M-m-m-monster!

Settle down, now. That's right. Keep calm. (Zamboola - grab the net!) That's right, nobody's gonna' harm you. (Not that net, you idiot... the fishing net!) Nice monster....


Whoops, sorry. Didn't mean to ignore you. Just kind of got our hands full over here in Big Green-land. (No, not Greenland.... Big Green land. Just a turn of phrase - let it pass, let it pass). Not that we're incapable of coping, lord no. Why, we've got some truly unique talent to work with over here. Hell, Big Zamboola himself is an entire planet of wisdom, substantially reduced in size, but still... And Marvin (my personal robot assistant) holds all the knowledge of the ages within his somewhat threadbare memory banks. (It would be helpful if he would just let a little of it out once in a long while, but there you have it.) So sure, we can handle just about anything. Though if any of you have any experience working with giant sea creatures - particularly the more belligerent varieties - please do chime in.


Right - so, as some of you will recall, we were steaming along the N.Y. state Barge Canal, heading westward towards the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill at a respectable four knots (respectable, that is, if you are fighting gale force winds... which we were knot... I mean, not), when we elected to cast off our bonds (we were informal galley slaves, or "temps" as they're sometimes called) and storm our way to the command deck to confront our captors. It was then that we were faced with... well, I can only describe it as a large, snake-like object. Oh, foul it was, with a... ahem... I mean, this fucker was easily fifty feet high, and it was all neck. And, unlike the rest of us, it probably never had to settle for the low-hanging fruit. In spite of that fact, it seemed jolly well interested in our little vessel... or something therein. So the monster loomed above us. And it looked very, very hungry.


Hell of a time for them to open the luncheon buffet! What is it with these gaming cruises, anyway? Can't they just let people eat when they want to (i.e. when they run out of money at the baccarat table)? Lord no! So what the hell, some bastard rings a bell and the folks start lining up. Then that sea creature, mannerless lout that he (or she) is, cuts ahead in line and starts scooping up all of the crab salad. This drew the attention of the ship's executive officer, who inserted himself between the comestibles and the sea monster, demanding that the beast find another source of sustenance. To give credit where credit is due, that critter did alter its dining plan, helping itself to the hapless lieutenant. (You need to be careful what you ask for.)


It may or may not surprise you to learn that people are a lot like potato chips. Once you eat one, it's hard to stop. Ask any sea monster. Just ask them quickly, and don't wait for an answer. Got to go. I just can't type and run (and scream) at the same time.

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