Thursday, April 5, 2007

Moby Squish

We'd been out to sea for forty days, a hearty whaling crew we were, but we had no idea where we were, exactly, having, uh, accidentally thrown our captain and everybody who could read the starry shingles and contrabuflate our position overboard not even three days out of the harbor after we learned of their mad plans to hunt the White Whale.

And the wind was weak, and the sky was clear as glass, and the sun was shining down on the deck all over-bright and hot, and we were getting hungry and going mad from watching the sea go up and down and listening to the boat creak and the sails flap.

And that's when the giant squid first latched itself on to the front of our ill-fated ship, 'cause I guess it thought our ship was a female giant squid or something, damn thing was all humping up on it with all these gross suction noises and stuff.

And because the damned creature was so massive, and because it had grabbed on to the front of the boat, the back end of the boat came up in the air, and all the cargo smashed down into the front of the boat, and we suddenly had a lot less floor space.

And even worse, the gods-accursed thing wouldn't let go, so we had to rearrange our hammocks and try to sleep through that rhythmic torture of the damned with the boat tipped up on its nose like that.

And even worse than that, every once in a while, after twelve hours of mating with our ship and such, the squid would let her go, and we'd all tumble all about the inside of the boat as the ship righted itself.


And there was no way we were going anywhere with that thing attached to the front of the boat that way, it was acting like a giant anchor, see.

Oh sure, we had One Eyed Jack try to poke the thing with a harpoon, trust me, you don't even wanna hear what happened to that poor bloke, I'm doing ye a favor leaving that bloody bit of gristle outta my story so ye'll be able to eat yer dinner.

Yar, and so we all started praying to our heathen gods and saying stuff about how we'd change our lives and become good honest citizens and whatnot if they'd only let us get away from this horrible beast.

And of course the all-knowing gods heard our prayers, and so they sent a second giant squid who started humping up on the backside of the boat.

Which at least set the boat a-right, ye know, as long as they were both going at it at the same time, but whenever one of 'em found release and let us go, we'd all go crashing to one side of the boat or the other along with all the pots and pans.

And then five minutes later, they'd be right back at it again.

In all seriousness, I was just glad our poor boat seemed to be holding herself together, since she wasn't exactly designed to operate as the love interest of two giant squids.

Well, this woulda went on forever, if a Sperm Whale hadn't eventually showed up and saved us after being cursed to I dunno how many days and nights of riding on the over-worked back of a squid's whore.

Yar, see, Sperm Whales eat them Giant Squids.

And as bad in shape as we were, and as bad in shape as our poor boat was after all that exhausting sexual effort, we eventually found dry land.

And so I'll never hunt whales again.

Hell, I'll never set my one good foot in a boat again.

And I've made up my mind to just live out the rest of my days in safety here with these fine island folk, these Carribals, Cannerballs, whatever the Mad Spaniard calls 'em, sure, they seem glad enough to have our company.

I fer one can't wait till their done heating up that hot bath for me.

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