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.