and your days go by , slow as shit , reveille-supply-deck office-liberty that sucks now that you are out of money and walking the flight deck on security with a shotgun on your shoulder that you fired maybe ten times and are still not sure exactly how it works yet , and you find yourself standing on the quarterdeck two nights later as petty officer of the watch with the .45 hanging down from the gun belt with the magazines in their little holders and you are aware of the greasy black bullets in the gun but not chambered , not ready to fire , grab-assing a little and shooting the shit with mr. pensquod [ 133 ] , some preppy rotc shit straight out of college with big round glasses who is down in engineering and taking a lot of shit from mms [ 134 ] and the bts [ 135 ] and you are giving him some advice on how to listen to his chief but carefully , like it is something you learned because you cant tell an officer how to do things .