Episode IV- Son of the narwhal

At the bottom of the mazzlewanny trench at the deepest, darkest, most gloomy, and somewhat pleasantly jovial, part of Lake Tweed, (Not to be confused with Lake Theed, which rests bubbly at the top of mount Zap, on it’s side, (no one knows how)) son of the Narwhal sat wallowing in bitterness, having returned from receiving his false degree in Agricultural law at a prestigious university, to find his mother slain by an unknown attacker.

(How a Narwhal received passage into an accredited school dermatologists have yet to explain. Perhaps it is because he disguised himself as Lord Tennyson and applied cocoa butter to his face.)

Son of the Narwhal, or Riley, as we will call him just this once, sat contemplating who could have knocked off Ma. He determined that this foe must have been specially trained at fighting Narwhals, as well as Walrus’s and the like, for his Mother had never died before, so had obviously never encountered so great an opponent. Or at least one who could not be easily dissuaded with a small sum of devilled eggs divided into thirds. Using deductive reasoning, Son of Narwhal decided the assassin was a middle-aged woman of 82. He also determined her name was Blanche, as she dropped a note written in sideways reformed Aramaic.

 Being a big Humphrey Bogart fan he happened to know a little sideways Reformed Aramaic and interpreted the note to say, “gone shopping- Blanche”

            Son of the Narwhal was furious, he began vigorously cleaning everything in sight, (which is something he did when stressed) he mopped the floor and polished his mothers old China Cabinet. In his flustered O.C.D. state he failed to take his cherry pie out of the oven and it was horribly burnt. That was it, he decided he had no other choice but to avenge his mothers’ death and kill her assailants. So he packed a nap-sack, fed his sea cucumber and locked up never to return again (at least until spring cleaning).

Meanwhile, Blanche and skiperdoo were on an ice-fishing trip after visiting the Czarina of Tokyo, about the economic benefits of Kiwi farming.

“Wow, that’s a whopper!” as Blanche reeled in a king Salmon. Skiperdoo was pleasantly sloshing in the puddles with his galoshes. They had a jolly time making a snowman. The whole afternoon was very aesthetically pleasing… until!

The Son of the Narwhal silently floated through the dark murky water, in search of his newfound victims. He made not a sound, nor disturbed the water, in trying to keep concealed until the right moment, to take them by surprise.

Then Blanche thought she saw something far off in the distance, come up out of the water, like a fin. She paid no attention to what she saw, because she was to busy banging the Salmon’s head on a rock.

Then She heard a deafening and bloodcurdling roar, like a bull. Apparently the Narwhal had stubbed his sort-of-toes on a wall of ice. He was stuck, behind a wall of ice still left over from the ice age. He had to wait for global warming. Finally 3 days later, (it melted fast) he was free from his icy confinement to do what he had come to do. For some reason Blanche and skiperdoo were still on the little boat, after three days. The Narwhal began to increase in speed, he became faster and faster. He put forth his great horn and let out another terrible roar.

As the Narwhal came careening toward Blanche and skiperdoo, in a dead charge, and just as all hope for the two heroes seemed lost, and it appeared that they weren’t getting out of this alive...

WHAAMMM!!!!

“Sir, we’ve hit something!”

“What? An iceberg?”

“I don’t know sir, but we’re sinking.”

“No, that’s impossible, this ship is unsinkable! Quick cabin boy, go straighten the deck chairs.”

“Yes sir, but shouldn’t I get the rafts ready?”

“No I’ll do that, you just worry about those chairs.”

Yes, as you might have guessed, at this very moment there was a group of zealous and fanatical history fans reenacting the Titanic tragedy (They having done Civil War reenactments so many times they were bored of it.) with a real ship at 1/3 scale and authentic wardrobe and all.

The Narwhal was snuffed out in the very climax of his would be victory by none other than the Titanic look-alike. A very uneventful death if you ask me. But he did leave a good dent.

Blanche being a quick thinker as she was took action. She helped many of the victims of the wreck into lifeboats, and boosted their spirits. She saved dozens.

 Blanche had been on the college journalism team under the pen name Molly Black, so upon returning to America she was deemed the “Unsinkable Molly Black” for her heroics, it being a catchier name than Blanche for media ratings. The governor awarded her a trophy, before she and skiperdoo returned home.

The tattered corpse of Son of the Narwhal slowly sank to the black depths of the deep blue sea, never to avenge his late mother. And Blanche and Skippy were never aware of the deadly fate that was so near them from the terror that had been pursuing them for days.