Places to Chat
RMS Humbug and
Chatterbox: Inkwell
RMS Humbug and
RMS Humbug and RMS Tiny Invite You To Their Maiden Voyages!
On September 22, a day that looks, smells, and tastes like any other day – which, for that matter, it probably is – an “ordinary” person much like yourself (maybe even yourself?) finds in the back of their cupboard a five-year-old mayonnaise jar. The nutrition facts label reads as follows:
Vitamin B12 – 2%
Vitamin Z564 – 26%
You, random but lucky person, are invited to the maiden voyages of the RMS Tiny and the RMS Humbug, two cruise ships belonging to the Ridiculous Management of Seagoers (RMS) Company! Isn't that awesome? It starts on October 10, so you have lots of time to pack! Isn't that even awesomer! And it's completely FREE*! Please RSVP by October 5. Anyone who wishes to join after October 5th but before October 10 has a lot less chance of making it onto the ship on time. Anyone attempting to board the ship after October 10 will find that the ship has already left, and I am afraid that under no circumstances can we pick up latecomers.
Cheesiness – 41%
Corniness - 22%
Good Old Random Humour – 5555555555%
Logic - (-111%)
Vitamin A+ - 4.67%
The person squints to read the fine print (the finest print they've ever seen) at the bottom of the label:
*This may or may not include certain expenses, including but not limited to: food, accommodation, extreme trauma counselors, staff, my new billion-dollar fridge, etc. NOTE: Some of these expenses may seem entirely unrelated to the subject at hand, but let me assure you that, when viewed from a holistic point of view, they are all completely necessary.
-Your Future Captain,
The Ominous
ANOTHER NOTE: Any complaints, questions, forwarded expenses, or wishes to sue may all be sent to John F.Q. and CaptainRead of the Cricket Chatterbox!
ANOTHER NOTE: We here at RMS Co. believe that there are two possible reasons why the Titanic sank. One is that it had such a huge, grand name that the sea serpents got angry and told the iceburgers to “let 'em have it broadside!”. Of course, as you all know, iceburgers don't have very good aim, so instead of “having it broadside”, the Titanic was rammed from the front, causing the deaths of millions. The other is that everyone thought it was unsinkable, and so we all jinxed it and of course it just had to sink after that. This is why we have built the RMS Tiny and the RMS Humbug. The former ship will be completely unsinkable because of its unassuming name, and the latter will be a test to see if we were right. The RMS Humbug has been equipped with all the sorts of things that superstitious sailors think contribute to the angering of sea serpents and the sinking of ships, and it will probably be sunk almost immediately.
AND ANOTHER NOTE: When everyone has boarded the RMS Tiny (no one will want to go on the RMS Humbug, we are certain), their names will inexplicably appear in Pandora's Fedora, owned by your captain, The Ominous (that's me!). A “murderer” will be drawn out of it, and the game will begin! From then on, those whose names are drawn out of Pandora's Fedora will “disappear”, unfortunate “victims” to the will of the hat.
YET ANOTHER TEDIOUS NOTE: This was inspired by T.O.N.'s Ski Lodge Murder Mysteries(TM), and we here at RMS Co. sincerely hope that it is different enough to avoid any copyright issues. To be sure of this, there is a rather severe plot twist that we can't tell you a single thing about. We will not use the Ski Lodge, nor any of the characters from it, and we will attempt to use our own style of writing, no matter how much we may be unconsciously influenced into doing otherwise because of the sheer awesomeness of the Ski Lodge. "Days" will be written whenever possible during the busy schedule of The Ominous, and you can hope to expect from one to three of them per week. Everyone who signs up may post their view of the "day," but please wait until you've read whatever The Ominous has written before doing so, and because of the severe yet unknowable plot twist, your memories will be wiped once you die, so there are unfortunately no ghosts. If you really want to, dreams or hallucinations are allowed.
The person snorts dismissively. “Some silly, outdated advertisement or conspiracy meant to get more people to eat mayonnaise! Well, it certainly didn't work very well...” They think, staring at the uneaten mayonnaise jar for a few seconds, and then throwing it over their shoulder into a garbage can and inadvertently causing a snowstorm in Italy.
DINGALING! DINGALING! The phone rings. You pick it up, wrenching your gaze from the scattered tea leaves in front of you that had just produced the story above. “Hello?”
