Written by Ayane Murdoch
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

"Here's to Titanic!"

Sixth Officer James Moody held up a glass of very expensive champagne, which unfortunately had the highest alcohol content of any champagne know to man. Around him, the other officers raised their glasses. It was the first night of Titanic's maiden voyage, and the officers were going to party like there was no tomorrow!

"Excellent champagne, James! Where did you get it?" Chief Officer Wilde asked as Captain Smith walked into the Officers’ Mess Hall, where the party was taking place.

"A Mr. Caledon Hockley in first class," said Moody, taking another sip from his champagne glass. "Of course, if it belonged to Caledon Hockley, then it must be excellent champagne!"

"Don't drink too much, mind."

A few of the officers laughed at Smith's warning. Perhaps they were a little tipsy, but who really cared? It was their night, and they were going to enjoy it. What was the worst that could happen?

Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall fell out of his chair. He must have had too much to drink. And Wilde. He was practically pissing his pants when Boxhall fell out of his chair. But then again, all of the officers laughed. Apart from Fifth Officer Harold Lowe. When he got drunk, he got mad. That can't be good, now, can it?

"Lighten up, Harry! Ha ha!" Moody laughed, tears coming to his eyes--tears of laughter, obviously. He sipped the rest of the champagne and refilled it again--there were ten bottles. Cal must've been really generous.

"Drunken pigs," Smith muttered as he walked out of the room, taking a bottle of champagne for himself. Well, he wasn't going to let the officers hog all the fun, was he?

"Oi! He stole ma champagne," shouted First Officer William Murdoch, sounding more like a ned you would find drunk in the streets of Glasgow than the first officer of the grandest ship in the world. "Tha's ma champagne, ya bampot! Ya loon!" he called after the captain, much to everyone else's drunken amusement.

Slowly but surely, with every little sip--or big gulp--the officers gradually grew more drunk. It had reached a point where they fought over the champagne, Murdoch, Boxhall, and Lowe the most competitive.

"Geez ma champagne back or ah'll gee ye a doin!"

"My champagne, you dogs! You fuckers!"

"It's my champagne, so fuck off! Wankers!"

Just then, Second Officer Charles Lightoller ran out of the room. For no reason. None. Murdoch, carrying a full bottle of champagne in one hand and a stick in the other, followed Lightoller out of the room. No guesses where that stick was headed.

"Ow!" screamed Lightoller. He came running back, rather drunkenly, into the room. The stick was actually rammed up his arse! He jumped about screaming "Get it out!" while the other officers had the rather difficult--and nasty--job of removing the stick from Lightoller's backside.

Murdoch entered once the stick had been successfully removed, laughing like a really, really mad scientist who had got a tremendous buzz off of...something. He had a menacing gleam in his eye and an empty bottle of champagne in his hand.

"I'm telling mummy on you!" Lightoller shouted at Murdoch, which resulted in tremendous fits of laughter. Lightoller grabbed the empty champagne bottle from Murdoch's hand and hit him really hard in the crotch.

"Argh!"

Lowe grabbed another empty bottle and copied Lightoller. Ouch! And so did Boxhall. And Wilde. And Moody. The third officer was at the bridge. Someone had to be sober.

It was a game now. Seeing who could hit Murdoch's crotch the hardest was about as fun for Murdoch as being killed in the most painful way imaginable over and over again. Lightoller grabbed another bottle and hit him on the head this time. Murdoch was knocked out cold. Oh, dear. What a shame. Or was it?

"Oi! Jamesy-boy..." began Boxhall. "How about we gets Willie some lady-clothes like and make him wear 'em?"

Moody began to laugh. "Righ'en. Let's go, amigo!" He and Boxhall went off to get women's clothes.

That left Wilde, Lowe, and Lightoller with an unconscious Murdoch, who had no idea what was about to happen. Wilde was whispering gibberish to Lowe, while Lightoller was twirling on the spot, watching his coat swirl round. He looked similar to a dog trying to catch its tail.

"Oh, shit!" Lightoller came crashing to the ground on his backside, to a loud cheer from Wilde.

Lowe, on the other hand, grabbed Lightoller's hat, which had fallen to the ground with him, walked away rather unsteadily, and threw it in one of the toilets. "Go fetch, doggie!"

