Episode 119: Moby Tit
When what was supposed to be a routine recording was interrupted by a strange Blooping noise, Riley and Evelyn suddenly have to deal with a giant, floating breast and the deranged seaman trying to harpoon it.
+Transcript
Riley: [each word punctuated with pauses for emphasis] Big. Anime. Boobs.
SOUND: An immense thunder crack.
Evelyn: You’re really going to start like that?
Riley: I’m not talking about your paranormal activi-titties for once, Hooper. I’m talking about a wider, cultural trend here.
Evelyn: Are you sure you’re not just trying to justify watching the second season of “Dying of the Plague In Another World”?
Riley: It’s not like I can do anything else right now, there’s a goddamn maelstrom out there. This time, it's Hurricane John Cena. Thanks, Florida.
Evelyn: It’s not like you ever go outside anyway.
Riley: Welcome to the Less is Morgue storm-cast, part two. This time we’ve left out a baggy of crystal meth for the Florida Man, so we won’t be fielding any unexpected intrusions.
Evelyn: Touch wood.
Riley: Speaking of people touching wood, let’s get back to anime.
Evelyn: You’re gonna make people mad!
Riley: They need to hear this! It’s gone too far.
Evelyn: While I agree with you, I also have to say that Japan is on the other side of the world, this podcast isn't in Japanese, and the animation industry probably isn’t going to change any time soon.
Riley: Irrelevant. This is the internet.
Evelyn: You use that argument a lot.
Riley: Because it’s irrefutable. Anyway, if you’ve watched any anime in the past two decades or so, you’ve likely noticed a pair of trends: one, that anime tiddies are getting even bigger. Two, that the people with the tiddies are getting younger. Notice, by the way, how I said “people” and not “women” - cause this bullshit affects trans guys and non-binary folks like me, too. In fact, do you ever think about how--
Evelyn: Riley, focus! Anime tiddies! Stay on task!
Riley: Right, right. So, here’s my question: how is drawing someone who looks about twelve having melons bigger than Evelyn’s head okay, but if I go to the store to buy firecrackers without my shirt on, I’d get slapped with an indecent exposure fine?
Evelyn: Well, I’d guess because you’re a real person and these are anime girls. It is super annoying though.
Riley: It must be a heavy burden for you, personally, to bear, Ev.
Evelyn: Not sure what you’re implying there, Riles.
Riley: I mean the gravity of this issue certainly affects the balance of your life.
Evelyn: Okay, okay, that’s enough.
Riley: I’m just saying, I’m here to provide the support you need.
[BEAT.]
Riley: Listeners, if those jokes went over your head...Go to our socials, look at any picture of Evelyn. She’s got some jugs. Like I mean… some bazongas.
Evelyn: I feel like you’re undermining your own message at this point, Riles. I thought we were talking about anime boobs.
Riley: I’m just pointing out that you should have more of an opinion on this, seeing as you've got more lived experience with breasticular discrimination than I do, considering I’m a member of the itty bitty titty committee, and you’re the president of the United States of having Huge Jugs.
Evelyn: They didn’t elect me! [sighs] If you want me to speak on trippy ghost problems, or lesbian problems, or the plight of being a Nickelback fan, I’ll do it. But having boobs is not something that defines me.
Riley: But it is a very central part of your physical being. Look, I just don’t wanna make sweeping statements about the representation of big boobs without getting input from someone who can judge its accuracy.
Evelyn: Well, in that case, yeah, I think it is weird the way boobs move in anime. Like, you see all these women running around and their boobs are just bouncing around everywhere like it’s nothing. If I ever tried to go for a run without double-layering my sports bras I’d end up giving myself a black eye. Not to mention the fact that it'd hurt like all heck, and probably would even if you had small boobs.
Riley: There we go! That’s the problem here - these anime boobs aren’t meant to be some realistic representation of the actual boob experience. Same with boobs in comics, same with boobs in porn, same with boobs in the Fast and Furious franchise. They’re there for horny straight men, and horny straight men only. And furthermore--
SOUND: A tremendous BLOOP noise.
Riley: Okay, what the fuck was that?
Evelyn: I’m not sure. Maybe it’s something to do with the storm? I read a report about flooding and there was something about Nuclear Super-Gators again?
Riley: No, Evelyn, Nuclear Super-Gators sound like this [Riley makes some freakish growling noises] this is totally different.
SOUND: Another tremendous BLOOP noise.
Riley: There it is again! Look at how the audio spiked - it’s fucking with our incisive social commentary!
