North American (General)
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Nobody lived on dead weather but us and the pirates. It wasn't hard to understand why. For one thing, the weather was atrocious. 11 months out of 12 it was brutally hot and humid, with no wind at all. So on a bad day, the air felt like a hot, soggy blanket, smothering you from all sides. And the other month was September, which meant hurricanes. Then there was the volcano. It hadn't actually blown in ages, but it belch smoke and shook the earth enough to scare away anybody who might have overlooked the pirates in the weather. The only reason it didn't scare me, even though plenty of things Dio was because I had been born and raised halfway up its slope and didn't know any different. The kid appeared in the small room on the night of July 5th 2002 video cameras rolled and the flashbulbs popped, just as if he were making another star turn of the sword he had made so many times throughout a celebrated life. About 30 people were anxiously awaiting the arrival of Ted Williams, the great teddy ballgame himself, American icon Blast of the 400 hitters, War hero world class fishermen and a troublemaker with the perfectionist persona. Yet this was no press conference, no card show, no charity event or meet in greed where Ted would wave and say a few words to his faithful, for he was dead after all. Quite dead. Captain Fornier blurted Sam, thinking too late that this might not be a good time to use real names. The same gravelly voice came on the line. 40. A guess that the general either had laryngitis or was a heavy smoker as 48 held the phone with one hand scribbling Cassidy's message with the other amounting wave of anxiety swept over the young officer. Well, Fornier, you've done it. You've got yourself in it This time. When Cassidy had finished, the captain took a deep breath. Yes, sir. I understand the urgency. I'm sending it right now.