If your Ford had a Matthew McConaughey, it would be a Lincoln

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Picture by Jim Ellwanger, Flickr

They told me when I put down the rubles for a gently used Oscar-II class nuclear-powered cruise-missile submarine I couldn’t make any money off of my investment. But they were still stuck in the old economy, before the advent of our Holy Mother Airbnb.

Now, before you assume that a used submarine must have something wrong with it, I have to stop you right there. Besides a few dents from the occasional naval trainee learning to parallel park, it really was in excellent shape. Even the mechanic who inspected it seemed fairly impressed after reluctantly putting down his Geiger - he took a whole bunch of pictures of every nook and cranny to “share with his buddies.” Whatever, dude.

A few trips to Home Depot later, and I had what I figured was a pretty rockin’ hipster hotel, if I do say so myself. Every room dripped (literally, the humidity in this thing is incredible) with a rich tapestry of pastel colours. Hand-lettered greasepaint inspirational sayings dot the walls of the tenant rooms. I even topped it off by welding a bike rack into the conning tower.

My first few tenants were excellent. They left great reviews, focusing on my attention to customer service. Some of them took great pains to mention how invigorating commuting to work by way of the torpedo tubes could be. Sure, there was the occasional crufty bicycle mechanic that wanted to tinker with the reactors, but buying a better combination lock eventually put an end to that.

I was on top of the world, so flush with cash that paying off the Kursk condo would be faster than I had ever imagined.


Imagine my surprise when those meddlers at NATO came around. Not even leaving a chocolate mint on the pillow could improve my reviews with those guys. Have you ever seen the tow and impound bill for a five-hundred-foot-long attack submarine before?

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