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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)
"It apearse I took to long taking my leave and my doutes have gone unatended.....BUT NO MORE (OR NEVER MORE IF YOU MORE POE..ETICALY MINDED) for I have returnd to do my douty!"
* very quick booming dramatic gothic chant*
"TOP TOP TOP TOP TOP TOP TOP TOP TOP TOP HickBarAckBarDoodleBarCandyBarHeadwigHarryPotterHatPin! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!Raxacoricofallapatorius! pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis! honorificabilitudinitatibus!HickBarAckBarDoodleBarCandyBarHeadwigHarryPotterHatPin ! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Raxacoricofallapatorius! pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis! honorificabilitudinitatibus!HickBarAckBarDoodleBarCandyBarHeadwigHarryPotterHatPin ! Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Raxacoricofallapatorius! pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis!"
*ends in an uproarious crescendo*
*in on of the back pages *realy quitly* "top"
(December 10, 2016 - 11:26 am)
OMK I read like the first page of posts and was all like 'I don't reconize any of these names...' and I wanted to join so I almost submited a comment asking to untill I realized there was a lot more pages after the first, so I scrolled back up and realized this mustive been submited 2 months ago...so I started to read more and realized this was from 2 YEARS ago! Wow, I can't beilve you're still writing this! That's determination right there. *gives high five* KEEP ON WRITING!
(December 10, 2016 - 12:36 pm)
Thank you for the encouragement and enthusiasm! I would high-five you back, but being a miasma of mysteriosity makes it a bit hard.
I'm honestly not sure if it's determination or guilt that's kept this going, but I've grown pretty attached to this story, despite its occasional inconsistencies and my own lack of writing-lots-and-often-mojo. The day it ends (which is actually pretty near, thanks to an insane decision to use it as a Christmas present for someone) will be bittersweet.
Thank you (and this is for everyone else who replied recently too) for reminding me that, despite the fact that my tardiness means that most people at the start of this have left, I'm not writing to an empty audience.
The Ominous
(December 28, 2016 - 10:02 pm)
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(December 18, 2016 - 4:23 pm)
PHEW! Thank goodness The Ominous lets me be a giuney pig for their-*Claps hand over mouth* Oh, uh, er, I mean, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I mean, I've been, uh, following this RP that I totally don't know the creator's-oh, heh heh I mean the creator, uh, yeah, uh, um, yeah.
I'm, just, er, here to check on this Ski Lodge, or something. Yeah.
*Quickly regains compuser* Oh, I meant to say that I only came here to say to The Ominous:
"I'm so glad I get to see- wait, why am I writing this? I can just talk to you in person, gosh, this is awkward."
Yes. I know everything about this Ski-Lodge, even having only just posted this!!!!! MWHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!
*Quickly escapes through portal as the FBI knock on the door*
(December 21, 2016 - 3:18 pm)
The FBI, which is short for Fondue Bakers Incorporated, broke down the door. They searched the room efficiently, found no trace of the strange Chinchilla, and then proceeded to sell everyone in the area overpriced fondue mugs with book quotes on the outside and cheesy pictures of The Ominous on the inside.
I was not aware that you were a guinea pig, dear sister. Well, I suppose that explains the incessant squeaking...
The Ominous
"And the trouble with small furry animals in a corner is that, just occasionally, one of them's a mongoose" -Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad
(December 28, 2016 - 9:47 pm)
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(December 26, 2016 - 5:35 pm)
DAY 12, PART 2
* * *
The CBers clambered onto my deck via a rope ladder that was inexplicably leaning over my side. Far off in the desert, something howled. “Thank you, Cerberus!” yelled Everinne. Bookbug laid down her pack. “I wonder where the staff are? George is probably worried about us, and I haven't seen Aldo or Scotty since we crashed.”
Curio sat down, exhausted. “Maybe they're who we saw out in the desert. They must have come from the RMS Tiny, 'cause otherwise how could they have fallen from the air?”
“Unless those were aliens.” Everinne pointed out.
Bookbug shrugged. “Whoever they are, they'll have to save themselves. I'm not going out in the desert again!” She turned towards the door to below-decks.
For the third time since the potatoes had landed in this desert, something fell from the sky. The movement of it caught Bookbug's eye as she stepped towards the door, and she looked up. It landed on her head with a slight thud.
Curio raised her eyebrows. “Hey, nice top hat! Where'd it come from?”
Bookbug shook her head. “I don't know. The sky?”
Everinne grinned. “Hey, maybe one of the aliens lost their hat, and a freak wind kept it in the air until just now! This is very odd.”
Curio frowned. “I guess it's... possible.”
Bookbug shrugged. “Well, if it's an alien's hat then maybe I should take it off. It might be dangerous.” She lifted her hands to take it off. The hat trembled slightly, and Bookbug's eyes widened. “Ow! It bit me!”
“What? How does a hat bite someone?”
“It's squeezing my head!” The hat grew visibly, and slipped down over Bookbug's eyes. She grabbed the rim and tried to pull it off, but it was stuck fast. Curio pulled stale biscuits out of her pack and started pelting the hat with them. Everinne dropped her backpack and pulled out a small bag of rock-hard lemondrops and did the same. The hat did nothing except slip further over Bookbug's head. “Help! Help!” Bookbug's voice was muffled by the thick felt.
On the other side of my deck, the man with the eyebrows moved, groaning slightly. His head was still fuzzy from the guitar's blow, but he was regaining consciousness quickly. His eyes snapped open. He fumbled in his pockets, and pulled out the glowing stick. He grinned, and then pushed himself up until he was standing. “Did somebody call for help?”
Curio and Everinne looked over in surprise. “Yes, please help us!”
