Less Is Morgue Holiday Bonus Episode: Tales from The Sea
Long before ‘dying’ at the hands of his cabin boy, Captain Cishmale docks ship at a rustic, nautical tavern and attempts to prove his manliness to a group of fellow seafarers.
+transcript
Sam Sarnie: Hello, America! I’m Sam Sarnie, entrepreneur, supermarket owner, and on the run from the FDA. You may remember me from that other ad I was in. Lately, the Less Is Morgue team have been enjoying two traditional staples of British Christmas - My famous Mushy Peas Pudding Pie, and coincidental explosive diarrhea. So I’m delivering this message on their behalf while they work out the demons!
Less Is Morgue will be taking a brief break over the rest of December, with episode seven, Lights, Camera, Putrefaction coming out on January 7th! That’s right, America, January 7th! It’s a real Bobby Dazzler. I’m marking January 7th right now in my Page Three Girl calendar - Sorry Ella, my love for you will never die, even though you did, from casserole-poisoning! But wait! There’s more: Those wacky weirdos from the Less Is Morgue team may even have some goodies for you before then, but don’t hold me or them to that! I’ve been reliably informed that some of the most stonking episodes are yet to come! And that’s a good thing!
In the meantime, here’s a bonus episode giving some well-deserved pathos to everyone’s favorite tragic hero: Captain Cishmale! This is Tales from the Sea, written by my fellow countryman Charlie Porritt, and featuring the voice talents of a bunch of filthy, suet-averse Americans. Namely, Gus Zagarella, Scott Thomas, Jeremy Showell, Josh Rubino, and Zane Schacht. Gotta run, folks, there’s some cabbage that needs boiling! Happy Holidays!
SOUND: Spongebob-esque music plays, the clink of metal tankards and the low rumble of chatter fills a dockside tavern. Thomas Woke is telling a story to a group of fellow pirates.
Thomas Woke: And then, the two marooned wickies realised, there was no sense in fightin’ each other any longer. And so they both lived in harmony on that island together, and died peacefully in their sleep.
SOUND: Confused murmurings from pirates.
Short Jim Bronze: Was that really the endin’ ta that story, Tom? Thomas Woke: [wheezes] Nay, only joshin’ ya lads! One man killed the other with an axe, then was pecked to death by gulls!
SOUND: The pirates explode into raucous laughter.
Thomas Woke: [over the laughs] The looks on ye faces, I had ya goin’ there! One-Eyed William: [over the laughs] T’was truly the deeply disturbin’ psychological thriller that ye promised it would be!
SOUND: A door slams as it is thrown open, causing the laughter to abruptly stop. Heavy, peg-legged footsteps as a figure hobbles into the tavern.
One-Eyed William: Are ye lost, friend?
Capt. Cishmale: No, I’m not and I’m not ya friend, either.
Thomas Woke: If ye be lookin’ ta start trouble, ye best be startin’ it elsewhere.
Capt. Cishmale: [scoffs] Pathetic, the lot of ya. Call yaselves seafarin’ men?
Short Jim Bronze: Aye, we do. I’m Short Jim Bronze, that there behind the bar be One-Eyed William and this is Thomas Woke, our crew’s beloved storyteller. And who might ye be?
Capt. Cishmale: Ya mean ta say, ya haven’t got the faintest idea who you’re talkin’ to?
Thomas Woke: Are ye well-known among sailin’ folk?
Capt. Cishmale: Of course I am! What kinda sissy question is that?
One-Eyed William: There’s no need for hostility! Look, perchance we all got off on the wrong foot-
Capt. Cishmale: Ya dare mock me peg leg?!
One-Eyed William: T’was but a figure a speech! What say we get ye a tankard ‘a grog and ye can introduce yerself to us properly.
Capt. Cishmale: As much as I’d normally detest the idea of humorin’ a gaggle of beta males like yourselves, I’ll accept in the interest of not payin’ for service to which I am entitled.
SOUND: Drink pouring. Tankard placed on table. Cishmale glugs.
Short Jim Bronze: Err...’tis customary that we make a toast.
Capt. Cismale: [sighs] Urrgh, fine. Just make it quick.
Thomas Woke: Allow me. [to all] Should pale death and treble dread, make the ocean caves our bed, and god who hear’st the surges roll, deign to save our suppliant soul.
Capt. Cismale: Sounds like more sissy-talk to me. You boys pirates or butt-pirates? [chuckles to himself]
Thomas Woke: Ye talk a mighty big game, sailor. Man what talks so high and mighty best have the reputation ta boot. Indulge us if ya will, what’s yer name?
