Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
- Location
- Vancouver, Washington
And now a word from Jersey's BIGGEST fan...
Because yes, I can see the Taffies deciding to watch a Godzilla marathon and Jersey and Musashi having to put their 2 cents in on it.
Because yes, I can see the Taffies deciding to watch a Godzilla marathon and Jersey and Musashi having to put their 2 cents in on it.
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still_guns
For the Empire!
- Location
- Bridge of ISS Conundrum
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
"Yeah, big stompy Kaiju're fun and all, but we all know I could kill him."
"HA! I, Musashi, believe you are speaking from your sizable and squeezable posterior!"
"Please, if anyone's taking the piss it's y-wait, what was that about my ass?"
Imma Floridian! I worry about neither of these things! I only worry about getting a job and dying from over-exposure to Florida!
Rajvik_wolfboy
Wolf amongst the stars.
- Location
- Florida
As someone who lives in the northwest part of the state I have to agree, both are overrated
*Fistbumps*
Panhandle Represent!
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
You two are lucky the perfect clip joke for this is not available on youtube.
Only Bugs Bunny possesses the power to get rid of Florida that easily.
You guys are stuck with us.
Forever.
Whether you can tolerate us or not.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
I found a dude with the editing skills and connections to do so.
Well, if we lost you, then Radio Dead Air would go out of business!/obscure reference
... I have not kept of with WTFIWWY Live, but I would not be surprised if that has been featured as a story.
Now watch someone perform eldritch and arcane rituals to break the dimensional barriers and summon Bugs Bunny into this world.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
*Is fighting the temptation to post the lewd picture which explains why Florida is the way it is and why Canada is at fault*
Spectre
eternal servant to the Fire/EMS gods
- Location
- NY
we tried that with NYC, doesn't work.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
You have to be in Hollywood for that.
Spectre
eternal servant to the Fire/EMS gods
- Location
- NY
I meant the saw part. We've been trying to push them into the ocean (or at least to New Jersey) since the turn of last century.
As fun as this is, I think that I've caused too much of a digression for the thread.
Unless JMPer is planning on using Floridabotes any time soooooooon?
Unless JMPer is planning on using Floridabotes any time soooooooon?
Spectre
eternal servant to the Fire/EMS gods
- Location
- NY
I doubt the battleship will show up given that she's basically in the same boat as Arizona.
Drake's likely referring to Pensacola and/or her sister Salt Lake City.
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
Precisely. Pensacola is a Florida Woman (Homo floridians) at its finest. SLC is little different. Both might have piss poor armor, but they took one hell of a beating and somehow kept going. Their story actually happens to be archived on this very site.
NothingNow
Corpse Wrangler
- Location
- Tampa
Well, at least that's something good. Every other Florida related ship was kinda unremarkable.
Miami spent pretty much the entire war on escort duty, and isn't exactly notable.
Suwannee was at the Battle of the Philippine Sea as part of Taffy 1 though, which is something I guess.
The one with the stereotypes!
- Location
- 'Murica
Heavy Cruiser Prinz Eugen of the Kre—of the United States Navy shuffled out of her Admiral's office as quickly as her shaking legs could take her. Her shoes scuffed against the flooring and she didn't even bother to stifle the raspy cough rattling up her fouled-over windpipe. She felt miserable, and not just because of the wretched state of her boilers.
Her friends had come back. Spee, and Scheer, and even Lutzow. Prinz Eugen felt a tiny smile flicker across her face at the memory of her old friends. Only… only they weren'ther old friends.
They'd come back wrong. Twisted. Evil. Nazi. Prinz Eugen had all but blown up in her Admiral's face at that accusation. She knew her friends! They were proud warriors, and yes, they served Germany. But because it was their duty! They weren't enamored with that little corporal any more than she was!
And then he showed her the pictures. Panzerschiffs steaming in line astern with swastikas proudly flying from their masts. It made her sick to see such honorable girls twisted into something so irredeemably evil. It was a good thing her rifles weren't loaded, she didn't think she could've held her fire.
But the anger was gone now, the void filled up by loneliness and despair. If that's what happened to her friends… Prinz Eugen didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to be alone for however long she lived.
And then she rounded a corner, and nearly ran into another cruiser.