“Good evening. This is Super Mayonnaise Incorporated, business partner with RMS Co. We have been looking through our records, and it has come to our inattention that the five-year-old mayonnaise jar you just now allegedly threw over your shoulder was never sold, stolen, or even brought into existence in the first place. It does not exist, and neither does your house, no matter how real it may appear. Furthermore, you do not exist. We deny everything, and have lawsuits in place to make sure you do not claim otherwise. In fact, I am talking to thin air right now, because you do not exist. Neither does your telephone. Goodbye, thin air, and thank you for your co-operation.”
Before you can speak, the line goes dead. Now thoroughly mystified, you decide to thwart reason and pack your bags to wherever it was that the ships were supposed to leave from. Not that there had been a location mentioned anywhere in the story your tea leaves just told you, but you still think you have an idea of where to go. You hope.
submitted by The Ominous, age unknown, mysterious
(September 22, 2014 - 7:25 pm)
(September 22, 2014 - 7:25 pm)
Top I say! TOP!
(March 6, 2015 - 3:02 am)
TOP I SAY! TOOOP!!!!
(March 7, 2015 - 1:01 pm)
Um, Mr. Ominus, I'm afraid that a new report is long overdue. Please oblige.
(March 8, 2015 - 7:11 pm)
"NNOOOOOO000000000oooo.........."
(March 10, 2015 - 6:53 pm)
Top
(March 11, 2015 - 7:57 am)
Whatever has happened to The Ominous?
(March 12, 2015 - 11:58 am)
We here at the RMS Co. would like to apologize for our delinquent behaviour. We have no excuses that our feeble minds have not already come up with (other than "we were swallowed by the Hippopotamuses of Busyness, who unthinkingly did not have wi-fi or word-processors installed in their stomachs"), but if you will still have us, we will attempt to continue the cruise with no more interruptions. The next day will be posted shortly (a.k.a. within the next two days).
Sincerely,
The Ominous
(March 14, 2015 - 11:22 am)
Even the most important people in the world are in some way unimportant. The other way round is also true. You can never be sure what is important and what isn't important in this mindbogglingly vast universe which we have the audacity to call home. I will let you ponder this unexpected piece of unintelligible “wisdom” while the RMS Tiny tells her tale.
-The Ominous
The day dawned chilly, foggy, and grey, with clouds covering the sky so that no one aboard me could see my sister the RMS Humbug flying below, watching like a hawk. And no one aboard the Globulous Bubblefishes's flying saucer could see the long neck of a giraffe peeking over the deck railing with spy goggles, plotting devious plots. The giraffe watched as the CBers trooped one by one into the flying saucer, surrounded by Globulous Bubblefishes. I will now call the Globulous Bubblefishes G.B.s, because my dear friend the typewriter shivers every time he writes the name. The G.B.'s horribly enchantingly ugly flag flapped in a grey breeze. A G.B. poked Winter Firefly with a loganberry. “Move along, move along now, everyone! Hurry up and step into the flying saucer!”
“Don't you have anything a bit more . . . threatening than loganberries?” Everinne said.
“Well, we do have pointed sticks!” the G.B. said, scratching its head.
Madeline crossed her arms. “Really? Pointed sticks? Those are so last century! How do you take over the universe with pointed sticks?”
The G.B. smiled. “Quite easily, actually! But if pointed sticks don't bother you, I'll have to bring out . . . (drum-roll please) . . . the Laser Gun!”
Forrest sighed. “Laser Gun? Don't go all Star Trek on us, please!”
The G.B. sighed. “Well, I haven't got anything else. Just this pineapple, but that's probably much too ridiculous for you.”
Winter Firefly suddenly looked terrified. “Pineapple!? No, not a pineapple! Anything but a pineapple! Okay, okay, I'll walk into the flying saucer, just don't brandish your pineapple! Please!” She walked into the flying saucer, and the other CBers followed.
The G.B. looked around. “Well, that was easy!”
On the other side of the ship, Squeak was pestering a G.B with questions.
“What's your name? What's my name? Pleased to meet you! Am I pleased, though? Should I be pleased to meet you? Where is Africa? What are you doing here anyways?” he asked.
