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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)
Where am I? Did I die?
(June 25, 2015 - 4:05 pm)
Don't worry Indigo, you're still alive! For now, at least...
MWAHAHAHA!!! *coughcough* Ahem. Sorry about that. You'll find out soon enough.
Sincerely,
The Ominous
(June 25, 2015 - 9:24 pm)
Toppy! Hooray!
(June 25, 2015 - 1:26 am)
DAY 9, PART 3 OF 3!
The waiter narrowed his eyes. “Are ye certain? Added up, that'll be 5 gazillion dubloons. Plus tax!”
The Blaster hesitated. “Umm...”
CaptainRead interrupted, “Don't worry, we can just take it out of John F.Q.'s bank account! It's still working because his lawyers think he's still alive!”
“I'll take that as a yes, then.” The waiter swaggered off again and returned a few minuted later, carrying a mountain of plates full of things that looked like food if you squinted and had a good imagination. He tossed them in the CBers general direction, and they just barely landed on the table, spraying the CBers with grease. It was obvious that the cook hadn't forgotten the old medieval barman's saying: “It ain't good if it ain't got at least two barrels of grease and a pineapple on it!”
The CBers stared at the “food” and groaned. Everinne looked around the tavern, and spotted a sign. “There's hot chocolate over there! Want some?” she got up and went over to the sign. Curio watched as Everinne ordered a pint of hot chocolate, and gasped.
“It comes in pints? Wait for me! I want one!”
Meanwhile, Bookbug was busy watching some tap-dancing flamingos. She joined them, tapping a messy jig on the greasy floor. The blaring rock music swept her away, and soon she was spinning, spinning and tapping, and overall doing a horrible job of tap-dancing. “Wait a minute, what's this in my pocket?” she murmured to herself. She slipped her hand into her pocket, and drew out... John F.Q.'s LoTR-spoofed ring? She stared at it. It was... her only. Her precious...
She tripped over her spinning feet and face-planted on the floor into an exceptionally large puddle of grease. John F.Q.'s ring spun away and disappeared. The flamingos drew apart, suddenly realizing that they were not alone in the tap-dance. Bookbug sighed. So much for being Gollum. A strange hand belonging to a face that held a very peculiar nose helped her to her feet.
“You're drawing too much attention to yourself, Miss Underhill,” muttered the owner of the hand.
Bookbug gasped, trying to peer under the strange man's hood. “You're Aragorn, aren't you?”
The man smiled. “No, just a concerned tap-dancing critic. I thought I should tell you, your form was terrible for a professional, but pretty good for a beginner.” He walked away, clicking his heels together every other step.
“Now what was that supposed to mean?” Bookbug huffed. She ran back to the CBers table to see what they were up to now.
Most of the other guests had left by then, and the CBers were roasting marshmallows over the grease-covered lava lamp and working their way through 20 pints of hot chocolate. The greasy meal – no, there was too much grease for that, it was a meal of grease – had been left untouched.
Behind them, a barmaid began scrubbing the tables. Her indigo-coloured eyes watched the CBers intensely, marking their every move. Madeline slurped her hot chocolate loudly and glanced over her shoulder at the barmaid. Then she glanced again. “Indigo?! What are you doing dressed as a barmaid?”
The “barmaid” laughed nervously, and said in a falsetto voice that sounded slightly fake, “I don't know no Indigo! My name be Betty!” She proceeded to scrub the table harder than ever, staring hard at a stain that wasn't there.
Madeline turned to the other CBers. “Help me out here, she's Indigo, isn't she?”
“Yeah! Indigo, what are you doing dressed as a barmaid?” asked Curio.
“I just asked her that! And she said she wasn't Indigo!” Madeline said.
“That's right, I'm not Indigo!” the “barmaid” agreed, looking earnestly in every direction except at the CBers.
“Nope, you're definitely Indigo! I can tell you're faking it!” said Bookbug.
“Why are you all talking about this Indigo? What are you looking for that's indigo?” 'Betty' asked, her voice even more falsely high.