The man ran over to them, and started waving his stick at the hat. “Hmm. Very interesting. A Hazardous Hat, possibly from the northern regions of Hundaria, on the planet of Hoth.”
The hat slipped further, covering Bookbug's shoulders and pinning her arms to her sides. Her screams for help faded. The man's eyebrows furrowed. “Oh dear...”
“What is it? Can you do anything?” Curio asked.
The man's shoulders slumped. “I'm usually very good at this, but it's too late for your friend. I'm so sorry.”
Bookbug's knees crumpled, and she fell to my deck. “Not again!” screamed Everinne. My No-Gore Teleporters filled the air with a blinding light, and the hat landed on the deck, spinning. It was empty. The man blinked. “What was that?”
“We don't know. It seems to happen every time one of us dies.”
“This happens a lot?”
“Too often. Ever since we got on this cursed ship.”
The man's stick made a humming buzzing noise as he scanned the air with it. “Interesting... What makes this ship so special?”
Before either of the two remaining CBers could answer, an arrow flew through the air and hit him with a thud. Its shaft buried itself in his chest, up to the ragged fletching.
Curio screamed. “Somebody get a doctor!”
The man gasped. “I – I am the Doctor...”
Everinne gasped. “The Doctor?”
Another arrow appeared, and sank itself into his torso. The Doctor staggered. “Run, Hobbits! Wait, why did I say that?”
Curio ignored him. “Wait, you're The Doctor?”
“The definite article, you might say!” The man gasped. Inexplicably he was suddenly wearing a cloak. A horn hung from his side, along with a sword. “Save yourselves!” He blew a long blast on the horn, and drew his sword. A third arrow streaked towards him and hit his shoulder. This time, the CBers could see where it was coming from. On the far side of my deck, a horde of evil creatures, mostly orcs, was massing.
The Doctor's expression was suddenly bewildered. He stared down at himself in confusion. The places where the arrows had hit him began to glow. He collapsed on my deck. Curio and Everinne stared down at his glowing body, too much in shock to notice two more arrows speeding their way.
Clang! Clang! The arrows were blocked by two swords, held by two handsomely heroic men. One older, one younger. The older one's sword looked like it had been recently repaired, and it had elvish markings. The younger man was tall and muscular, dressed in extremely shiny armour. He wore a small badge on his chest that said “Ankh-Morpork City Watch”.
“Who are you?” asked Curio.
The older man waved to a tall blonde elf behind him, who ran forward and began shooting the orcs with arrows. “I'm Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Or Strider, if you prefer.”
The younger man bowed with an unnecessary flourish. “Captain Carrot, of the Watch.”
Two other men ran up beside the elf. Together, the three of them could almost have been triplets, except that one wore pirate garb and the other looked like an ancient Greek. The pirate tossed Curio a pistol. “You'll need this.” The Greek pulled out a short sword and handed it to Everinne. “And this is for you, fair damsel with the face of Aphrodite.” The pirate punched him. “Cool it, Paris!”
A host of other good fictional characters lined up behind the two CBers. A dwarf hefted his axe and asked, “Are we going to charge the enemy or not?”
Four siblings wearing crowns, two girls and two boys, walked forwards. The eldest boy raised his sword, then pointed it at the enemy. “For Narnia!”
They charged.
* * *
On the other side of the battlefield – I mean deck – the orc captain glanced up at the moustachioed, goateed, hook-handed man. “Do we attack now?”
On the other side of the orc captain, a tall, pale, noseless man fingered a wooden stick. “No, we wait for the Count.”
There was a noise at the back of the crowd, and the hordes parted.
Another tall man, this time filthy-smelling and sporting a unibrow, walked forwards. A tattooed eye glared from his ankle. He smiled. “Sorry I'm late, but one can't expect a man as handsome as the great Count Olaf to always be on time.”
The hook-handed man snorted, and then turned to face the battlefield. “We can charge now.” The orc captain raised his sword. “RAAAAARGH!” Olaf shook his head. “I have something much more original – Prepare to have your fortune embezzled!”
Hook added, “And your ship waylaid!”
The man with no nose grinned slowly. “And your scars blasted from your puny foreheads!”
The orc captain said, “I still think mine is better – ack!” From behind the masses, a black-masked man breathed heavily, his hand choking empty air.
They charged.
* * *
The engine frowned. “Maybe you shouldn't have hit there. I think you activated the Fictitious Personage Unreality Random Generator Release Gauge. Try here, instead...” George sighed, and lifted the hammer once more.
* * *
Rest In Peace, Winter Firefly and Bookbug. Rest In Peace.
END OF DAY 12
(December 28, 2016 - 1:13 pm)
Ha! I built indestructable house protected by a force feild made by the world's most powerful psionipath! I'd like to see you destroy that!
In other words, I'm glad you're back. I especially loved all the characters in day 12. I had the amazing privilage to act in a wonderful rendition of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, so I got to say: "FOR NARNIA!!!!" While waving a cleverly spray-painted sword :P It was fun. Until my tail fell off.
(December 29, 2016 - 1:44 pm)
Hello, Rosebud! I'm glad to be back, so I can finally shake off the guilt that's been hounding me for taking so long to finish this. Ol' Baskerville sure is good at guilt-inducing puppy-dog-eyes...
Thank you for the indestructible house. I'll try not to destroy it, and will instead use it as a garden shed. One never knows when some maniac might try to poison one's marigolds, or use one's potted petunias to create weapons of mass destruction (or mass flower power, that's alway's an option too...).
I'm glad you like all the characters, although if I was you, I'd be careful about liking someone like Darth Vader, or an orc...
I do hope having your tail fall off wasn't painful, are you having surgery to have it put back on? If so, I send you my best wishes for a speedy recovery.
The Ominous
(January 13, 2017 - 12:14 pm)