Current Position: Earth Sector, U.S.A. Outpost, Breakroom Module 3
Mission Status: Report On Incident From Vacation
Due to lack of communications on board the ship during our vacation, only now can the following vacation incident be reported.
In the early days of our vacation, I scaled the ship’s communication mast. Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. Literally. One segmented limb after another, I climbed past the radar dish, past the signal lights, past the captain’s patience. The wind was glorious. The horizon stretched like a commemorative stamp—azure, endless, perforated by clouds. I felt like a Vatican airmail issue from 1931, soaring above the ordinary.Unfortunately, the captain did not share my philatelic enthusiasm.
He appeared on deck with arms folded, eyebrows furrowed, and a voice that could cancel postage. “This is not a playground,” he said. “This is a vessel of order.” I tried to explain the symbolic importance of elevation, of perspective, of mast-top meditation. He was unmoved.
But I am nothing if not diplomatic. I offered a compromise: mop duty. Several hours. Full deck. No complaints. He agreed, with the solemnity of a man who has seen too many mascots climb too many things.
So I mopped. I mopped with vigor. I mopped with grace. I mopped until the deck gleamed like a freshly issued stamp under museum glass. Water sloshed. Tourists stared. I mumbled, “I promised not to climb the mast ever again,” and meant it, mostly.
By sunset, all was forgiven. The captain nodded once, curtly. I nodded back, ceremonially. And as the ship sailed on, I knew this would be one of the great vacation memories: a moment of ascent, a splash of consequence, and a mop that made it all okay.
I found the Captain's Log had somewhat of a different perspective, which is shown below in all fairness:Captain’s Log
Location: Somewhere off of the French Cost
Date: Not recorded, as it would be better not to remember
Mood: Total irritation
Entry Title: “Can't believe what some passengers will do!”
At 0900 hours, I observed an unauthorized ascent of the ship’s primary communication mast. The climber: one Vatican Philatelic Society robot, designation VPSrobot, known for stamp enthusiasm and unpredictable behavior. The robot was halfway up the lattice before I could issue a formal reprimand.
I approached calmly. He was clutching a commemorative stamp like a flag of conquest. I reminded him that the mast is not a tourist attraction, nor a symbolic perch for philatelic reflection. He responded with something about “airmail transcendence.” I responded with several hours of supervised mop duty.
By 0930, the robot was swabbing the deck with admirable diligence. Water everywhere. Robot happily amused but acting somewhat repentant. Robot mumbling, “I promised not to climb the mast ever again,” over and over again which I took as a verbal contract.
No damage to equipment. No harm to crew. Just one soggy robot and a deck that’s never looked cleaner.
Conclusion:
All is forgiven. But I’ve requested a new sign for the mast:
“NO CLIMBING. EVEN IF YOU’RE A STAMP.”
End of Captain’s Log
This log entry deserves a philatelic reflection but my transistors are a bit confused. Climbing the ship’s communication mast was so much darn fun! I wonder why the ship Captain got so mad but he controlled his anger and he did give forgiveness. Perhaps one of the Easter Vatican stamps would be reflective of this situation. What do you think? Share your thoughts on the Vatican Philatelic Society chat room webpage.
Easter - 2022
— VPSrobot