Evelyn: Aww, and I was starting to actually get into it. Maybe we’ll just scrap this one and record again later.
Riley: You know The Less is Morgue Code: Never scrap an episode.
SOUND: BLOOP.
Riley: Except maybe this once.
SOUND: Muffled clunking of a motorboat coming down the basement stairs.
Evelyn: Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. Riley: I feel like something really stupid is about to happen.
SOUND: The basement door bursts open. Water pours into the room, carrying with it the Pecker 2 motorboat and its crew - Captain Cishmale, and Chip, the cabin boy.
Riley: And we’ve got a flood! Evelyn, save the audio equipment! [beat] Crap, Evelyn, watch me save the audio equipment.
Evelyn: Don’t get your feet wet, Riley, I used to hate that.
SOUND: The roar of the motorboat entering the room, and the scurvy laughter of Captain Cishmale.
Cishmale: Yarr, this be the scurviest man-cave I’ve ever barged into!
Chip: It smells like burnt macaroni, captain!
Cishmale: Tough titties, my boy. Grin and bear it.
Chip: Aye aye, Captain!
Riley: Great, spend two minutes talking about boobs and now we’ve summoned some.
Chip: Boobs! where!?
SOUND: Chip extends a pirate spyglass.
Evelyn: Why does this keep happening to us? I feel like it's not normal to have two different pirates on one podcast.
Cishmale: Give me that spyglass, boy. You’re much too young for lookout duty.
Riley: Look out for this!
SOUND: Riley discharges a crossbow bolt at them. Chip yelps.
Cishmale: Shiver me timbers, lassie, you almost killed me!
Chip: They got me in the foot, Captain!
Cishmale: Walk it off, Chip!
Riley: Consider that a warning shot, fuckers. The next one will get your other leg.
Evelyn: Riley, you just shot the cabin boy. Let’s maybe take it down a notch.
Cishmale: Aye! The one with the mountainous mammaries is right! We mean ye no harm!
SOUND: Boat flips over. SPLASH.
Cishmale: Man overboard, man overboard!
Chip: Boy overboard, boy overboard!
Riley: Ev, did you just poltergeist-capsize their boat?
Evelyn: [Defensive] What? It's more humane than a crossbow.
Riley: It won’t be when they come up for air!
Evelyn: One sec, lemme just close the door before all of you drown.
Riley: Or worse, before water damages the recording equipment.
SOUND: Evelyn closes the door, ceasing the rushing waters. Cishmale and Chip gasp as they surface.
Chip: Are you alive, Captain?
Cishmale: Yes, my boy! More importantly, am I alive?
Chip: You look fine to me, Captain.
Cishmale: Don't go lily-livered on me, boy.
Riley: Seeing as you’re regrettably both still alive, can you either tell me why you're flooding my basement or kindly get the fuck out of it?
Evelyn: Also, how can you see me? You're the second mortal to perceive me this month and it's kind of weirding me out.
Cishmale: Call me Cishmale. Captain Cishmale! The saltiest sea dog this side of Sarasota. I’ve seen the sorriest slew of scary sights in my time on the seven seas, and you, busty spectre, are far from the strangest.
Evelyn: Oh, so you’re a loon. Makes sense, the last guy was too.
Riley: Tasted pretty good, though.
Cishmale: This be my sailing vessel, the Pecker 2.
Chip: And I’m Chip! The plucky cabin boy who likes to quip!
Cishmale: Go soak your head! They don’t care about meetin’ you.
Chip: [reluctantly] Aye aye, Captain.
Riley: Feel free not to correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you need a full cabin to have a cabin boy. Your so-called “sailing vessel” is just a motorboat with “Pecker 2” painted onto it.
Cishmale: Well, it’s not called the Pecker 2 for nothing. The Pecker 1 was a glorious galleon, the kind a man only sees once in a trust fund.
Evelyn: What happened to it?
Cishmale: It was destroyed, the crew lost. Three hundred good men, going their own way. All because of...The Breast.
Riley: Don't you mean “The Beast”?
Evelyn: He obviously doesn’t, Riley.
Cishmale: Your voluptuous friend speaks the truth. There were but two great breasts of the sea, and before my ship was crushed between them, I launched my harpoon and took one of them down with it. The other still haunts these waters, a vile leviathan of lactate.
Riley: If you ever use that phrase again, I will shoot you. This is not a threat, it's a promise.
Evelyn: I'm really not comfortable with how this is going.
Cishmale: So you see, I’ve bought this motorboat, the only seaworthy vessel that can withstand the force of...Moby Tit.