The G.B. spoke in a deep, ominous voice, “We have shrunk ourselves to your primitive size so that we can fit onto your planet, and hold you for ransom before we destroy your puny planet. Our terribly inaccurate research shows that you are the least important people on your planet, so no one will pay the ransom. Then we will be forced to incinerate your planet, which was our amazing plan all along!” The G.B. laughed squeakily, and added, “I hope that news didn't ruin your day. Now enough talking, into the saucer!”
Squeak kept talking. “How many doors does a flying saucer have, anyways?” He walked into the flying saucer, and instantly regretted it. The anteroom inside was horribly decorated with flashing lights, exposed wires, and chrome plating everywhere. Squeak began to get a headache. The G.B entered behind him, answering Squeak's question with a horribly long number. “-- times 3 to the numeral 77777, plus 40 gazillion. And that's only counting the meteorological doors and the visual sideports. If you include the high-definition teleporters, flamingoes, and wormholes, that number is quadrupled and added to 9999999999999.05. So yes, there are rather a few doors on this flying saucer.”
The G.B walked up to a blank white door that Squeak suddenly noticed, and pushed a button. The door swung open, and they walked into the main room, where the other CBers were also being gathered. An imposing wheelie swivel-chair stood in the middle of the plain white room, and a large G.B sat in it, wearing a sombrero pulled low over his eyes. He spoke solemnly, “Tacos. Guacamole enchilada, burrito!”
“I'm sorry, I don't speak Mexican,” Masked Piester replied, trying not to grin.
“Taco burrito enchilada!” The G.B. barked at a nearby G.B guard, who pushed a button on his wrist and replied, “I'm sorry sir, there must have been a misinformation breach! I'm sure I sent you the right translation through the Incorrect Nonmessenger! Please don't turn me into anything...spicy!”
The G.B. in the swivel-chair swivelled in a circle, suddenly wearing dark shades and a bowler hat. “Apology accepted, but don't let it happen again. Now, down to beeswax -- I mean business! Prepare to neutralize the prisoners!”
“Sorry, that's not in our job description!” The G.B guards said in unison.
The leader G.B. huffed. “Alright, I'll neutralize them myself. Prepare for the prisoners to be neutralized!”
His flipper hovered over a bright red button. Just as he was about to push it, Squeak asked, “What does that purple button do?”
The G.B. groaned. “It's just for show, it doesn't do anything.” He prepared to push the red button again.
“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but what does that indigo-coloured button do?” Squeak queried.
“It's just ornamental! You can't actually push it. Now would you please let me get on with my work? I'm supposed to have you neutralized twenty seconds ago!” The G.B lowered his flipper once more.
Indigo spoke up indignantly. “Just ornamental, you say!? Nothing but a button on the wall?! What are you trying to do, lower my self-esteem? Put a pin in the metaphorical balloon that is my ego? How dare you!!! You, you – mmpphmmh!” A G.B guard slapped his flipper over Indigo's mouth.
The leader G.B, whose flipper had moved back up again when Indigo had spoken, lowered his flipper slowly towards the red button. “Is everyone quite done with interrupting me? Good, now –”
Squeak interrupted again, “I'm sorry, I just can't help but ask, what does that brown knobby button do?”
The G.B. glared. “That button is utterly of no consequence! None of the buttons, knobs, levers, pulleys, wires, or anything else does anything either! The only thing that works in this entire flying saucer is this red button, with which I shall neutralize you!”
Squeak looked at the floor and shuffled his feet. The G.B.'s flipper descended towards the red button. Squeak blurted, “Does the red button do anything else?”
The flying saucer exploded with the G.B.'s fury, but was quickly reassembled by the automatic rematerializer. The G.B. yelled, “Yes, the red button does other stuff! When you hit it once --” The G.B. pushed the button once, and the saucer lurched upwards. “-- the saucer flies. When you hit it twice --” The G.B. kicked the button twice, and a loud thud came from beneath the saucer. “-- the saucer lands. And when you hit it three times, it neutralizes prisoners. But neutralizing is too good for you!” The G.B grabbed a laser gun, pointed it at Squeak, and pulled the trigger. Squeak squeaked as he dematerialized into a herd of white mice.