CaptainRead gasped. “She doesn't know who she is! She must have am... an... amn.... what's the word?”
“Amnesia?” Forrest offered.
“Who the what now?” CaptainRead asked.
“It means losing your memory, remember?” Everinne explained.
“Wait, what were we just talking about?” CaptainRead asked, trying not to grin.
“Sorry, I gotta go!” 'Betty' trilled cheerily, sidling away towards the kitchen. “I've got, er, some mugs to wash!”
“Not so fast!” yelled CaptainRead, who suddenly remembered everything. “We know you're Indigo, and as you just saw, I know how unlikely it is that you got amnesia. So admit it!”
“Shan't.” 'Betty' stuck out her tongue.
“You will too!”
“Will not!”
“Will too!”
“Will not!”
“Will too!”
'Betty' scratched her head. “Wait, what were we arguing about again?”
“She's Indigo!” shouted Curio.
“No I'm not!”
“Yes you are!”
Indigo hung her head. “Alright, alright, I'm Indigo! It's just that when I ran off to get Aldo when MP fainted, I was assigned a top-secret mission! I couldn't tell any of you about it because it was top-secret, so I ran off to do the mission and got hired by the tavern-keeper. I think what I'm supposed to find is here somewhere! And remember, it's top secret, so you didn't hear any of this, okay?”
“Hear any of what?” The Blaster grinned, and winked.
“Wait seriously, what were we talking about again?” CaptainRead said. All the other CBers laughed, except for Indigo, who was gone already, having slipped away to the next room to finish her mission. A question mark was filling in for her, laughing loudly enough so that no one would notice.
Indigo stood in front of one of the tavern's kitchen's many large, dirty sinks, beside it there was a row of dirty mugs lined up waiting to be washed. She put her hand into her pocket and brought out the letter that had given her the mission. It would be better to read it again, to make sure she hadn't missed anything.
As she stood there, she thought about how she had rushed back to the Wreck Room before going off to do her mission and heard Bookbug wanting more screen time. She hadn't got much screen time, either, now had she? The G.B. alien had thought that she was just ornamental! The other CBers probably hadn't even noticed that she was gone when they were running around this adventurous forest! Maybe... maybe she could try her hand at being the murderer herself! Then they would all know her name! Then they would respect her! A word suddenly popped into Indigo's head: hedgehog!
She remembered the hedgehog she had rescued from the other CBers by giving it the power of speed. A small warm spiky ball of cuteness moved in her pocket. It was the hedgehog. If she could rescue a hedgehog, she could be a good person. Murderers have to be decisive, and Indigo didn't think rescuing a hedgehog one minute and killing someone the next would be a good example of decisiveness. Anyways, she had better things to do than help the murderer, she had to finish her mission.
After that inner monologue, it was a relief to turn to the letter in her hand:
Dear Indigo,
I need some mayonnaise. It is vitally important that you get some for me. Meet me on the starboard deck with a jar of mayonnaise, and you will have accomplished your mission. Only you can do this for me, and this mission is top-secret.
Signed,
______
Indigo turned towards the fridge. There might be mayonnaise there, she might as well start looking.
“Don't go near the fridge! If it falls, it could crush you flat!” The bartender's wife peeked her head around the corner. Her voice was a squeak of fright, and a pin that said “Beware the Realtors” was stuck in her hat.
Indigo moved away from the fridge, but it was too late! She turned to run, but another identical fridge blocked her path. She turned again, only to find another fridge. She was surrounded by fridges! Indigo saw a five-fingered hand wearing a six-fingered glove push a fridge over. The fridges fell like dominoes, until the last one began to fall onto Indigo. In slow-motion, the door of the fridge fell open, and Indigo smiled. “Oh look! There's the mayonnaise I was looking for!” The fridge crashed to the ground thunderously. Silence.
The silence was broken by the scream of the bartender's wife.
The CBers rushed in, one was panting rather harder than the others.
My goodness, the murderer must be getting impatient! I hope you don't mind, I have a feeling that doing two murders per day from now on will finish us a bit sooner. Two-murder days will probably be almost twice as long as one-murder days anyways, so you'll get about the same amount of content, but the likelihood of you dying each day is greater. MWAHAHA!
