Between the 2 of us, we strain to lift up Jason’s milk can – first up and over the edge – then slowly we ease it down into the chest freezer.

I look down and run my fingers across the cold wet letters punched into the can’s metal lid.


“Dunno Tuck,” Jason replies, “…an old dairy farm, I suppose.”

It seems the original meaning of the Maker’s mark has long broke free from the moorings of collective memory.

And so she was left adrift for years on the CRYS’tal blue Sea of Anonymity – until this day, when she finally returned to Home Port – her utility intact but no crew aboard. Her only cargo, the Secret, safely left untold.

“What it IS, my bye….is a sign.” I say quietly.



6 thoughts on “BERMUDA CRYS’tal

  1. I got one of these also free from a yard sale. Can you tell me anything about it? Bermuda Crys???? Acee Co on side?

  2. you’ve got the makings of a party platform there sir Randy – (and a raver loves a party!) ………………but can Rabbit Island support another party?

    1. We can always support another party, Jamestown Bob; the question as we grow older is: can Rabbit Island handle another hangover? And the answer is: Yes! Fortunately we have ingrown the fortitude and the rugged resistance to maladroit maladies. Here in Harrington Sound we are just super. And handsome, too.

      1. Let us forget the spilled rum. We must cry when the spilled milk extinguishes the fire in our spliff. That is up until the Ravers spark new life with new flame: then our spirits soar once more. Praise be to Allah, etc.

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