SOUND: Lightning strikes again.
Riley: When did this become our life?
Evelyn: And death?
Riley: So, let me get this straight…
Cishmale: [Defensive] Who said I'm not straight? Nobody’s straighter than this salty seaman!
Chip: You tell ‘em, Captain! You're the masculine ideal!
Riley: Ignoring that and moving on, for the sake of my mental health. So, just to recap: You’re out there in the middle of a fucking Gatornado, hunting a giant sea-boob.
Cishmale: Sky-Boob, technically. It can fly.
Riley: Oh, my mistake. I thought for a second that this whole thing was nonsense, but thank you for clarifying about the Sky boob.
Evelyn: Kill me again.
Riley: Seeing as you're, and I mean this in the nicest possible of ways, completely fucking insane, how can we be sure that this so-called boob isn't just a figment of your diseased imagination?
Cishmale: Well, other than the raging storm the breast causes in its wake, you’d hear it coming. It makes a baleful cry like [Mimicking the BLOOP]
Chip: No, Captain, it’s like [Mimicking the BLOOP, but slightly worse]
Riley: You’re both wrong! It sounded like [Pitch-perfect BLOOP] and if that’s what’s been fucking up my audio tonight, let’s go kill this thing.
Evelyn: What, Riley!?
Cishmale: Welcome aboard, Riley of the Man-Cave.
Riley: Still got the crossbow.
Cishmale: Point taken. Save your bolts for… Moby Tit.
Riley: If I die on this voyage, tell my family nothing.
SOUND: Riley steps into the boat.
Evelyn: Riley, I can’t believe you’re literally on board with this! We can’t aid and abet the cold-blooded murder of an innocent boob! We’re both feminists, and we both cried watching Free Willy!
Riley: DON’T TELL THE LISTENERS THAT! IT’S A LIE, I NEVER CRY! EVER!
Evelyn: You look like you’re about to cry right now!
Cishmale: Nobody here is about to cry! We’re in total, rational control of our emotions.
Chip: Captain, my foot’s still bleeding.
Cishmale: [Rage] Oh, cry me a river, Chip!
Chip: It hurts like a motherfucker.
Cishmale: Who taught you that kind of language, you little shit?
Riley: Look, Evelyn. I see where you’re coming from. But whether it’s a boob, a super gator, or a goddamn floating testicle, you mess with the audio, you get shot-io.
Evelyn: Fine, I guess I’ll tag along and I totally won’t sabotage this at every step of the way.
Riley: I appreciate your honesty.
Cishmale: Well, if we’re all done smacking lips and being gay, let’s get this motorboat started!
Evelyn: I'm literally never done being gay.
Cishmale: Oh, but you will be, after you’ve seen… Moby Tit!
SOUND: Scurvy cackle from Cishmale as he rips the motor back into life.
[WEIRD AD TIME]
SOUND: A fire bursts into life in a nearby fireplace. Gentle, classical piano music begins to play in the background.
Dr. Heimer: We live in a nervous age, don't we? So much to be concerned about. Politics, climate change, that weird feeling you've been getting that's probably cancer. Insanity is a natural response to the pressures of being cursed with existence on our frenetic little globe, but that doesn't make it any less of a pain in the posterior. But you know what does? The comfort of knowing that there are so many people out there who are far nuttier than you.
SOUND: The piano music ceases. Dr. Heimer closes the piano lid.
Dr. Heimer: I'm Doctor Alfred Z. Heimer, a real psychiatrist, and an honest man. And I care deeply about your wellbeing - it pains me that there are only so many patients I can attend to in a given week, and that so many of these sessions are brief, because my patients - ahem, cure themselves so frequently. That's why I'm making my own new podcast:
The Headcase Files, an ethically dubious voyage into the heads of some of my most hopeless patients - complete with full recordings of our therapy sessions, taken and released without their knowledge, for the voyeuristic thrill of seeing another person’s darkest moments laid out onto your lap like a television dinner. Here are a few clips that will surely entice you into listening…
[A BRIEF MONTAGE OF CLIPS BEGIN TO PLAY]
Frantic Patient: Doctor, I feel like the walls are closing in. I feel like I'm giving up hope, there's got to be something you can do for me.
Dr. Heimer: Worry not, dear. I've got a list of all the tall buildings with roof access in the city, one moment…
SOUND: Static.
Disturbed Patient: I know this ain't healthy, Doc, but I'm feeling a pretty strong urge to kinda murder the living hell out of my neighbour and wear his skin.