Capt. Cismale: You fools don’t know greatness when it sits before ya? I’m Cishmale, Captain Heteratio Cishmale of the mighty Pecker II, and as for reputations, I’m sure mine would have docked at this tavern long before I did!
SOUND: More confusion from the pirates.
One-Eyed William: Cish-male, ye say? Can’t say that any of us have heard of ye.
Capt. Cismale: Impossible, scrawny miscreant!
One-Eyed William: I literally be taller than ye.
Capt. Cismale: I’m known to be saltier than any seadogs, or seamen for that matter.
Short Jim Bronze: Very well, Cishmale. If ye truly wish to live up to yer high-talkin’, why not regale us with a tale of derrin’-do? If we ‘ere find it a testament to the manliness yer claimin’ ta have, then the lads here will hoist a tankard in yer honor.
SOUNDS: Pirates cheer.
Short Jim Bronze: If not, then you’ll be payin’ for all our drinks. Then we’ll probably bar ye, because frankly, y’aren’t pleasant company.
Capt. Cismale: Pah! Why bother? The stories I could tell ya would make all of you wet your britches, like the little girls ya all are!
One-Eyed William: Now hold on there, Cishmale. That’s no respectful way to talk about women.
Capt. Cishmale: Whadda you know, ya cycloptic cuck.
One-Eyed William: Well, now me feelin’s are hurt as well.
Capt. Cishmale: Very well, I shall tell ya a tale!
Thomas Woke: I look forward to seein’ how it compares ta mine.
Short Jim Bronze: Aye, that’s true! Before ye joined us so...abruptly, Cishmale, Tom here was tellin’ us a grim and grizzled fable, of two stranded lighthouse keepers slowly succumbing to a madness that took hold a’ them.
Capt. Cishmale: [outraged] What?! Seems awful gay to me, what are ya, Tom? Some kinda sapphic homophile?
Thomas Woke: Actually, my partner Ephriam and I have been together many a year, married at sea we were.
SOUND: Pirates all aww.
Capt. Cishmale: Enough, I already stopped listening to ya! Gather ‘round then, as I tell you all a tale that would make Neptune nut if he could hear it.
SOUND: Thundercrack, rain and the sound of waves crashing. Epic piratical music.
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] It was a stormy night, winds a-howlin’, waves a-crashin’, cheeks a-clappin’. I was a lad at the time, fresh-faced and clench-buttocked, servin’ aboard the SS Righteous Indignation under the renowned seafarin’ adventurer, Cap’n Chad Thundercock!
Capt. Thundercock: [Arrr’s for an uncomfortably long time] me laddie!
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] Together we’d scour the high seas, singin’ songs that told of the downfall of Anita Sarkeesian. For years we searched for chests to unlock, booty to plunder-
SOUND: Music and background sounds cut out.
Short Jim Bronze: Now, hold yer seahorses there! That’s quite an outdated and sexually objectifyin’ metaphor ta be usin’, it perpetuates all sorts’a old-fashioned ideas about gender equality that have no place in modern society.
Capt. Cishmale: I’ve never even looked upon a woman, why don’t ya go cry about it somewhere else!
SOUND: Music and background sounds resume.
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] Anyways, Cap’n Thundercock and I were the ideal specimens of men, rugged, muscular, with no compunction for any lilly-livered liberal ways a’ thinkin’!
Capt. Thundercock: [sounds drunk in every line] Avast, Heteratio, me fine boy! Raise that mast and chart us a course for the Zipangu regions! I hear tale that there be womenfolk there made of the finest cloth known to man! Which is just as well, seein’ as we be runnin’ low on toilet paper.
Capt. Cishmale: Aye, mighty Thundercock! [narrating] We were settin’ out, all was well, when suddenly, from out of the ocean’s bowels came a turd of grim fate!
SOUND: Music and background sounds cut out.
One-Eyed William: Caught sight of yer own reflection, did ye?
SOUND: Pirates laugh.
Capt. Cishmale: Shut ya mouth, dog! Or I’ll poke out your other eye.
SOUND: Music and background sounds resume. There is a huge wave and the sound of a ship rocking. Familiar whale noises as a certain bigmouth bass swims by.
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] I’d never seen a bass with a mouth so big, let alone in saltwater!
SOUND: Crashing, wood splintering.