The mice scurried past the infuriated G.B., squeaking loudly. The G.B. mopped his brow and sighed happily, surveying his prisoners. “Now that's over, I can neutralize the rest of you!” He brought his flipper down on the button. Nothing happened. “Oops! Wrong button!” He was about to push the right button when a recording began playing from the button he had just pushed. “This is a reminder to my future self – not that I would forget anything, being the amazing Globulous Bubblefish that I am – but just in case, this is a reminder to not forget about asking the President of the United Chatterbox for the ransom for those unimportant humans I'll be capturing. Maybe I'll have captured them already, I don't know. It's very hard to tell the future, you know. Especially when one lives in the present. Oh, and if there's any leftover pizza by the time you hear this, future me, eat it before it gets moldy. Unless it already is moldy. In that case, eat it anyways.”
The recording stopped, and the G.B. looked thoughtful. Taking off his hat, he stuck his flipper far into the hat and dug around in it. Finally, he pulled out a piece of moldy pizza. “Victory!” he exclaimed, and popped the pizza into his mouth.
The CBers struggled against the guards' restraining flippers, but this attempt at escape was utterly useless.
“You know, I'm pretty sure the cruise pamphlet didn't mention anything about being held for ransom by aliens! I want my money back!” Bookbug muttered.
Curio shook his head. “No, I noticed quite a lot of small print. It was probably mentioned in that.”
“No, no, no! I read that small print! All it said was 'Don't bring live parents, live penguins, live unicorns, dead unicorns, or undead unicorns. If it's all the same to you, just don't bring anything vaguely alive, dead, or unicorn-ish. Other than yourself, of course!'” Maplesyrup said.
Winter Firefly said, “I bet none of you noticed the even smaller print hidden behind the 'R' in 'RMS Tiny'! I had to use a super-micro-microscope that I borrowed from an italian hot-dog salesman! Boy, those hot-dogs sure were hot! I had to go to Antarctica before I could take them for a walk without the sidewalk melting!”
“Well? What did that extra-small print say?” BookWizard asked.
Winter Firefly thought for a minute. “It said 'If you can read this, you are either super-small, super-human, superstitious, or have super good eyesight. Either way, this small print has nothing useful to say at all.' There was a bunch of legal words after it, but I didn't bother to read it because my eyes were hurting too much.”
Munching his moldy pizza, the G.B captain swivelled around in his swivel-chair. “Be quiet, puny prisoners! Wherefore art thou, Bobby Bobulous Butterfingers? As my second-in-command, you should broadcast the message for me so that I don't have to dirty my flippers!”
A G.B with only a pineapple stuck onto a sharp pointed stick for a weapon snapped to attention. “Reporting for duty, sir!”
The G.B leader grinned. “Prepare to broadcast the message!”
The G.B guard looked around. “What button do I push? And is that even in my job description?”
Far, far away...
The President of the United Chatterbox was sipping his usual overpriced and underrated afternoon coffee when the menu in front of him disintegrated and reformed into a small television covered in flashing neon-coloured buttons that were completely useless.
The television turned itself on, and the face of a G.B guard flickered into view. The G.B guard cleared his throat and looked around nervously. “Is it on? Are we broadcasting?”
The G.B captain gestured impatiently, “Yes, it's on! The red button is flashing red, which means the T.V is on!”
“But I thought the red button flashing red means that the flying saucer has been overrun by the Elite Fluffycloud Unicorn Squad Team!” The G.B guard protested.
“No no no! That's when the red button flashes white with red plaid.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Now get on with it!”
“Actually, you know what? I don't this is in my job description after all!” The G.B guard hit the red button very hard several times, and then stomped off.
“No, not the self-destruct button combination!” The G.B captain panicked as the universe imploded with a small whimpering sound.
Rest in squeaking mice, Squeak, Rest In Peace.
(March 16, 2015 - 10:12 am)
Ohhhh! I love it! I would totally be afraid of a pineapple.
(March 17, 2015 - 8:59 am)
According to Aldo, all logical people should be afraid of pineapples. For example, Spock, Einstein, and Aristotle all found pineapples to be very illogical, and pineapples, being illogical, were the cause of their demises, driving them to insanity with their illogicalness. Be very afraid of the pineapples. That's what Aldo thinks, anyways...
Sincerely,
The Ominous
(March 18, 2015 - 8:18 am)
I stand by my belief that pineapples, once properly cut, are delicious and harmless. They have Fibbonaci numberzzzzzzz!!! Now baobabs for instance....