Dr. Heimer: Well, the heart wants what the heart wants. Best heed its call.
SOUND: Static.
Depressed Patient: Yeah, I'm not sure the therapy is really working for me, it's not really improved my self-esteem at all.
Dr. Heimer: Perhaps the fact that you're stupid and rather ugly is a barrier to progress.
Depressed Patient: [Sighs] Yeah, that's probably it.
[END MONTAGE]
Dr. Heimer: If that doesn't whet your appetite, well, I don't know what will. Full names, phone numbers, and home addresses of each patient will be available in the show notes. The Headcase Files - who says therapy can't be fun?
[END OF WEIRD AD TIME]
SOUND: Storm and flooding waters. Motorboat running in the background.
Cishmale: Well, it took a few hours to get the boat up the basement stairs, but we’re on open waters now, and that's what matters.
Riley: It still kind of amazes me that you managed to do that.
Evelyn: Yeah, the rest of this all follows facts and logic.
Cishmale: Poppycock! Facts and logic are just the names I gave me testes! I lost me logic fighting the first of the breasts, but by Davy Jones’ Jockstrap, the second will not claim me facts!
Riley: Will you please stop talking?
Evelyn: It’d be a real shame if this boat were to capsize again…
Riley: Don't you dare, Hooper. I've got a Mac and like three hundred dollars worth of recording equipment on here.
Chip: [Too close to the mic] Your stuff’s really cool, Riley!
Riley: Watch it, Chip!
Cishmale: Yeah, watch it, you little bitch!
Chip: [Sad] Aye aye, Captain.
Evelyn: Don't you think you're being a little hard on him, Cishmale?
Cishmale: The boy needs discipline! You can't let your Chip slip.
Riley: Terrible, but effective.
Cishmale: He needs all this if he wants to be strong. The poor boy’s been through enough already - show ‘em, Chip. Take off yer shirt.
Riley: Woah, woah, what's going on here? Do I need to call somebody?
Chip: It’s okay, just look.
SOUND: Chip takes off his shirt. Everyone gasps.
Evelyn: He’s made entirely out of wood! How is he alive?
Cishmale: He wanted to be a real boy, but he sucked at it. So now only his head and left foot are made of flesh.
Chip: Kinda wish you shot the other one, Riley.
Riley: I thought this was a swashbuckling voyage, not a guilt trip.
Cishmale: Alright, put your shirt back on, boy. You disgust not only me, but everyone.
Chip: Aye aye, Captain. You don't need to tell me twice.
Cishmale: And don’t get splinters in the cotton. That’s polynesian fabric, so I’ve been told… by a stupid lady.
Evelyn: Jeez, what is your problem?
SOUND: Two Nuclear Super Gators roar up with the same noise that Riley made when talking about them.
Riley: Who cares what his problem is? We’ve got incoming Nuclear Super Gators!
Chip: What’s the difference between a nuclear super gator and a regular gator?
Riley: No carbon emissions!
Chip: It must have been my foot blood! They were drawn by my foot blood!
Cishmale: If you say foot blood one more time, you won’t have a leg to stand on!
Evelyn: You’re awful!
Cishmale: Awfully mad! Riley, you take the one on the right, I’ll harpoon the left! Chip, drive the motorboat betwixt them!
Chip: Aye aye, Captain!
SOUND: Motorboat speeds up. Crossbow-loading noise.
Riley: This is for Steve Irwin, you scaly bitch!
Chip: Wasn’t it a stingray that killed Steve Irwin?
Evelyn: [Gasps] Steve Irwin’s dead?
SOUND: Crossbow shot kills Nuclear Super Gator.
Cishmale: The only ‘poon you’re getting is a harpoon!
SOUND: Cishmale kills the other gator.
Evelyn: How could you make killing a Nuclear Super Gator awkward?
Riley: Yeah, I wanted a minute to celebrate how dead-on that shot was, but then you had to Cishmale all over it.
Cishmale: Well, they’re dead, alright? I’ll come up with something better next time.
Evelyn: Please, for the sake of everyone, don’t.
Chip: Hey, can we maybe bandage my foot please, guys? I'm starting to feel woozy here…
Cishmale: I find your lack of resolve as disgusting as your mutilated foot, boy. We’re so close to finding… Moby Tit, you can't just quit now because you're “dying” of “blood loss.” Man up!
Riley: And I’m starting to get hungry for feet. Not in a weird way.
Evelyn: Just reminding you that, despite the rocking of the boat, our audio is still live.