Two of them, actually. Cruisers of a clearly American design.
Wearing dirndls and carrying steins of beer.
"Hey," the pretty asian one with the scared-over neck hooked her arm though Prinz Eugen's and stuffed a pretzel into the distraught German girl's mouth. "USS San Fransisco. Call me Frisco."
"And I'm USS St. Louis," said the one with flaming red hair and altogether too many guns strapped around her person. "Cee-Ell-fourty-nine, not the other one. Call me Lou!" she added in a cheery voice that sounded like honey on warm bread.
"Uh," Prinz Eugen awkwardly pulled the pretzel out of her mouth, "USS Prinz Eugen."
"Oh, we know who you are!" Frisco played with the hem of her skirt. Then she glanced down at her on bodice, then to Prinz Eugen's far more developed upperworks. "You're not treaty-compliant, are you?"
Prinz Eugen shook her head. "S-sorry."
"Psh!" Lou rolled her shoulders in a shrug as enthusiastic as the copper-tinged flicker of her hair. "Ain't nothing to be ashamed about, hun!"
"Yeah," Frisco took a sip from her stein and nearly dropped the whole thing. "Hell, that's good."
"What my division mate means," Lou rolled her eyes, "Is that you're on our side, and we could certainly use a super-cruiser."
Frisco just took another sip of beer, "This is, like, really good."
"Told you," Lou giggled and bounced her hip against Prinz Eugen, sending the German girl's hips crashing into Frisco's.
Frisco ignored the sudden jostling, her attention was too focused on her beverage.
Prinz Eugen glanced from one cruiser to the other so fast she started seriously worrying if she was going to get whiplash. "I… what?"
"Oh!" Lou snapped her fingers, "Darn, aren't we getting ahead of ourselves!"
"We're your division mates." Frisco tore her attention from her beer. "At least for the time being."
"That means you're bunking with us!" Lou beamed and gave the stunned German a quick peck on the cheek.
"And we wanted to make you feel welcome," said Frisco.
"Yeah," Lou nodded. "After the war, I got traded to Brazil. So, ah, I know how awkward getting a new country can be."
"And I… well…" Frisco waved her hand over her pretty—though decidedly Japanese—features with a shrug. "Yeah."
"So if there's anything we can do," Lou steered the little division towards a low-slung dormitory building, "Just let us know!"
"We're here for you, Pringles," Frisco gave the German a squeezing side-hug.
"I-" Prinz Eugen chewed the air for a minute. She wasn't used to such gratuitous displays of affection—or touching, for that matter. That wasn't to say she didn't like it, but the poor cruiser was so out of her depth she might as well be a submarine on the moon.
"Uh," she scrambled to find something coherent to say even as the Americans shepherded her though the double-doors. She was overwhelmed, but in a good sort of way. It was hard to be unhappy around those two. "D-danke!"
"Ain't nothing!" Lou waved off the thanks with a cherry red blush, and Frisco just dipped her head in thanks.
"It was to me." Prinz Eugen rested her head against the much shorter American's ebony locks. She had friends! Then a thought came to her. "But, um," she glanced from one cruiser's dress to the other's. "Where'd you get those dirndls?"
Frisco and Lou shared a look like she'd just asked if water was wet.
"We're cruisers," said Frisco.
"Of the United States Navy," added Lou.
Prinz Eugen blinked. "Oh. Um. Okay?"
Neither American felt like elaborating further. In any case, the three girls hastily ducked though a door labeled—in swooping handwriting that Prinz Eugen just knew was Lou's—'Frisco & Lou, and Pringles Too!'
Like seemingly everything else in America, the room was bigger than Prinz Eugen was expecting. Three beds were set up against one wall, all shoved together to form a single big cuddle area right underneath one of the windows. Pillows, blankets, and adorable little stuffed animals were strew around the triple bed seemingly at random, though Prinz Eugen noticed a stuffed narwhal occupying a position of pride right in the middle.
The other wall was dominated by another window with three desks setup in a U-shape. One shined with pristine, freshly-dusted wood. But the other two were all but drowning in half-finished model kits, paint bottles, books, and oddly-shaped dice.
And of course, the air smelled suspiciously of sausage.
