By lex, on January 15th, 2008
One day your humble scribe stirred from his slumbers at an indecent hour, his soul gnawed upon by some unformed dread. There was a strange quiet, as though the sea no longer whispered her sibilant promises upon the outer hull – something was amiss. Sleep was banished, the land of nod rapidly withdrawing over the horizon, the gyros tumbling – there would be no safe landfall that morning. Out of the stateroom then, away from my warm, inviting rack. Out unto the waiting darkness.
Profoundly disturbed in mind, I trod the deck, wandered the passageways. My sense of unease was increased rather than otherwise by discovering that the upperdeck fire watch was not at his accustomed position. We run a tight ship, you understand. We can do no otherwise. How would any of us ever sleep at the end of our labors, unless we knew that others patrolled their assigned stations, stood their watches through the thankless hours of the night?
Troubled, I went to the lower deck to seek out the sounding and security detail. To see if any welcome intelligence could be gleaned from her.
And that’s when I found them. Sleeping together!
Oh, most unnatural, most foul!
There are pictures:
Look at the guilt in her eyes. And the utter lack of remorse in his. How very characteristic.
Gender is destiny.