-The Ominous
“What happened? Where's Indigo!” Brookeira asked.
“It's too late, she's dead! It was a realtor that did it! Oh, and I'm not even supposed to be in this story! Where are the Baudelaires?” That last part came out in a sort of mumble, and the lady vanished with a pop. Or maybe it was a soda.
“No, not Indigo!” Everinne wept.
Curio sat down on the floor in shock. "Oh no! That Doctor Who title sequence must have been real! Indigo's gone, and probably BookWizard too, I haven't seen her since yesterday! How could this happen?"
"BookWizard was the bookiest of wizards! The wizardiest of books!" Forrest lamented. “And Indigo, she was the bluest of Indigos! She was not in any way ornamental! They were the bravest of CBers!"
“Hey, what about me? I'm pretty brave. In fact, I should think that we're all pretty brave, to be on this trip!” The Blaster said angrily.
“Yeah, but we're still alive! You have to be respectful to the dead!” CaptainRead said.
“Oh well, I suppose that makes sense.” The Blaster sighed.
Then they were all interrupted by a low growling sound coming from above. Madeline glanced out a window. There was a humungous, scaly yellow dragon flying above the tavern.
Madeline gulped.
The Blaster had disappeared in fright, leaving Winter Firefly, who said, her teeth chattering. “D-don't worry people! We can take this guy! After all, it's just one dragon...”
The universe felt contradictory, and the roof of the tavern was ripped off by yet another dragon, its blue scales gleaming in the light of my hallway-moon.
Everinne screamed, “Curio, you're part dragon, aren't you? Can you reason with them? Or something?”
“Well, dragons are pretty argumentative –” Curio's words were drowned out by a loud roar from the blue dragon. “But I suppose I could try, there's only two of them. Now if there were three dragons, we'd probably be doomed.”
Curio stepped slowly towards the yellow dragon as yet another dragon flew up. This one was red, like Smaug. It could even have been Smaug, it was pretty hard to tell, what with all the fog that it brought with it.
“We're doomed!” Forrest yelled, running to hide behind the remains of the lava lamp.
Bookbug leapt up onto a table. “Don't worry, friends! If we die fighting these dragons, we shall die together, fighting for the Chatterbox we hold dear! We shall die fighting, friends against foes! And after all, there are only three dragons! That's better than four, isn't it!”
“Hey, that wasn't too bad! We'll make a heroic speechmaker of you yet!” Brookeira grinned.
The CBers probably cheered, but I couldn't hear it through the crackling of three dragons breathing fire as a small, fourth dragon that was a boring grey colour landed and joined the fun.
My automatic sprinklers turned on.
END OF DAY 9. Rest In Peace, BookWizard and Indigo. Rest in Peace.
Oh dear, someone must have been mucking around with The RMS Tiny's engines! In their usual relatively safe state, those engines could not have ever in their wildest dreams produced three mighty dragons and one smaller – but still very mighty – dragon, even if it was a bit dull-coloured!
-- The Ominous
(June 27, 2015 - 8:13 pm)
topping...
(June 28, 2015 - 11:09 am)
Awww I thought I was the murderer! Still, nice death, nice death.
(June 28, 2015 - 8:01 pm)
LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED! I'VE PAID THE TOPPING FEES, SO WE CAN START. TOP! TOP! TOP!
(June 30, 2015 - 5:13 pm)
TOP TOP TOP!!
(July 3, 2015 - 4:27 pm)
Top Top
(July 4, 2015 - 5:57 pm)
Top
(July 9, 2015 - 2:49 pm)
To the top, please!
(July 14, 2015 - 12:15 pm)
The fourth page? INCONCEIVABLE!!!
(July 21, 2015 - 6:45 am)
To the top!
(July 21, 2015 - 6:46 am)
tops of tops!
(July 29, 2015 - 9:01 pm)
Top, top and away!
(August 6, 2015 - 5:25 pm)