"W-wow," Prinz Eugen smiled as she soaked it all in.
"I know!" Frisco planted her hands on her hips and smiled at the happy German. "I was the first cruiser back, so naturally I picked the corner room!"
"Way to go," Lou held up her fist, which Frisco didn't even need to look at to bump. "Only the best for KanCruDiv 1!"
"Mmhm!" Frisco nodded sagely.
Prinz Eugen spun on her heel, her itty bitty skirt flaring up over her short spats—one of the few modifications she'd received after being turned over to the American Navy. "Thank you!" She beamed and pulled the two much shorter Americans in for a tight hug.
"Oof!" Lou's nose slammed into her collar bone, and Frisco's face all but disappeared into her chest.
Prinz Eugen was so happy to have friends again, she almost didn't notice the New Orleans-class frantically slapping at her flank. "Oh, sorry," She let the two Americans go from their hug.
Frisco staggered back with a gasp. "N- not treaty!"
Lou giggled and tossed a swat at the other cruiser. "So, Pringles!"
"Ja?" Prinz Eugen reflexively snapped to proper Prussian attention.
"You must be hungry, right?" Lou stifled a giggle and fished a heaping plate of warm sausage, oven fresh pretzels, and stone-ground mustard from under her desk. "I'm more a seafood girl myself," she shrugged, "But I did my best. I hope it tastes like home!"
Prinz Eugen nodded, her cheeks already puckering up from her smile. "It smells like home! Danke!"
"Awww…" Lou's smile turned utterly gooey as Prinz Eugen wolfed down a sausage. "You're so cute when she says that."
Prinz Eugen blushed, and sheepishly stuffed another sausage into her mouth.
"Hey, Gale. You're gay right?"
Yeoman Sarah Gale glanced up from her half-finished spaghetti only to find the toweringly gigantic figure of Battleship New Jersey staring back at her, looking utterly frantic. "You know," she sighed, "I can't imagine any possible situation in which this ends well for me, but yes. I am a lesbian."
It took Jersey a second to process what she'd said, then the battleship just shrugged and moved on. "Okay cool. I'm going on a date, and I need something classy to wear."
A few seats down the table, Yeoman Bowers smiled and passed Gale a twenty.
"Okay," Gale sighed, "And… you're coming to me with this?"
"Duh," Jersey shook her head like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Jersey, I wear cammies all the damn time," Gale shook her head, "Why are you coming to me for fashion advice."
"'cause you're gay," said the battleship with genuine confusion.
Bowers snorted back a laugh and ended up spewing milk through her nose. Gale shot her so-called friend a dirty look.
"What?" Jersey glanced between the two sailors, "Is- is that not how it works?"
"No!" Gale caught herself knife-handing the giant battleship girl and hurriedly stuffed her hand under the table. "That- I…" She scowled and trailed off with a huff.
"So…" Jersey scratched her temple, "I'm confused."
"I can help!" Yeoman Bowers scooted over and offered the battleship her hand. "Jen Bowers, I'm not sure we've met."
"Bowers," Jersey shook as gently as she could manage, "Nice to meet you. Are you lesbian?"
Gale's spaghetti let out a quiet 'splort' as the sailor face-planted in what was left of her dinner.
Jersey and Bowers glanced at her for a moment.
"Is she okay?" asked the battleship.
"Probably yes," guessed the sailor.
Jersey shrugged, "Good enough for me!"
"And by the way," added Bowers, "I'm not."
Jersey blinked. "Not what?"
"Gay."
The battleship scrunched up her brow, then shrugged off this new earth-shattering information. "Oh, okay."
Bowers bit her lip and glanced over the towering battleship's figure. "I have been meaning to ask though… why do you wear that vest?"
Jersey fingered the hem of her puffer vest, "Keeps me warm, I guess?"
"Yeah, but why a down vest?" Bowers pulled a notepad out of her fatigue pocket and scribbled down some notes, "The puffiness is hell on your figure."
"It is?" Jersey unzipped her vest and held it open a little. Yeah, her waist was quite a bit smaller without all the padding, but it wasn't that noticeable, was it?
"Jersey," Bowers smiled, "You've got a body most girls would kill for, why don't you show it off?"
