To many of you, my "Last Dive" series will be familiar. I don’t exactly know why I write these, except to say that they are usually triggered by what I read on the Rebreather or TechDiver lists from time to time. I guess every now and again, I go a little bit insane, and have to get it out of my system.

I only write about friends, or good acquaintances, or people on the periphery of my consciousness, and try to honestly apply equal malice toward all concerned. Each of the people I include in these stories are excellent divers, so this is my opportunity to express my admiration and jealousy at the same time...

My primary character is my very good friend and partner, John McKenney. Over the years we have developed a very good appreciation of each others abilities as both divers and filmmakers. But John still manages to snake the good seats on most airlines we fly, leaving me to sit next to the 400 lb. sweaty German - so I retaliate by having him blown up, eaten by Orca’s etc.. in these stories. He’s a very good sport about this series, but still won’t give up the good seat on the airplane...

Rod Farb is also a central character in the series, since he and McKenney are constantly trying to come up with creative ways to end my diving career, both in the stories, and to some degree, in real life (as evidenced by the fact that the three of us are going to the Arctic this coming April to dive below 6 feet of ice).

Any individuals inclusion in this series is not a reflection of their views, their diving practices, their professionalism, or their sex appeal to my girlfriends. They simply serve as characters who happen to have the names of real people, and who all, at one point have probably wanted me to "sleep with the fishes..." If you are NOT included in this story, it is because I forgot. I write these things in about an hour and a half, and am a bit crazed when I do so.

I also try hard to disparage all equipment vendors equally, whenever possible. Lets face it, if it’s YOUR machine I’m making fun of you hate it - if it’s the OTHER guys...

For those of you who are NOT familiar with these stories, you can find most of them, in sequence, at >www.divenet.com< under "Diving with the Dude". Tracy Robinette maintains that web site for his company, and has given me an outlet for my humor. Most of these tales are derivative of previous stories in the sequence, so you may have to read up on the last ones to "get" some of the references in the new ones, especially where personal injuries are concerned...

It also helps to know the characters (that’s why I use real names). Your aunt Edna won’t understand these stories at all...

The only statements I can make for these stories is that they are the creation of my own distorted mind, and nothing in here ever really happened. Well, most of it anyway... I don’t get paid to write this stuff, I get paid to write documentaries where no humor is tolerated.

I also get to use a little profanity here, which I try to keep "in character" so as not to be gratuitous... But then, I think I’m the only character who doesn’t swear in these stories... Hell, I don’t even smoke in ‘em... So, yeah, there’s some swearing in here - tell the kids to leave the room while you read it... I apologise in advance to any sensitive readers.

Also, no animals, (besides my dog) were needlessly tortured during the writing of this story...

I hope you like it.

Kevin

"...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, California, 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 8^th 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 Rod Farb was there! I hadn’t seen Rod 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.

Rod was on board with his new girlfriend, TwoPinks. 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 Rod. 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, NimRod?" (I had used the TechDiver nickname that McKenney told me Rod 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 Rod 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, NimRod - 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 TwoPinks 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 an unusual 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...

"Screw HIM - it was MY idea" I heard someone behind me shout. "NO, It was MY idea!" yelled another voice. I turned around to see the two Eliott Brothers standing there.

"YOU didn’t invent SHIT" yelled Bill Eliott.

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

"I wrote the friggin’ CODE, Ass-munch!" 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 t’hell with 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 Farb.

"...Told the stupid bastard to pay extra for the non-magnetic hip replacement..." 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"... TwoPinks was running down the dock to help him. "He’s allright, Pinks" 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 TwoPinks 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!!!" Farb 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, Farb-o! I told you Dick King is building you another one - he PROMISED it would be here in a couple of weeks" he yelled to Rod. This seemed to cheer Rod 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, Farb 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. Farb 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 Farb, but he had flatly stated that he would be working for me for the rest of his life. I was touched.

Farb 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. "NEDU?" I asked. "Yup - Navy Experimental Diving Unit - that’s where Pete gets all his stuff..." he said with a smile.

"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.

Farb tossed up a strange coiled rope to McKenney, which he caught. "Careful with that!" Farb 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 Farb. 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.

Farb, 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 hell up!" yelled McKenney at Farb. "Carmichael made Farb’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, Farb’s wooden leg became lodged between one of the C-4 tubes and the Submarine. It came off again with a "pop" sound. "GODDAMMIT TO HELL!!!" Farb began to howl.

"I said SHUT UP, you asshole!" yelled McKenney Farb 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 Farb wasn’t listening. He kept banging his wooden leg against the sub, his pony-tail 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 Farb from smashing any more of the sub in his rage against his wooden leg.

Just when I was about to comment on my friend Farb, 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 of Ripple.

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 Farb and McKenney.

Farb 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 Farb 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 Farb, trying to swim away from the submarine by pushing off of McKenney. McKenney grabbed Farb 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 Farb 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...

"You’ll PAY for this DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODD......"

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.

Hal Gartner had urged me to take out a very large insurance policy on my friends, Farb and McKenney, since he’s my personal attorney, and even suggested that I take a special policy on Farb’s wooden leg, so I wound up netting about $25 more million from that alone. Hal’s also going to sue everyone he can think of to cover the pain and suffering that TwoPinks felt while watching Mr. Hyperski get turned into a Toyota...

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: "You’ll pay for this, doooood".

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...