copyright © 2003 by Robert L. Blau

    My name is Ishmael, but call me Idiot.  Some years ago, no matter how many, I booked a voyage on the hottest new ocean liner in the fleet.  Its name was the Titanic, but call it Pile of Crap.  Our captain was a one-legged psychopath named Ahab.  I won't presume to tell you what to call him.
    Somehow, Ahab didn't seem like the right choice for captain of a ship like that, so I asked my buddy Queequeg, who had also booked a berth on the cruise.  Queeq seemed to have a direct line to the rumor mill.
    "You're right," said Queeq. "Another guy was supposed to be the captain, but Ahab's oil buddies got him the gig."
    "Oil buddies?" I asked.
    "Oh, yeah," said Queeq. "Used to carry oil all over the North Sea.  Left so much of it on the surface, they knew they had to get him a different job."
    "Oh, good," I said. "But what harm can he possibly do, huh?"
    Then, just a couple days out of port, we had a close encounter with an iceberg.  Fortunately, there were several other ships in the area, and they came immediately to offer assistance.
    "Get lost!" screamed Captain Ahab.
    "Excuse us?" replied the other captains. "You have a great big hole in your hull, and you're taking on water fast.  But if we get right on it, we can pick up your passengers and crew before the whole thing goes down."
    "This is the Titanic, you bleepin' bleeper-bleepers!" screamed Ahab. "We're the biggest, toughest ship in the fleet!  We don't need your bleepin' pity."
    "Pity?  We were thinking more of saving your asses," said the other captains. "But, ok.  Have it your way."
    And they left.
    Some of us thought the captain might not be taking the wisest course of action.
    "Don't you think we should let those nice captains take us aboard?" someone suggested.
    "Aid and comfort to the iceberg!" barked Ahab. "Keel haul him!  Hang him from the yardarms!  Make him walk the plank!  In no particular order."
    "Hmm.  Maybe we should enlist the help of the first mate," I whispered to Queequeg.
    "No good," said Queeq. "He's busy running his coffee shop empire."
    "All right!" continued the captain. "Everyone is confined to quarters, effective immediately.  This is for your own protection!"
    "But we're sinking!" several people protested. "How will hiding in our cabins help?"
    "Lock those traitors up in the brig!" ordered the captain. "Now, we go after the White Whale!"
    "I beg your pardon?" I said.  I couldn't help it. "What does our hitting an iceberg and sinking have to do with a white whale?"
    "Well, we're going to get that iceberg, too," said the captain, "but the White Whale is top priority."
    "Higher than not drowning?" I asked.
    "Aye!" growled the captain. "Some people say the White Whale might have rammed some other ships sometime.  And I have pictures of it swimming among the icebergs.  Anyway, it chomped my leg off, and it's loaded with whale oil."
    Before long, the other passengers were nodding their heads knowingly.
    "It was the White Whale that smashed in our hull," said one.
    "Yeah, we won't be safe until it's dead," said another.
    "Better lie low in our cabins," said a third.
    "Glub," said a fourth.
    "Glub, glub," said the rest.
    As for me, I've been swimming for a lo-o-ong time.