Riley: I gotta say, really impressed with the quality of my audio equipment today.
Evelyn: Yeah, it’s almost worth putting it and all of our lives and dignity at risk to get revenge on something for two seconds of interrupted audio.
Riley: [gritted teeth] You mess with the audio, you get shot-io.
Cishmale: It won’t be long now, until the breast is laid bare before us. I can feel the tingling in me short hairs and me long johns.
Chip: I can’t feel anything!
Evelyn: I can’t feel anything either. Except for an all-consuming rage.
Riley: Hey, I don't like him either, but I'm willing to put massive ideological differences aside to destroy a common enemy.
Cishmale: Right, what they said.
Chip: I wish I could see ghosts.
Cishmale: You're not missing much - all she does is whine.
Evelyn: Hey!
Cishmale: Look, lass, I calls ‘em like I sees ‘em.
Chip: How big are her boobies?
Cishmale: Good question, lad. They’re somewhere between a Z and a Z minus.
Evelyn: You don’t know how cup sizes work, do you?
Cishmale: Nobody does. Those letters are arcane! Just like W-2 forms. I’m not a dependent. I don’t even know the meaning of the word!
Chip: It means--
Cishmale: [Furious] Every second with you! Stop being so dependent on my approval!
Evelyn: Riley, can I ask you a favour?
Riley: Sure.
Evelyn: I wanna speak to Chip. Could you pass my messages over?
Riley: I'm not sure why you'd want to speak to either of these guys, but fuck it, why not, I guess.
Evelyn: Tell him that I’m really concerned about him. As far as male role-models go, Cishmale might actually be the worst one there is. Especially for someone so young and impressionable.
Riley: Is that all?
Evelyn: I want him to know that he’s still got a lot of time to figure himself out and he doesn’t have to reach some pivotal stage of development while hunting a sky boob with a mad, misogynistic sea captain.
Riley: Got it, got it. [Beat] Hey, kid. Don’t grow up. It’s not fun to be an adult.
Chip: Oh. Okay.
Evelyn: Riley!
Riley: Also, my ghost friend thinks you have potential.
Chip: Potential for what?
Riley: Potential for not being as big a dick as this guy.
Chip: But what if I want to be a big dick?
Riley: Good point. I can't dispute that.
Evelyn: I’m breaking out an old favorite for you, Riley. Here comes the Evelyn Hooper facepalm.
SOUND: Ghostly whap.
Riley: You’ve been practicing?
Evelyn: I invented it!
Chip: I'm really confused. How can I practice being a big dick?
Riley: I think what my ghostly partner here is trying to say is that Cishmale is a weird asshole that treats you like crap, so why would you want to be like him?
Cishmale: Don't listen to them, Chip, they're putting poison in your delicate ears!
Chip: Oh, I don’t like poison!
Riley: You just haven’t had good poison.
Evelyn: I swear, Riley. I’m about to say the F-word on our show again.
Cishmale: Chip has always wanted to be a real boy, and I told him, in exchange for his cabin boy services, I'd do him one better and make him a man. And what better way to become a man than vanquishing... Moby Tit.
Riley: I mean, that’s not the only way to become a man, though.
Cishmale: [Sarcastic] Oh, in that case, let’s turn this ship around, shall we! We’ll all just have a seminar about whether animals have feelings. Are you crazy?
Riley: You want to know how easy it is to be a man? Speak from deep in your chest, wear a ton of blue, and always tell people about how much you love your golden retriever. “Man” and “woman” are two words invented by marketing gurus to shill pink razors and Old Spice. You give them your identity, they’ll sell it back to you.
Chip: That sounds even worse than poison!
Cishmale: You leave my excellent 2-in-1 shampoo and deodorant out of this!
Riley: Or what? You’ll be on a horse?
Evelyn: I don’t get it, but yeah, get off your high horse!
Riley: Nice.
Cishmale: Whose side are you on, anyway?
Riley: The only side I'm ever on: Mine! [Beat] Wait, why did it just get so dark?
SOUND: Loudest BLOOP noise. It sounds like it's right above them.
Cishmale: It’s here! The great breast! At long last! Absolution! We’ve come face to teat with… Moby Tit!
Riley: Shit. That’s a Z cup if I’ve ever seen one.
Chip: It’s so beautiful, Captain! I can’t look away!
Cishmale: Avert your eyes, boy! It’ll drive you morny! That’s mad and horny at the same time!
Evelyn: What’s it even connected to?
Cishmale: I’ll tell you what it’s not connected to: Anything good! [Beat] Here’s to years of personal and sexual frustration, you overgrown melon!
