The Spirit of Calypso.
Who: Mikey Where: The Storage Hold When: The morning after [without the hangover] the ship left port. What: G- Mikey discovers the cost of a free meal.
Mikey's first sign that something just wasn't right was the warmth of the enclosed space. The temperature continued to rise inside the container even as he pushed aside the boards that covered the opening of the crate that he had used. Still slightly groggy from the longer than normal sleep it took a few minutes, after he placed his hands on the floor, to realize that it was neither the splinters of a wooden dock nor the cold of concrete that met them.
He whispered words of consternation as he crawled halfway out of the opening. Luckily for him the crates weren't pushed so tightly against each other that he was able to twist and tumble himself the rest of the way out. His eyes were finally getting used to the darkened storage area and by the feel of the deck below his feet he knew that he had inadvertantly boarded a ship.
He slipped off his shoes and nodded to himself. As he thought. A ship that, by the feel of an engines thrum, was already underway. Whoops. Definitely not the best idea around these docks.
The storage room was huge! He decided he would have to look around and see if he could get out into the sunlight again. Being trapped in the dark was not the most pleasant of experiences. He would do that once he was able to. He dropped his ass onto the nearest crate and rubbed the feeling back into his thigh and calf muscles. Wow. He needed to stretch out his limbs again from the confined space. He eyed the container that he had crawled into that launched him on his voyage. He needed more room perhaps if he pushed one of the crates further away it would free up some room in which to hunker down during the nights. That would have to wait til later, after he could figure out what [and where] the heck he had gotten himself into.
He felt along the walls and found with relief a small bathroom area where he was able to clean up a little bit. Being clean always made someone feel better. Food obviously once a problem as he discovered that most of the crates including his own contained that. When he heard the door open above he broke into a barefooted run back to his hidey-hole. He had just began to creep down the row of crates where he had originally emerged from when the overhead lights of portions of the storageroom snapped on. He gave a muffled sigh in relief when the ones above him seemed to be burned out. It gave him time to drop to the floor and scuttle back to safety.
The creak of the boards rubbing against nails, as he closed up the slats behind himself, echoed loudly inside the quiet of the room.