(March 18, 2015 - 10:42 am)
Top
(March 21, 2015 - 6:07 pm)
A Random Minisode Until I Write The Next Day:
In the black nothingness that was once the universe, a small television blipped into existence. It flipped to a channel playing a rerun of The Big Bang Theory. To relieve the monotony of playing the same thing over and over again by itself, the television made a green sofa materialize. Unfortunately for the television, the chesterfield had been carrying on its back a dull human, who just so happened to be the President of the United Chatterbox.
This will ruin everything, the TV thought to itself. But then it reflected that, due to the nonexistence of the universe, there wasn't anything to ruin except for itself and the chesterfield. Comforted by this thought, the TV fell asleep.
The President of the United Chatterbox looked around at the nothingness, sipped his coffee tranquilly, and then pulled out a remote and flipped to a sports channel. He watched the Quidditch game excitedly. The game of Quidditch finished, with the green and silver team winning. The President of the United Chatterbox sipped his coffee again and looked at the nonexistent view. For a change, he slurped his coffee loudly.
The TV kept playing, and the President's mind wandered. He thought about lollipops, emus, and boa constrictors. He thought about yaks, gnus, fruit flies, and Greek mythology. In short, he thought about everything except his current situation, which he was certain would make his mind implode with the impossibility of it ever happening.
Suddenly, his attention was diverted back to the TV screen, which had gone black. The President leaned over and gave the TV a good knock. The screen turned on again, but it wasn't playing the sports channel. Instead, the face of a Globulous Bubblefish spoke onscreen. “Attention, please! Your planet has been scheduled for demolition to make way for a hyperspace bypass. Nobody panic, this won't hurt a bit.” The G.B looked down at the script he was reading from. “Oh, oopsie! Wrong lines. Ahem, this recording has been sent forward in time in case our mission to destroy a small planet in vector 224 of the Milky Way Galaxy fails. This recording has been produced for the betterment of the Globulous Bubblefishes back at home, so that they may share in the destruction of this primitive planet. The following recording is rated G, for Gloriously Evil. Attention, President of the United Chatterbox! This message is addressed to you!”
The President of the United Chatterbox showed no sign of surprise at the fact that the recording had addressed him, and sipped his coffee blissfully. The Globulous Bubblefish continued. “We have captured Jane, Suzy, and Little Fuzzykins, their pet parrot!”
The President looked mildly amused, and slurped his coffee happily. This is awfully good coffee! He thought, and continued listening to the G.B. “This just in! We have not captured Jane, Suzy, and Little Fuzzykins! We have actually captured several Chatterboxers aboard the RMS Tiny.”
The President mused to himself, Oh, now things are getting interesting! The Globulous Bubblefish proceeded to get to the point. “We are holding them for ransom, and will not release them until you give us 500 bags of boa constrictor feed! That costs about 10 gajillion of your Earth currency.”
The President spoke aloud, “Oh, sure I'll pay up! That kind of money won't be too hard to come by, here, I'll write you a cheque!” The President pulled out his chequebook and proceeded to scribble out a cheque for the money the G.B's wanted. He held it out towards the TV screen, forgetting that it was a recording. “Here's your money!”
The Globulous Bubblefish backed away. “No! I don't want your money! You're supposed to say that you won't pay such a ridiculous amount for such unimportant people! And our master plan was that we would destroy your planet in revenge!”
The President sipped his coffee. “Oh, well then. If you're sure that's what you want, I won't pay such a ridiculous amount! I can't say that they're not important people, though, because one can never be sure of anything when nothing exists anymore, and I'm pretty sure that everyone is important in their own way, anyways. Go ahead and destroy the Earth!”
“Wait, but you just said that nothing existed anymore! That means we can't destroy the Earth anymore!” The Globulous Bubblefish looked sad.
“Well, that's your problem. Goodbye!” The President smiled cheerfully at the TV as he turned it off, and then picked up his coffee to take a sip. His coffee cup was empty. “Oh bother!”
(March 22, 2015 - 8:19 am)
Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy and Harry Potter! I can't stand the amazingness!
(March 23, 2015 - 6:01 pm)
*conjures chair* You may sit, if it helps. I'm afraid I can't apologize for the amazingness, even if I did forget for a full five minutes (long enough to reread it and then bang my head on the table) that I referenced Harry Potter in it...
Sincerely,
The Ominous
(March 28, 2015 - 8:04 am)