"Uh," the battleship blinked, "I thought I was."
Bowers just laughed, "No no…" The sailor sucked on the tip of her pencil and trailed off in thought. "A running vest! Something sleek, it'd keep the same line, but let you show off your boobs."
Jersey glanced down with a frown. "Yeah, but mine are-"
"Yours are not small!" Gale burst from her meal like a pasta-sauce-covered submarine breaching the waves after a ballast blow. "Yours are big, and perky, and you're only grouchy because you're dumb."
Jersey blinked.
Gale, however, was too full of steaming rage to let up, "You don't know what average is!" She grabbed the battleship's hands and clapped them to her own, rather smaller, breasts, "These! These are average."
Jersey blinked again.
Gale suddenly blushed a brilliant red and bolted for the door.
"Uh…" Jersey was left groping the air. "Bowers?"
"Ma'am?"
"You saw that too, right?"
Bowers nodded, "She's been on edge recently."
Jersey gave the sailor a confused look, "Any idea why?"
"I think it's Wash related."
The battleship smiled as the universe suddenly snapped back into proper order. "Ooooh, okay, that makes sense."
"So," Bowers stuffed her hands into her pockets and shrugged. "You still want fashion advice?"
Jersey nodded, "Really a lot."
Bowers glanced up and down the towering battleship's figure once more, and scribbled a few more notes on her pad. "Swing by my place around… threeish. I should have some options for you."
"Awesome!" Jersey lifted the sailor up in a tight hug. "Thanks!"
Bowers grunted something in reply with the scant few dozen molecules of air left in her lungs.
Her friends had come back. Spee, and Scheer, and even Lutzow. Prinz Eugen felt a tiny smile flicker across her face at the memory of her old friends. Only… only they weren'ther old friends.
They'd come back wrong. Twisted. Evil. Nazi. Prinz Eugen had all but blown up in her Admiral's face at that accusation. She knew her friends! They were proud warriors, and yes, they served Germany. But because it was their duty! They weren't enamored with that little corporal any more than she was!
And then he showed her the pictures. Panzerschiffs steaming in line astern with swastikas proudly flying from their masts. It made her sick to see such honorable girls twisted into something so irredeemably evil. It was a good thing her rifles weren't loaded, she didn't think she could've held her fire.
But the anger was gone now, the void filled up by loneliness and despair. If that's what happened to her friends… Prinz Eugen didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to be alone for however long she lived.
And then she rounded a corner, and nearly ran into another cruiser.
Two of them, actually. Cruisers of a clearly American design.
Wearing dirndls and carrying steins of beer.
"Hey," the pretty asian one with the scared-over neck hooked her arm though Prinz Eugen's and stuffed a pretzel into the distraught German girl's mouth. "USS San Fransisco. Call me Frisco."
"And I'm USS St. Louis," said the one with flaming red hair and altogether too many guns strapped around her person. "Cee-Ell-fourty-nine, not the other one. Call me Lou!" she added in a cheery voice that sounded like honey on warm bread.
"Uh," Prinz Eugen awkwardly pulled the pretzel out of her mouth, "USS Prinz Eugen."
"Oh, we know who you are!" Frisco played with the hem of her skirt. Then she glanced down at her on bodice, then to Prinz Eugen's far more developed upperworks. "You're not treaty-compliant, are you?"
Prinz Eugen shook her head. "S-sorry."
"Psh!" Lou rolled her shoulders in a shrug as enthusiastic as the copper-tinged flicker of her hair. "Ain't nothing to be ashamed about, hun!"
"Yeah," Frisco took a sip from her stein and nearly dropped the whole thing. "Hell, that's good."
"What my division mate means," Lou rolled her eyes, "Is that you're on our side, and we could certainly use a super-cruiser."
Frisco just took another sip of beer, "This is, like, really good."
"Told you," Lou giggled and bounced her hip against Prinz Eugen, sending the German girl's hips crashing into Frisco's.
Frisco ignored the sudden jostling, her attention was too focused on her beverage.
Prinz Eugen glanced from one cruiser to the other so fast she started seriously worrying if she was going to get whiplash. "I… what?"
"Oh!" Lou snapped her fingers, "Darn, aren't we getting ahead of ourselves!"