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] The bigmouthed bastard struck our portside with such a force, it brought the ship’s mast crashing down. Naturally, if I’d been underneath it, I would’a easily shrugged it off with me mooscles, but poor Cap’n Thundercock had grown flabby in his old age.
SOUND: A crash and scream of pain as Captain Thundercock is pinned under the fallen mast.
Capt. Thundercock: Help me, laddie! This heavy piece a’ wood is weighin’ me down! While I’d normally joke about bein’ used to that problem, I do actually think my legs are broken.
Capt. Cishmale: But Cap’n, surely you’re strong enough to lift it! I thought you were a mighty man, young and in your prime!
Capt. Thundercock: Dang and blast it Heteratio, ye’ve seen right through me! I’m not as young as I was, thirty-five is a rough age, why just look at me balding hair and belly like the blubber of a whale!
Capt. Cishmale: But you told me those were to fool your enemies, so you could catch them off-guard and surprise them with your awesome strength.
Capt. Thundercock: I lied to ye, lad. ‘Twas out of shame that you’d think me less of a man. Ye’see, Heteratio, masculinity’s a prison, harder to escape than any gaol. It takes a man stronger than I to look at himself and say ‘I don’t have to bow to these old standards, I can be confident in mysel-’
SOUND: The swing of an axe and a fleshy squelch, Captain Thundercock screams in pain.
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] Naturally, he was talkin’ crazy from his injuries, so I hacked his legs off.
SOUND: Inspirational, uplifting music plays as the hacking and Captain Thundercock’s screams continue faintly.
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] For, ya see, Cap’n Thundercock’s words struck a chord with me, moved somethin’ deep in my soul. He was right, and that day I learned an important lesson about manliness.
SOUND: Music abruptly cuts off.
Thomas Woke: Ye came ta see, through horror at yer own actions, that masculinity be a nebulous concept?
Capt. Cishmale: What? No! Seeing Thundercock cry over his injuries made me realise that emotional sincerity is for ladyfolk, and he was right, I did think of him as less of a man. Especially after I chopped his legs off.
SOUND: Background sounds resume.
Capt. Cishmale: So there I was, trapped aboard a sinking vessel with a legless cap’n.
Capt. Thundercock: Legless? Nonsense, I’m only on me first drink a’ the day.
Capt. Cishmale: No, I meant ya had no legs.
Capt. Thundercock: Oh, my mistake, carry on with yer story, lad.
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] The elements were against us, so I did what any sane, truly-masculine individual like myself would do. I pulled my Cap’n off.
Capt. Thundercock: Pull me off, laddie!
SOUND: Suggestive grunting noises.
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] That’s right, I pulled my Cap’n off the deck where he lay, and then [beat] I tossed him!
Capt. Thundercock: No, don’t toss me, Cishmale!
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] But toss him I did, right overboard-
Capt. Thundercock: Noooooo!
SOUND: Splash.
Capt. Cishmale: [narrating] Right into the bigmouthed bass that sealed his fate with it’s...very large jaws.
SOUND: Bigmouth Brad consumes Captain Thundercock. The music and sounds of the sea fade as Cishmale permanently returns to the tavern.
Capt. Cishmale: So, ya see, the lesson I learned that day was that bein’ manly is all about bein’ the strongest lubber around, bein’ willing ta do the things that everyone else is too afraid ta do, and putting your own survival before that of others.
SOUND: Cricket noises. Beat, then sounds of a scuffle.
Capt. Cishmale: Unhand me, ya dogs! Men don’t get this close to other men, it ain’t natural! No, don’t throw me out! Nooo!
SOUND: Cishmale is hurled out of the tavern.
Capt. Cishmale: [distant] Snowflakes the lotta ya. One-Eyed William: Thanks fer helpin’ me remove that barnacled bastard from me tavern, lads!
Short Jim Bronze: No trouble, I’ll be honest we’re glad ta see him gone!
Thomas Woke: Aye, agreed. What a sizeable fool.
One-Eyed William: Well, lads, drinks all around!
SOUNDS: Pirates cheer, tavern music starts up again.
Short Jim Bronze: ‘Ere, Tom, why don’t ya cleanse our souls with some better tales? Somethin’ we can all really dissect in a meanin’ful, critical and intellectually-rewardin’ way?
Thomas Woke: Aye, I think I have just the tale. Tell me, lads, did I ever tell ye the Tale of the Black Freighter?
[YER FOND OF ME LOBSTER, AIN’T YE?]