sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #8

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TEST DRIVE MEME #8

1. but times have changed for sailors these days

[you wake up.

it doesn't matter where you were before. going to bed? dying? opening the door to face a great evil? same result. you wake up in a soft bed with starched sheets in a cool, darkened room, sunlight peeking out from behind thick curtains. maybe you're alone; maybe you aren't. maybe you immediately notice the folded paper on the bedside table near your head. if you don't, you better fix that real quick: you won't be able to even open the door before you read it.

the note itself is written in a neat hand on white card stock; there is a stylized logo of a ship with the words SERENA ETERNA printed underneath. the note reads as follows:

Dear Passenger(s),

As your cruise director, it is my great honor to welcome you aboard the Serena Eterna, your destination for fun and adventure! We know you could have chosen any cruise line for your vacation, and we're very grateful you chose ours! On behalf of the Captain, I would like to assure each and every passenger that will we do whatever it takes to fulfill all your needs and desires during your journey with us.

At your earliest possible convenience, please attend the mandatory lifeboat drill by the end of the day. I'm sure everyone is very eager to get started on all the fun and sun, but safety always comes first! You can find your life jacket in your cabin's closet; carry it to your assigned muster station on deck one, where I will take you through the drill. If you can't find me in the crowd, just look for the gal with the winning smile!

See You Real Soon!

Sincerely,
Gal Friday

you walk to deck one. you have no other choice: every time you try to step in a direction some unseen being considers "not towards deck one," you find your legs no longer move, staying stock still, frozen. whether compelled quickly by curiosity, or delayed by pure stubbornness, the result is the same, and you are left milling around with other similarly curious or stubborn people.

you see someone in uniform near the front of the crowd. she seems to be a gal, but is missing the winning smile, along with most of her other features. she seems to see you, though, rushing to your side and placing a lei around your neck with great formality. a voice, cheery but artificial, sees to come from nowhere and everywhere.]

Welcome aboard! I'm so happy you could join us!

[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.

after the drill is completed, you are seemingly free to go. or, well, your legs work, now. and maybe that's as good as it's gonna get.]

2. tried to amend my carnivorous habit

[the space inside John's where the piano normally sits is mysteriously vacant today. as a matter of fact, the entire piano bar is silent, without so much as a muzak-inspired interpretation of Uptown Girl to hum along to.

the piano itself seems to have disappeared... for the most part. unlucky, unsuspecting passengers who enter the cabin hallway, step out onto the lower decks, or find themselves in one of the other narrow corridors of the ship, may find themselves suddenly facing down a silent, unmoving grand piano. it takes up too much space to squeeze by comfortably...

and then, the cover lifts, exposing what looks to be... teeth?

yeah. yeah, those are its teeth. and it's coming right for you.]

3. that American creation on which I feed

[it had been a difficult October for bahamanuel, the bahamanal. its territory had changed utterly, becoming alien and strange. new predators were encroaching on its hunting grounds. its position in the natural order is under threat. and so, nature finds a way.

the old timers know to be wary of large piles of clothes, but even they won’t think to look twice at the tiny lumps of garish kids’ swimsuits and sundresses - until they feel something latch onto their leg, and then several more things, and anywhere from ten to twenty balled up clothes piles try to take down their prey.

the young must learn how to hunt, after all.]

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"Snappy dresser, isn't he? He'd do numbers on tiktok," another phantom rimshot. That joke got him keel-hauled last time!

"Nah, he'd get DMCA'd by Kesha every time!"

She's doing finger guns Yakko.

There's finger guns.

You're gonna love Crichton and Gideon, Yakko.

"Yeah... stick to your day job."

The elevator dings and Yakko trots himself inside it, hopping up to sit on the railing.

Erin steps inside herself and slaps a random button, folding her arms as she picks a corner.

"Bold words from the guy with a non-union writer, Yakko. Besides, you missed my best bit while you were outta the house."

("His unicycle careens through the void...")

"So, here's the deal. This cruise? Not your cruise. There's a notable absence of Jackson Pollock paintings made from guts. You good to be a bit more Saturday Morning and a bit less Rob Zombie?"

"Just because he's not union doesn't mean the guy isn't funny, it just means he's a scab. He's not funny anyway, but-"

For reasons unknown to him, Yakko smacks himself in the face.

"See? It's all physical slapstick with this guy. Hack writer," he grumbles as he rubs his nose.

"I've been Saturday Morning for the last thirty years, but I'll believe it when I see it. You know how many times I've been made into a fur coat? The IUCN should classify me as an endangered species."

Erin shouldn't. She really should not. It's very insensitive.

But how many times is she going to have this opportunity?

"So what you're saying is you're the Serena Eterna's premier fashion mogul?"

"Are you kidding? Nobody looks better in my fur than I do!"

Ah, so nice to have someone working with him and not just saying 'DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE' over and over until they finally managed to kill him. Actual material. This voyage must be heaven.

"Well we can't all be winners." Erin's smile is fond, but still only half-there. "...I can't promise they're all gonna be understanding, my good dude. You kinda killed several people with your B material, but...we're trying. Shit happens. You've got me in your corner on one condition."