Lightoller did so. Lowe found it hysterical, whereas Wilde had passed out on one of the tables.

*****

In the first class corridor, Moody and Boxhall stumbled across Molly Brown. Perfect. Molly was always up for a laugh, no matter what the cost.

"Excuse me mish," began Boxhall, who was dancing around like a ballet dancer. "Can I get a dresh? Or a corshet?"

Molly looked at him like he was an idiot. "What the hell d'you want a corset for?"

"For Willie! We going to dress him up like a girl!" Moody began rolling about the floor with a delirious laugh that sounded like moo-hoo-ha-ha.

Molly watched Moody roll about and thought for a moment. She thought it would be funny, so she agreed. "Wait a minute. I'll get one from a friend."

Molly walked off to Ruth DeWitt Bukater's room. Moody got to his feet at last, and thought it would be funny to dance with Boxhall just as Mr. Andrews walked along the corridor. The look on Mr. Andrews’ face said it all. He was shocked that two officers were dancing around the corridor like a crap ballet act. In fact, when Molly appeared with one of Ruth's corsets, the situation worsened. At least the two officers weren't attacking each other.

*****

In the officers’ quarters, Lowe was aggressively attacking Lightoller with an empty champagne bottle, and Lightoller also used an empty bottle to defend himself--the bottles weren't broken...yet. They kept hitting each other, and jumping over Murdoch, who was still knocked out and lying in the middle of the room.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" shouted Lowe every time he hit Lightoller, to which Lightoller replied with, "I'll shove this bottle up your skinny arse!"

"Oh! I'm scared. Still, it can't be as bad as a stick, now, can it?" Lowe asked in his most sarcastic voice, actually aiming the bottle for Lightoller's backside. Lightoller kept jumping away and landed on Murdoch. Let's just say the way Lightoller was sprawled across Murdoch didn't look right. And while this was going on, Wilde was snoring loudly on the table, his right hand clutching a half-full champagne bottle.

"We've got it!" Moody skipped into the room carrying the corset, looked at the way Lightoller was lying on Murdoch, and shouted at the top of his lungs. "Charlie’s trying to shag Willie!"

Boxhall came running in at full speed, tripped over Moody's foot, and hit the floor with a thud. He laughed as he got up, although his laughing was rather uncontrollable. And sinister.

Apparently, once Mr. Andrews and Molly heard the whole story--eventually--they thought it would be hilarious, so they let Moody and Boxhall take the corset. Poor Ruth didn't know what was going to happen to her corset.

"Strip him!" a dancing Lightoller sang. "Then we'll put the corset on!"

He watched with delight as the officers undressed Murdoch until he was completely naked and tried to fit him into the corset. The hard part was yet to come.

"I'm takin' his clothes!" Lowe ran out with Murdoch's clothes and dumped them into the same toilet as Lightoller's hat had previously been thrown in. Fifth Officer Lowe was a creature of habit, so God knew what else would be thrown into that toilet. At least he didn't try to flush it.

Moody, Boxhall, Lowe, and Lightoller were struggling with lacing up the corset--they were really drunk, after all. They did get it laced up tightly after an hour or so. It was now three o'clock in the morning, and they were getting tired. Just one last prank before they went to bed.

They carried Murdoch out onto the deck, who was completely unaware that he was wearing nothing but Ruth DeWitt Bukater's white corset, and left him lying at the foot of the crow's nest where Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee were off-duty and were climbing down the ladder.

"Oh, my God!" squealed Lee with delight. He clapped his hands merrily as Fleet doubled up with laughter. It was an incredible sight. Lots of people would've paid fifty pounds to watch this--probably.

Murdoch awoke the next day, a crowd of people watching him, including Mr. Andrews. Needless to say, when he saw the corset, he let out an angry yell like a savage and ran through the laughing crowd to the Officers’ Quarters and hit all of the officers over the heads with the empty champagne bottles that were left over from the drunken party. Murdoch was not going to let them get away with that. For the rest of the voyage--the ship didn't hit any icebergs, and docked in New York--he played evil pranks on the officers all the time and embarrassed them at every possible moment. However, none of this incidents were as embarrassing as waking up on the deck of Titanic wearing a corset that belong to a middle-aged woman in first class.

The End.

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