"We're your division mates." Frisco tore her attention from her beer. "At least for the time being."
"That means you're bunking with us!" Lou beamed and gave the stunned German a quick peck on the cheek.
"And we wanted to make you feel welcome," said Frisco.
"Yeah," Lou nodded. "After the war, I got traded to Brazil. So, ah, I know how awkward getting a new country can be."
"And I… well…" Frisco waved her hand over her pretty—though decidedly Japanese—features with a shrug. "Yeah."
"So if there's anything we can do," Lou steered the little division towards a low-slung dormitory building, "Just let us know!"
"We're here for you, Pringles," Frisco gave the German a squeezing side-hug.
"I-" Prinz Eugen chewed the air for a minute. She wasn't used to such gratuitous displays of affection—or touching, for that matter. That wasn't to say she didn't like it, but the poor cruiser was so out of her depth she might as well be a submarine on the moon.
"Uh," she scrambled to find something coherent to say even as the Americans shepherded her though the double-doors. She was overwhelmed, but in a good sort of way. It was hard to be unhappy around those two. "D-danke!"
"Ain't nothing!" Lou waved off the thanks with a cherry red blush, and Frisco just dipped her head in thanks.
"It was to me." Prinz Eugen rested her head against the much shorter American's ebony locks. She had friends! Then a thought came to her. "But, um," she glanced from one cruiser's dress to the other's. "Where'd you get those dirndls?"
Frisco and Lou shared a look like she'd just asked if water was wet.
"We're cruisers," said Frisco.
"Of the United States Navy," added Lou.
Prinz Eugen blinked. "Oh. Um. Okay?"
Neither American felt like elaborating further. In any case, the three girls hastily ducked though a door labeled—in swooping handwriting that Prinz Eugen just knew was Lou's—'Frisco & Lou, and Pringles Too!'
Like seemingly everything else in America, the room was bigger than Prinz Eugen was expecting. Three beds were set up against one wall, all shoved together to form a single big cuddle area right underneath one of the windows. Pillows, blankets, and adorable little stuffed animals were strew around the triple bed seemingly at random, though Prinz Eugen noticed a stuffed narwhal occupying a position of pride right in the middle.
The other wall was dominated by another window with three desks setup in a U-shape. One shined with pristine, freshly-dusted wood. But the other two were all but drowning in half-finished model kits, paint bottles, books, and oddly-shaped dice.
And of course, the air smelled suspiciously of sausage.
"W-wow," Prinz Eugen smiled as she soaked it all in.
"I know!" Frisco planted her hands on her hips and smiled at the happy German. "I was the first cruiser back, so naturally I picked the corner room!"
"Way to go," Lou held up her fist, which Frisco didn't even need to look at to bump. "Only the best for KanCruDiv 1!"
"Mmhm!" Frisco nodded sagely.
Prinz Eugen spun on her heel, her itty bitty skirt flaring up over her short spats—one of the few modifications she'd received after being turned over to the American Navy. "Thank you!" She beamed and pulled the two much shorter Americans in for a tight hug.
"Oof!" Lou's nose slammed into her collar bone, and Frisco's face all but disappeared into her chest.
Prinz Eugen was so happy to have friends again, she almost didn't notice the New Orleans-class frantically slapping at her flank. "Oh, sorry," She let the two Americans go from their hug.
Frisco staggered back with a gasp. "N- not treaty!"
Lou giggled and tossed a swat at the other cruiser. "So, Pringles!"
"Ja?" Prinz Eugen reflexively snapped to proper Prussian attention.
"You must be hungry, right?" Lou stifled a giggle and fished a heaping plate of warm sausage, oven fresh pretzels, and stone-ground mustard from under her desk. "I'm more a seafood girl myself," she shrugged, "But I did my best. I hope it tastes like home!"
Prinz Eugen nodded, her cheeks already puckering up from her smile. "It smells like home! Danke!"
"Awww…" Lou's smile turned utterly gooey as Prinz Eugen wolfed down a sausage. "You're so cute when she says that."
Prinz Eugen blushed, and sheepishly stuffed another sausage into her mouth.
—|—|—
"Hey, Gale. You're gay right?"
