Once upon a midnight queasy dank, lugubrious shadows skittered across the uneven floor of the cobweb-ridden yacht. Nothing stirred, not even a Russian oligarch. In the years since it was fashionable to dance a little bit ago, I was nonetheless moved by sea shanties. And so were my bowels.
And yet, I persisted in my quest to master the fabled Muffled Glockenspiel of Dar-Tanyon; its dulcet tones to soothe my inner rage and subdue my outer passion. I grasped the ebony mallets and I braced for impact.
After a moment of waiting, I added two more moments, making a total of three. Max quota achieved, I then plinked out Pachelbel’s Canon shakily in a Hindustani time signature. As the last note faded, I pensively reflected on the preceding few months, which had to be fifty years long. Odd; such was my distraction that I failed to notice the wretched accumulation of gelatinous fingers wriggling lasciviously inside the cabin across the passageway.
A querulous voice rose above, “Henry, is that you darling?”
The sound of chimes accompanied the swirl of her nightgown. “Yes, it’s me. New nightgown?”
“EBay, daaahling. Isn’t it exquisite?”
While I admired Margaret’s taste, something about the ensemble seemed too steampunk and too pink for such an ominous night. Rubbing my eyes in disbelief I wondered where the lifeboat – the one carrying Tallulah Bankhead (cryogenically frozen) — would get power drinks, fortified with non-GMO carbs, to infuse into her vein. After all, her body was twisted, elongated, roundabout, and humble.
Her woeful form, dashed upon the rocks below the lighthouse, like her – solitary and worn down revealing decades of trauma.
So it was murder! Most foul!!
Turns out, Wikipedia was correct in at least one respect: a banana is a berry. And that proved instrumental in the banana split we ate as an unexpected light flashed on the fish finder. Behold, just look at it! It’s… Person? Woman? Man? Camera? TV?
I threw Margaret overboard to the surprise of no one.
Yet deep in the depths she came up screaming, despite the Fisherman’s Friend I’d only jested to replace her
