Into The Bermuda Triangle
We join the most intellectual crew members on the prow of HMS Buggerall, and they are, Able Seaman Duncan Whitehead, Able Seaman Monkey Woods, and Capable Seawoman cum cake baker, Dora Piebottom, the Whore Of Lyons.
"I don't like this," Monkey says.
"What's that?" Duncan responds.
"Too quiet by far," says Monkey. "If we're gonna bugger up that Hornblower chappie, it strikes me that we're headed in the wrong direction. We should be bearing south forsooth."
"You think you've got problems," Dora Piebottom grumbled. "Think about me for a minute. For starters I'm the only female on this vessel, and not only do I have to cope with the fact that every crew member is lusting after my ass, but I've got to tolerate that Skoob's so-called cooking. Who made that idiot Ship's Cook?"
"You've got a point there," says Duncan. "My leg of lamb last night had a tattoo on the skin that said I Love Hull City."
"Hull City?" Monkey says, somewhat distractedly.
"Hull City," Duncan affirms.
"Strange choice," Monkey says. "Still, each to his own, I supppose."
At which point Earl Grey appears, wandering aimlessly about the deck.
"You okay my friend?" enquires Duncan.
"What? Oh yeah. I'm not too bad, just going through a bit of an identity crisis at the moment."
"How come?" Monkey asks.
"People keep calling me by another name, one which escapes me at the moment, Rusty or something. It's really getting me down."
"Go see Doctor Vic," advises Dora Piebottom. "He'll sort you out."
"Oh, thanks..." mumbles Earl Grey.
"Top of the evening to ya," a voice says. The crew members turn to regard Able Seaman Fergus McCarthy, standing there looking awkward. "I'm not really supposed to be here," he says. "I'm working on other things."
"Me too," says Jesus Budda, before disappearing.
"Guys..." Dora Piebottom says. "Is it just me, or is something strange beginning to occur here?"
"What, you mean this thick somewhat spooky red mist which is quietly and malevolently enveloping the Buggerall even as we speak?" says Monkey.
"Yes. Something along those lines," Dora says.
It was very strange. A deep red tomato souper was indeed slowly enveloping the Buggerall. Phantasmagoric tendrils of red mist appeared to develop a life of their own and probe the very air like wispy skeletal fingers.
"Hang on," says Monkey. "I didn't sign up for this. I don't do horror. I can buckle a swash with the best of 'em, but spooky spectral goings on is beyond my remit."
"WHOA THERE NEDDY!" exclaims Dora.
"Steady on old girl," says Duncan. "You scared the crap out of me then."
"Did you miss that, you dumb assed Limey?" Dora says. "Something with wings on just buzzed my hairdo! I think we're under attack!"
"Holy fuckin' moley!" Monkey exclaims as an unidentified flying object almost hits him in the face. He waves his arms around in a serious state of alarums. "I'd bet my life savings at Joseph Coral's that your brother, the dreaded Hornblower has a hand in this somewhere."
"I don't think so," Dora says. "It's not his style. Knowing him, he'll be fully occupied giving his crew large doses of Horatio. Sodomite that he is, God love him."
"AAAARRRGH!!!" exclaims Duncan as something long, cylindrical, pink and slimy with suckers on it slaps the decking before withdrawing.
"I know what that is," says Monkey. "It's one of them there giant squid things. And these flying fuckers worry me too. I didn't sign up for this. I told you, I don't do horror. There's demons in the air. As we speak. I can feel 'em coming in the air tonight...I tell you..."
Another tes...tentacle slaps hungrily down on the deck, missing Duncan by mere inches before slithering menacingly out of sight, swallowed in the mist.
"SHEE-IT!" cries Dora. "We're under attack! ALL HANDS ON DECK! LIKE NOW!!! NOT TOMORROW!!!"
The Buggerall shifts in the placid waters as the crew haul themselves out of their bunks and make their way up top.
"What's up?" Able Seaman birbee enquires as he pops up through the hatch.
Captain Morse follows, looking sombre. "Cool heads men, and Dora," he says, as he draws his trusty sabre. "No cause here for alarm. I've fucked up many a giant squid in my time. They dont worry me."
"If this isn't financially driven, then it's not within my remit," says Peno, retreating below decks.
"Did somebody say giant squid?" said the mutilated half Percival Pissgums half Buck Siamese twin. "Let me have it at the bastard. I'll sort it out."
"Anyone fancy a bacon sandwich?" says Able Seaman Fergus.
"Oh do fuck off," says Captain Morse. "Can't you see we've got a situation here?"
Pissgums ducks as a flying demon buzzes his head.
"Shit!" he says through gritted teeth.
This time two tes...tentacles slither across the deck. Captain Morse swipes out with his sabre. His aim is true. A horrendous hissing sound rends the very air as the red mist thickens all around and a gout of spilled blood vomits forth from the injured tes...tentacle.
Taking advantage of the situation, Dora Piebottom, never one to miss an opportunity to heave her ample bosom, actually does heave her ample bosom.
"Fucking hell!" says Monkey. "Look at the top bollocks on Dora!"
"Calm down Monkey old chap," says Roy Turse.
"Sorry. Sugar pie honeybun. I can't help myself," quips Monkey. "I've always been a sucker for a lovely pair of boobs. Have been since infancy...sorry."
"Out the fuckin' way ya goddam gay liberal Limey!" shouts Pissgums as his sabre makes a vicious arc. "Got the fucker!" he grunts as a cleaved flying demon flops dead on the deck, neatly spliced as a mainbrace.
"Well done that man," says Captain Morse, as ever exuding an air of calm indefatigability. He continues: "Able seaman Roy Turse! Hands to the wheel if you please. Somebody has to get us out of this shit and I nominate you as the very man to do it!"
"Aye aye sir!" snaps the ever efficient seaman.
Pissgums swings his sabre and another flying demon bites the planking.
"My hero," Dora Piebottom coos. "He could toss his soiled underwear under my hammock anytime."
"Seaman Turse!" shouts Captain Morse. "I don't know quite how we got into this mess but it's up to you to get us out of it!"
"I'm on the case Cap'n Morse!" Turse says.
"Is that it?" Monkey says.
"I agree with that sentiment," says Duncan. "A bit like taking a sledgehammer to smash a walnut. Hardly subtle."
"Don't mind me," says Doctor Victor. "I'm just admiring Dora's heaving bosom. In a strictly medical way I might add."
"Bermuda triangle my arse," mutters Able Seaman Turse as he takes the wheel...