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Rivulets of oleaginous perspiration cascaded down Will Disney’s enormous chest and quadricep muscles and dribbled onto the deck of the Jolly Mackerel. As the suntanned mesomorph browsed Acme’s recent daily archives on his lemon yellow, Wifi-enabled Blackberry a grimace stole over his features. Why on Earth had he given in to the urge to check the site in the midst of his luxury cruise? Now his vacation was ruined—and no Broadway-style dance troupe, all you can eat surf-and-turf buffet or port-of-call shopping spree was gonna rescue it. Not only had the short crisis worsened, it seemed...but the dreaded Paradigm Shift had occurred! Gone once and for all, in other words, were the days when talent, creativity, good writing and intelligent discourse were rewarded or even pursued. Despite the best intentions of its founders, Acme had devolved into a corrupt, Lord of the Flies-like free-for-all of alliances, feuds, mob rule and favoritism. Result: the once prolific authors seemed to be ever more dumbstruck by the rancid stupor of boredom, listlessness, inertia and non-productivity that'd settled over the site. Some had already fled for greener pastures; others still ghoulishly haunted the site, mere cunty husks of their former selves. “No!” shouted Disney aloud. “No!” But the crashing of two turbo-waves rendered his cries inaudible. The lonely wail of a foghorn seemed to echo the anguish flowing through Disney’s soul, and he was unable to prevent an aching tightness from manifesting itself in his muppety gullet. To Disney's alarm he found he was having trouble catching his breath…and all at once he realized he was seriously contemplating flinging himself into the frigid fuck of the Mackerel’s foamy wake. The ocean seemed to be spreading its arms out to him, beckoning him… As if in a trance, the once proud purveyor of astonishing magical tricks found himself moving towards the gleaming rail with self-destructive intent. He began to hoist himself over the slippery bars. Snatches of Pink Floyd's The Final Cut ran through his mind. Closing his eyes he spread out his arms and— All at once a tremendous jolt rocked the Jolly Mackerel from stem to aft! The momentum of the blow knocked Disney ass backwards onto her deck. Thanks to the arrogance of the upper class, the great ship had collided with a humongoid iceberg! All hell broke loose as water began pouring in through her foc’sle. The Jolly Mackerel's misensail creaked ominously, and several water bobbins began to ricochet around her lub-deck. Then, just like in Titanic, the great ship’s starboard rose up into the air like a great boner! As tables, slot machines, deck chairs and super balls began crashing down around him, Disney caught sight of six babies skittering down the deck like air hockey pucks. Without pausing to think he grabbed a fishing net with one hand, hung onto an anvil thingy with the other--and with a strength he didn’t know he had, swooped them up just in the nick of time, thus saving them from certain etc. Immediately the ship miraculously righted itself and everything went back to normal. A great cheer went up—it seems that everyone on board with the exception of the bo'sun had witnessed Disney’s heroic deed. “I want to live!” cried Disney. Using the lacrosse skills he’d honed at Swarthmore, he adroitly flipped the babies to their respective mothers with the fishing net. "When we reach dry land," said Disney, "I'm gonna do everything I ever dreamt of doing in the past but was too afraid to try!"

Date Written: August 24, 2005
Author: Jon Matza
Average Vote: 4.63636