I'm on a Boat
Mafia Mom Gonna Shut Yo' Shit Down
The worst thing about being on a cruise ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean is that you can't just leave with "my mom needs me" as an excuse. Or you can if you're alright with drowning to death. The worst part? Caleb isn't even on the ship yet. He's just standing on the dock, sandwiched between his grandparents and staring. Staring at the majestic piece of boat that everyone was currently loading into.
What with all of the people bustling about the dock it looked like they were going to be in there like fucking sardines - or something equally as squished. Like the cream part of an Oreo. Either way, the point was that there was going to be no breathing room. Caleb is going to die, okay?
... But then he knows he's being ridiculous, because that boat is fucking huge. Everyone should fit, right? Like a clown in a clown car. Wait, those aren't actually a Thing, are they? Fuck.
Whatever. Caleb chooses to have faith in this ship, that he won't be strangled to death by freaking air. Or lack thereof, that is.
Caleb doesn't know anything anymore. All he knows is that he had only managed to get three hours of sleep last night because he was too busy trying to get out of this shitsuasion he put himself in. He was practically asleep when his parents asked him, okay? It was only eight in the morning, not even in the double digits yet.
This, he swears, is exactly how he remembers the conversation going down:
Mom: ... Cruise... Tomorrow... Ticket.
Caleb: Sleeeeeeeeeping...
Mom: ...Want... Go...
Caleb: Yes, yes. Is niggggggght night time.
Mom: So... Do?
Caleb: Yes, do.
Mom: Really?
Caleb: Will there be WiFi?
Mom: Yes.
Caleb: Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay--
And then everything goes blank after that. But, whatever. From what he remembers his mom so totally obviously hustled him. Cornered the baby deer when it was weak. Offered milk to the starving kitten.
You get where he's coming from?
So when he was actually awake during his standard operating hours of 12PM-3AM his mom had told him that he'd agreed to go on a cruise with his grandparents the following morning because their third guest apparently fell ill with like... Something starts with a P. Phu-numa? Poo-neumo? Oh, that's right - pneumonia. Same thing, practically.
Onwards: Caleb was all Mom you can't dew dis tew me and she was all El-o-El watch me and Caleb was like Wow you suck I hope you get gray hairs and then go bald and his mom was like that's it now it's your turn to do the dishes and Caleb was like fuuuck.
His mom was definitely in the mob or something in a past life; she has the attitude for it. He could picture it:
Standard Mobster: give me my money you stale white crustless piece of bread.
Thug: Says who?
Mafia Mom: Says me. Don't make me make you wash the nice Italian family's dishes after they've finished dinner.
Thug: *drops money and runs away in terror*
Woops, Caleb's mind is getting the best of him yet again. Shit happens.
He could have it worse, you know. He could be in a rowboat with a sleazy man who no hablo English. That would suck major male genitalia. (Actually, Caleb would probably be forced to suck male genitalia in that situation.)
Instead, he gets this (allow him to regurgitate) Majestical Ship O' Beauty.
The only problem, Caleb decided as he looked around, was the obvious fact that most of the people waiting to board didn't have all of their hair.
Or worse, maybe some were even missing teeth. And there were canes -- he swears some are bedazzled.
There's catty laughing woman pointing at overcompensating men (seriously, a toupee?). In groups, too, Heaven hold his heart.
When Caleb craned his neck hard enough, he could see a twelve year old or two, and was that maybe a fifteen-year-old girl? That's, uh, great. Should do wonders for Caleb's Summer Sex Life. It's a shame, he spent the drive to the loading dock making mental diagrams on all the fun stuff he could do with another willing human being.
Wait.
"Wait, Grandma. Do I get my own room?"
What with all of the people bustling about the dock it looked like they were going to be in there like fucking sardines - or something equally as squished. Like the cream part of an Oreo. Either way, the point was that there was going to be no breathing room. Caleb is going to die, okay?
... But then he knows he's being ridiculous, because that boat is fucking huge. Everyone should fit, right? Like a clown in a clown car. Wait, those aren't actually a Thing, are they? Fuck.
Whatever. Caleb chooses to have faith in this ship, that he won't be strangled to death by freaking air. Or lack thereof, that is.
Caleb doesn't know anything anymore. All he knows is that he had only managed to get three hours of sleep last night because he was too busy trying to get out of this shitsuasion he put himself in. He was practically asleep when his parents asked him, okay? It was only eight in the morning, not even in the double digits yet.
This, he swears, is exactly how he remembers the conversation going down:
Mom: ... Cruise... Tomorrow... Ticket.
Caleb: Sleeeeeeeeeping...
Mom: ...Want... Go...
Caleb: Yes, yes. Is niggggggght night time.
Mom: So... Do?
Caleb: Yes, do.
Mom: Really?
Caleb: Will there be WiFi?
Mom: Yes.
Caleb: Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay--
And then everything goes blank after that. But, whatever. From what he remembers his mom so totally obviously hustled him. Cornered the baby deer when it was weak. Offered milk to the starving kitten.
You get where he's coming from?
So when he was actually awake during his standard operating hours of 12PM-3AM his mom had told him that he'd agreed to go on a cruise with his grandparents the following morning because their third guest apparently fell ill with like... Something starts with a P. Phu-numa? Poo-neumo? Oh, that's right - pneumonia. Same thing, practically.
Onwards: Caleb was all Mom you can't dew dis tew me and she was all El-o-El watch me and Caleb was like Wow you suck I hope you get gray hairs and then go bald and his mom was like that's it now it's your turn to do the dishes and Caleb was like fuuuck.
His mom was definitely in the mob or something in a past life; she has the attitude for it. He could picture it:
Standard Mobster: give me my money you stale white crustless piece of bread.
Thug: Says who?
Mafia Mom: Says me. Don't make me make you wash the nice Italian family's dishes after they've finished dinner.
Thug: *drops money and runs away in terror*
Woops, Caleb's mind is getting the best of him yet again. Shit happens.
He could have it worse, you know. He could be in a rowboat with a sleazy man who no hablo English. That would suck major male genitalia. (Actually, Caleb would probably be forced to suck male genitalia in that situation.)
Instead, he gets this (allow him to regurgitate) Majestical Ship O' Beauty.
The only problem, Caleb decided as he looked around, was the obvious fact that most of the people waiting to board didn't have all of their hair.
Or worse, maybe some were even missing teeth. And there were canes -- he swears some are bedazzled.
There's catty laughing woman pointing at overcompensating men (seriously, a toupee?). In groups, too, Heaven hold his heart.
When Caleb craned his neck hard enough, he could see a twelve year old or two, and was that maybe a fifteen-year-old girl? That's, uh, great. Should do wonders for Caleb's Summer Sex Life. It's a shame, he spent the drive to the loading dock making mental diagrams on all the fun stuff he could do with another willing human being.
Wait.
"Wait, Grandma. Do I get my own room?"