Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean



The English sailing barque, Oceanis, rests on the arid sea floor after having been dropped from the surface. The Atlantic Ocean is nowhere to be found.



NovaCatt (Leaning over the gunwale)
Well, 'ats something you don't see every day.

The crew scrambles to trim the sails, clearly ignorant of their current situation.

Neurotoxin (Turning to face the quarterdeck)
Skipper! Where the hey are we?

Skipper (With his face buried in a massive chart at the helm)
By my map, Saudi Arabia.

Neurotoxin
Hmm, that could be a problem. Navigator, find us some ocean!

Muffled Voice
Aye, sir! Should we climb down and portage in the meantime?

Neurotoxin
Negative, I'll see about hailing the nearest salvage company -- let them know they'll need to bring a drydock with them.

NovaCatt
A drydock? We're in the middle of the desert. I doubt we'll be needing a drydock, mate.

Neurotoxin (Pondering)
Fair enough. I'll tell him to return the Atlantic, then.

Several hours pass.

Deckhand in the Crow's Nest (Observing another vessel in the sand through a spyglass)
Saaail ho! Barque on th'horizon, cap'n!

Skipper (Waking up at the helm frantically)
Yarrr! Trim th'sails and bear down on her -- we're gonna bag us some loot, me hearties! Ready the cannon smartly!

The crew laboriously haul the sails and take to working the deck. They finish with an awkward silence, noting their lack of movement or air flow.

Skipper
Blasted rats! Took our wind, too!

Neurotoxin (Leaning over the gunwale and pointing to the sand below)
I don't think that's our problem.