ENTRY 125__44 - HUMAN SUBJECT CHARLES SNIPPY - PERSONAL ID 04477645.
"WAKE UP, MEIN BUTTERLOAF!" Captain hollered, honking on the horn that's been duct-taped to the sled.
"THE CAPTAINIA-EXPRESS HAS ARRIVED AT OUR DESTINATION! PLEASE DISEMBARK WITH CAUTIONS AND DON'T LEAVE ANY OF YOUR BAGS UNATTENDED. UNATTENDED BAGS WILL BE SERVED FOR BREAKFAST TO THE STARVING BOMB RECOVERY SQUAD!"
Just as Captain gave this dire warning, Pilot collapsed onto the sand.
"Great. Just great," I thought. "That's what I get for falling asleep on a sled. God knows where we are now and how long Pilot's been dragging us." I looked behind me at the long, uneven tracks snaking across the dry ocean floor into the distance, and then I looked at Pilot, still lying in a heap, with large ropes over his shoulders.
Captain dismounted the sled and poked Pilot with a spare shoe.
"IT SEEMS WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES WITH OUR DRIVER. MANUAL DISEMBARKATION PROTOCOL INITIATED!"
With this, Captain grabbed the sled's edge and tipped the whole thing right over. Still drowsy from my sleep and not expecting such, helplessly, I tried in vain to grab the sled's edge. I flopped right out of it, with backpacks and rags raining onto me.
Cleaning sand out of my stuff, I tried to get my bearings. Behind us was the vast desert. In front, thick white fog, and Captain, who was pulling Pilot out of his harness.
The fog slowly lifted from the surface of the barren un-sea. I realized that in our pointless meandering across the ocean floor we'd come across a ship-wreck. A battleship.
The monumental battleship, from who knows what century, towered over us. Pieces of rusted ironworks littered the sand. Some of them stuck straight up, looming in the desert like ancient obelisks. The battleship itself was full of huge gaping holes from which slight rays of light broke through. Sunrise.
Silently, we entered the wreck. What flora had made it their home in the distant past hung like sad echoes in the gloom but as we emerged on the opposite side we discovered something unique. It seemed that a community had settled here, tearing down large parts of the ship and using the scrap to build a junk-town. The town itself was long abandoned. Metal mesh that surrounded it whistled in the wind, tiny bird skeletons crunched under my boots, metal shards hung on strings all over the place and jingled an eerie melody.
On one of the trails between two horribly rusted junk-structures Captain and Pilot discovered what appeared to be an old DVD of the film Titanic. Pilot took this as a "SIGN FROM ABOVE" and declared the ship "CAPTANIC". With that, Captain offered me the "MOST ATTRACTIVE" role of "CABIN BOY WHO SADLY DROWNS AT THE END WHILE LOOKING FOR HIS LEFT SOCK." Pilot's three attempts to take said sock left me with exactly two concussions and one sore shoulder, but I managed to defend my clothing from his grabby hands. He would have won, had he not been pulling the sled all night.
I don't know where Pilot gets all this energy. Had I been pulling two people and a bunch of supplies on a heavy sled all night I'd have melted into sweat and dust. I certainly couldn't have pranced around almost successfully stealing other people's socks.
Having given up on harassing me, Captain grabbed Pilot and took him up the rusty stairs to the top deck of the battleship to "RECREATE MOST FLAVOURABLE SCENES FROM CAPTANIC, ZEE KITNETOSCOPE PREFORMANCE" in an attempt to "APPEAL TO THE DESIRABLE AU-DENTAL MASSES, BECAUSE GOLDEN OSCARS DON'T JUST LIE ON THE ROAD LIKE COMMON ROCKS."
19th January 2010