23 July 2007
Lord Overboard
June, 1856
The HMS Bastard shook violently as the iceberg struck, sending me hurtling backwards, spilling some of the whisky from my hip-flask as I did so, which was rather irritating. As I collided with a particularly stubborn wall, I heard a small noise in among the screeching cacophony of twisting metal. It was a gentle, sobbing sound coming from a nearby cupboard, and reasoning that cupboards, on a whole, are not prone to bursting out into fits of despair, I deduced that someone must be lurking within. I made my way over, wobbling and teetering all over the place as I did so, (but still with a certain degree of style and panache), and flung open the doors of the wailing wardrobe.
“Botter!” I exclaimed, upon clasping eyes upon my man-servant, who was cowering in the furniture. “I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see you, my man!”
Botter sniffled, and dried his eyes. “It…it’s good to see you too, milord,” he began, before I quickly pulled him free from his hiding-place, and then hurled him through a nearby window. There was an almighty crash as the glass gave way, and then the wretched creature screamed as he plummeted from the ship, landing with a huge splash many feet below.
“That fellow always manages to turn up in the nick of time,” I mused aloud. “Now I can make my escape from this accursed vessel!”
By now, the ship in question had let in rather a lot of water through it’s recently-torn hull, and so I had to tread carefully as I hoisted myself up onto the edge of the window I had just opened with Botter’s head. I looked down at the sea below, and gently steadied myself for the descent.
“BOTTER!” I yelled from the stricken craft. “I AM COMING DOWN. BE SURE TO CATCH ME, OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL TEAR YOU A NEW ARSE-HOLE!”
Botter grudgingly swam closer to the ship, and readied himself. I took a swift swig from my hip-flask, straightened my tie and hat, and leapt.
“I’m sorry, milord. You just came down too fast,” Botter whined, as we swam away from the HMS Bastard, which by now was slowly sinking beneath the waves. I snorted loudly.
“I do not wish to hear your pitiful excuses, Botter,” I said. “Just prepare yourself for a life of extreme discomfort and shit-covered shoes.”
We swam out of harm’s way, and then turned and watched the great Bastard slip beneath the water. In the distance, small lifeboats crammed full of less-deserving passengers made their way out to sea, while we remained paddling in silence.
“What now, milord?” Botter asked.
“Well, firstly I shall allow you to carry me onwards. It simply will not do for a man of my standing to be seen thrashing about in the water like some sort of deranged fish.”
“Very good, milord,” said Botter, as I clambered upon his back.
“Now!” I exclaimed, as I assumed my new position on board my make-shift, servant-shaped raft. “I believe we shall head in…that direction,” I said, pointing towards a vast, empty expanse of ocean ahead of us.
“Are you sure?” Botter replied, daring to question my superior intelligence.
“Shut up,” I snapped. “And keep swimming,”
- Lord Likely, whose rather dampened spirits have been lifted by humor-blogs.com and the amusing antics of The Carrotty Kid.
