.

"YOU DAMNED IDIOT - YOU'LL RUIN EVERYTHING!!!!" screamed McKenney, as he jumped into the ocean to stop Kato from smashing any more of the sub in his rage against his wooden leg.

Just when I was about to comment on my friend Kato, and my recommendation that he cut down on the caffeine, I was interrupted by a loud splashing sound coming from about two hundred meters away.

When I looked at the source of the sound through my solid gold binoculars, I was amazed to see that it was Rich Pyle swimming like a madman. His arms were flailing so fast that he must have been moving through the water at about 20 knots. I'd never seen anything, human or animal, swim that fast.

I then noticed that behind him, by about 20 feet, was the Eliott Brothers sitting on Dr. Heseltine's chest, Bill was manipulating the box that was strapped to Dr. Heseltine, and connected to Pyle.

As they got closer, I heard Paul yelling at Bill. "Its MY turn to make him swim!!" "No WAY!" I heard Bill reply, "It's STILL my turn" he said.

"No its NOT!!!" yelled Paul. All the while, Dr. Heseltine didn't seem to mind being used as a human Jet-Ski. When his head wasn't underwater, he would take long swigs from the bottle of Ripple, which he held in his hand with a death-grip.

I waved to them all.

"GIMME!!! Its MY Turn!!!" I heard Paul yell, as he grabbed for the controls. "No WAY!" screamed Bill as he tried to take his brothers hand off the controls. They began to fight viciously for control of the box, while Dr. Heseltine tried to hold on to the bottle. Suddenly, it slipped out of his hand, and into the substantial wake behind them. "CDF! CDF!!!!" Heseltine began to scream with water streaming out of his nose and mouth. I quickly grabbed my official TechDiver book of phrases supplied to me by the IANTD and found CDF: "Catastrophic Drink Failure: When a diver loses his alcoholic beverage prior to complete ingestion of the fluid."

"What a tragedy" I thought to myself...

The fight over control of Pyles box was having quite an effect on Pyle's swimming. He kept turning right, then left, then spinning like a dolphin. Finally, Paul punched Bill in the arm. Bill began to cry. "I'm gonna tell MOM that you hit me!" he screamed. Ignoring him, Paul seized the controls, and put Pyle into a sharp Right turn. Pyle picked up the pace of his swimming, and was now going about 35 knots, dragging Dr. Heseltine, the crying Bill, and Paul through the water directly toward Kato and McKenney.

Kato was now laying on his back on the Submarine, and McKenney was beating him with his own wooden leg when both of them looked up to see the fast approaching Pyle and Co.

"SHIT....SHIT....SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!" They both screamed as they tried to get away from the fast moving Pyle.

Just then, I noticed that Pyle had got the line that Kato tossed up from the submarine to McKenney caught in his teeth. Pyle continued to swim in circles around the sub, pulling the line tighter and tighter.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" screamed Kato, trying to swim away from the submarine by pushing off of McKenney. McKenney grabbed Kato by the pony-tail, and pulled him back to beat him some more with the wooden leg.

Pyle now had the submarine spinning in circles so fast that it had set up its own vortex in the sea. The last sight I saw of my friends was McKenney beating Kato with the leg, while Bill was slapping Pauls arm trying to get him to relinquish control of the box. As they all went down into the whirlpool together, they looked up at me and gave me the TechDiver "Are you O.K?" sign. McKenney's was the last voice I heard...


And then, he was gone.

I stood there for a few minutes, rather bothered. What exactly did McKenney mean by "you'll pay for this?" After all, the submarine was supposed to be a gift, and I didn't even get to ride in it. Before I could think much more about it, the seafloor suddenly erupted with a huge explosion. I guess the C-4 tubes had gone off at depth.

The explosion was so powerful that volcanic vents erupted on Molokini itself, spewing hot steam into the air. "Good grief" I thought.

Luckily, I had decided to purchase the island before we left California. Turns out, that the volcanic vents set off by the explosion created an entire system of hot springs along the island, which I'm now developing as a 5 Star resort with Mr. Edward Kuok of the Shangri-La Group. I should bring in about $300 Million a year from the resort alone, not to mention the new harbor formed by the crater from the explosion, but it'll cost me about $20 million to develop it.

So now I understand McKenney's last words to me...

I am amazed at how prophetic this wonderful man can be, and as I headed back to the mainland, with a beautiful young maiden I met on the beach named "Jules," I knew that one day soon, I would hear that familiar knock on my door, and I would see my friend McKenney again...

I can hardly wait...