"...If you're gonna do the falling object gag to murder me again make it a safe, it fits better."

"Ehhh... I don't really... 'do' consequences for my gags," Yakko does hooked air quotation marks, "last time, people sorta understood that it was their fault if they got caught in one of mine. And most of them would never have admitted I got them in the first place,"

Looking at you, Bjorn. That time with the chainsaw was fair and square.

"And besides, I don't re-use my material. It wouldn't be funny a second time."

"You're gonna have to learn to do consequences buddy, I'm pretty sure Peter Smith is gonna be mad about the piano. If not for dying, then because you violated the bro code by cockblocking him with said murder."

"People are always mad at me!"

Makes setting up jokes waaaay easier when you have am angry straight man to bounce off. And they don't come much straighter than Peter Smith.

"It's not like there's any hard feelings- I've been beaten, smashed, pulverized, knocked out, grated, skinned, scalped, boiled, eviscerated, stabbed, decapitated, split in half- and that's just life! Well, life here, anyway. I hit a couple of guys with a piano, so what? Everyone was hitting everyone, it was a bloodbath. That's just how these things go. No point getting mad if it's just going to happen again!"

"Yakko, I will cut you a deal." Erin presses her hands together to use all ten fingers to point at this rabbit dog thing. "You do your best to keep your jokes non-lethal for the first month, get the chance to see things are different here, and at a time of your choosing during that month I will give you unrestricted access to a go-kart for one hour. A functional go-kart, for reference."

"You mean one of these?"

Camera pans out and he's sitting in a tiny go-kart, balanced precariously on the railing.

She can't help it. Erin breaks down laughing, clutching the railing near her for support. He got her, fuck.

And Yakko yaks back. It's nice to make someone laugh in a way that doesn't involve dismemberment again!! Oop- speaking of which, the elevator dings and Yakko bips the horn of the go-kart, leaning forward to tip it off the railing and onto the floor. Did he mention it's a pedal-kart? It's a pedal kart. Yakko is peddling furiously out into the promenade.

Yakko gets some distance while Erin has a furious mental debate with herself. On the one hand, is it not the nature of Yakko to get all gags? On the other hand if she makes an Utena joke and it doesn't land she'll never live it down.

Fuck it, chaos reigns.

"You think you're the only one who can turn into a kart?"

Beep beep motherfucker, you're being chased by a go-kart with no driver now.

"Christine!! Long time no see!!" Yakko calls back.

When the camera pans back, Yakko's in an off-brand Mario cap and the phantom tones of Coconut Mall echoes out from seemingly nowhere. You know what else comes from seemingly nowhere? A green shell, which he lobs backwards at Erin.

"Just try to sue me in here, Nintendo!!"

"You had Stephen King's fuckin - WHOA!" Erin swerves hard away from the green shell, bounces off the corridor wall (sorry in advance to anyone who wanted to enjoy their day without having to investigate All This Shit), corrects course. "Oh so you get items -"

The gas pedal puts itself to the metal.

"For a while! Had a hard time getting around, though, this ship isn't very murderous-ghost-car-accessible."

Impossible to tell if he's joking or not. Because, y'know.

Yakko drifts into a hard turn, pedaling directly towards the Tommy Bahama to the sound a menacing orchestral sting. Surely this will not end poorly!

Oh, Erin's going in right after him. "Hey Yakko?" she calls out, once he's crossed the threshold, for the Warning Too Late is part of, you see, The Bit.

"Yessiree, Erin?" he says, not looking where he's going to glance behind at her.

"Anyone tell ya about the monster, its children, and the werecougar in this store?"

Nyoooom straight into the store herself.

"The WHAT?!"

He turns around just in time to see the giant mass of clothes with gaping maw. Yakko screams, taking another hard turn to evade it- and he's launched from the go-kart into the air, soaring like a majestic eagle before hitting the ground with a loud crunch. Limbs sticking out everywhere, a bone protruding.

Except, unlike in the cartoons, Yakko makes a distinctly un-funny shriek of pain.

Fuck. Erin resumes a human form still going full-speed; the result is an overhead chop with Bifrost that Bahamanuel remembers all too well. Sliced clothes go flying off its form while Erin yells, encouraging it to retreat, for now.

One of these days it'll figure out Erin can't light it on fire any more, but not today. Erin goes rushing to Yakko's side to check those wounds. Please, God, don't make her mercy kill the cartoon.

SHE'S GONNA HAVE TO MERCY KILL THE CARTOON!!!

Yakko's whimpering when she approaches, big sad cartoon tears bubbling from his black eyes.

"Oh- oh pain," he sniffs, "somehow I even missed you in the Nothing," more sniffling, and a small puddle forms underneath him, "could you do the honours?" he asks, withdrawing a comically sized mallet from nowhere.

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crushed_pearls - 2023-01-06 07:31 (UTC) - Expand

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gnighteverybody - 2023-01-06 07:37 (UTC) - Expand

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