Yeoman Sarah Gale glanced up from her half-finished spaghetti only to find the toweringly gigantic figure of Battleship New Jersey staring back at her, looking utterly frantic. "You know," she sighed, "I can't imagine any possible situation in which this ends well for me, but yes. I am a lesbian."
It took Jersey a second to process what she'd said, then the battleship just shrugged and moved on. "Okay cool. I'm going on a date, and I need something classy to wear."
A few seats down the table, Yeoman Bowers smiled and passed Gale a twenty.
"Okay," Gale sighed, "And… you're coming to me with this?"
"Duh," Jersey shook her head like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Jersey, I wear cammies all the damn time," Gale shook her head, "Why are you coming to me for fashion advice."
"'cause you're gay," said the battleship with genuine confusion.
Bowers snorted back a laugh and ended up spewing milk through her nose. Gale shot her so-called friend a dirty look.
"What?" Jersey glanced between the two sailors, "Is- is that not how it works?"
"No!" Gale caught herself knife-handing the giant battleship girl and hurriedly stuffed her hand under the table. "That- I…" She scowled and trailed off with a huff.
"So…" Jersey scratched her temple, "I'm confused."
"I can help!" Yeoman Bowers scooted over and offered the battleship her hand. "Jen Bowers, I'm not sure we've met."
"Bowers," Jersey shook as gently as she could manage, "Nice to meet you. Are you lesbian?"
Gale's spaghetti let out a quiet 'splort' as the sailor face-planted in what was left of her dinner.
Jersey and Bowers glanced at her for a moment.
"Is she okay?" asked the battleship.
"Probably yes," guessed the sailor.
Jersey shrugged, "Good enough for me!"
"And by the way," added Bowers, "I'm not."
Jersey blinked. "Not what?"
"Gay."
The battleship scrunched up her brow, then shrugged off this new earth-shattering information. "Oh, okay."
Bowers bit her lip and glanced over the towering battleship's figure. "I have been meaning to ask though… why do you wear that vest?"
Jersey fingered the hem of her puffer vest, "Keeps me warm, I guess?"
"Yeah, but why a down vest?" Bowers pulled a notepad out of her fatigue pocket and scribbled down some notes, "The puffiness is hell on your figure."
"It is?" Jersey unzipped her vest and held it open a little. Yeah, her waist was quite a bit smaller without all the padding, but it wasn't that noticeable, was it?
"Jersey," Bowers smiled, "You've got a body most girls would kill for, why don't you show it off?"
"Uh," the battleship blinked, "I thought I was."
Bowers just laughed, "No no…" The sailor sucked on the tip of her pencil and trailed off in thought. "A running vest! Something sleek, it'd keep the same line, but let you show off your boobs."
Jersey glanced down with a frown. "Yeah, but mine are-"
"Yours are not small!" Gale burst from her meal like a pasta-sauce-covered submarine breaching the waves after a ballast blow. "Yours are big, and perky, and you're only grouchy because you're dumb."
Jersey blinked.
Gale, however, was too full of steaming rage to let up, "You don't know what average is!" She grabbed the battleship's hands and clapped them to her own, rather smaller, breasts, "These! These are average."
Jersey blinked again.
Gale suddenly blushed a brilliant red and bolted for the door.
"Uh…" Jersey was left groping the air. "Bowers?"
"Ma'am?"
"You saw that too, right?"
Bowers nodded, "She's been on edge recently."
Jersey gave the sailor a confused look, "Any idea why?"
"I think it's Wash related."
The battleship smiled as the universe suddenly snapped back into proper order. "Ooooh, okay, that makes sense."
"So," Bowers stuffed her hands into her pockets and shrugged. "You still want fashion advice?"
Jersey nodded, "Really a lot."
Bowers glanced up and down the towering battleship's figure once more, and scribbled a few more notes on her pad. "Swing by my place around… threeish. I should have some options for you."
"Awesome!" Jersey lifted the sailor up in a tight hug. "Thanks!"
Bowers grunted something in reply with the scant few dozen molecules of air left in her lungs.
- Location
- Canada
I cant decide if the first or second part has the most D'aww, but the second is funniest.
Poor Gale is going to strip a gear at this rate.
Poor Gale is going to strip a gear at this rate.