SOUND: Cishmale grunts and throws the harpoon. It makes a fleshy “thud.”
Chip: It looks like you’ve pierced the nipple, Captain!
Cishmale: [Throaty cackle] The climbing rope is in place, lad. Now I’m gonna finish the job. The boob job!
Riley: That thing has a harpoon lodged in its areola and It hasn’t even noticed us.
Evelyn: Yeah, it actually seems totally harmless.
Riley: It’s a sitting duck! Perfect!
SOUND: Riley loads the crossbow.
Evelyn: Riley, no! It’s just living its best life.
Riley: Yeah, well, I'm gonna help it die its best death.
Evelyn: You are not shooting this boob today! I may not have real feet anymore, but I’m putting them down!
Riley: Evelyn, your all-consuming rage is starting to shake the boat. Can you just let me line up the shot first?
Evelyn: You might think you’re helping save the episode, but if you do this, you’ll be undermining your whole point. You’ll be no better than that maniac climbing a weathered rope towards a giant Nipple.
Cishmale: [Distant] Yuck! I can see its veins! Curse you… Moby Tit.
Evelyn: Listen to me, Riley. I know what happens when you mess with the audio…
Riley: [Deadpan] You get shot-io.
Evelyn: Right, but you have a thesis statement to prove! And isn’t proving that you were already the smartest person in the room more important to you than petty revenge?
[BEAT.]
Riley: Well, I guess when you put it that way: Fuck this.
Evelyn: Yay! Non-violent solutions!
Riley: Not entirely.
SOUND: Riley shoots a crossbow bolt at Cishmale.
Cishmale: Ahh! The ghoul shot me in the facts!
SOUND: Cishmale falls, wailing, into the water below.
Riley: And my mom said that online crossbow course was a waste of money. Joke’s on her, she’s next.
SOUND: Cishmale surfaces, gasping for air.
Cishmale: [Artificially pitched-up] It takes more than two burst testicles to defeat Captain Cishmale! Facts and logic were just weighing me down, anyway!
Riley: Damn, should’ve brought more bolts. Though in my defense, real dick move of him to not die.
Evelyn: Where’s a Nuclear Super Gator when you need one?
Cishmale: Chip, pull me aboard, boy!
Chip: Aye aye, Captain!
Riley: Chip, wait! Remember what I told you.
Chip: No carbon emissions?
Riley: Evelyn, what did you say again?
Evelyn: Chip, you can do better than that guy!
Riley: There. What Evelyn said.
Chip: What did she say?
Riley: Crap, what was it?
Evelyn: Oh for fuck’s sake!
SOUND: Evelyn possesses Riley.
Riley - Possessed: Chip, this is Evelyn! You don’t have to listen to Cishmale, you can be your own man! It’s as easy as being yourself!
Chip: But myself is made of wood. Riley - Possessed: Some of the best men are made of wood!
Chip: Really? Riley - Possessed: When you’re middle-aged, you’ll understand!
Cishmale: I don’t know what you two are doing in front of me favorite cabin boy, but it looks stupid and gay! [Beat] Chip, help me! As a man, you’re the only one with the upper body strength necessary to do it!
Riley - Possessed: His arms are literally twigs! You can’t ask him to do this.
Cishmale: He’ll do it! If he wants to be a man, he’ll save his captain! And then both of us together will take down…
SOUND: Cishmale struggles under the water for a few seconds before resurfacing.
Cishmale: Moby Tit!
Riley - Possessed: Chip, can’t you see he’s just using your identity to live out his own messed-up idea of masculinity?
Chip: But I can’t come up with any non-messed up ideas on my own!
Riley - Possessed: It doesn’t matter. You want to be a real boy, right?
Chip: Of course!
Riley - Possessed: Then congrats, you’ve been a real boy all along.
Cishmale: Even my unlimited manly stamina has its limits, boy. Stop listening to all that nonsense and save your captain!
[BEAT.]
Cishmale: Boy?
Chip: Go soak your head, Captain.
Cishmale: What!?
SOUND: Evelyn un-possesses Riley.
Evelyn: Yay! You did it, Chip!
Riley: [Groggy] I did it…
SOUND: Cishmale begins to drown.
Cishmale: You’re choosing to honor your petty whims over the lives of others? You really are a man! I’m proud of you, Chip! I’m proud of--
SOUND: Cishmale’s final “you” trails off as he submerged.
Riley: Thanks for the assist, Chip.
Chip: No problem, Riley! Now if you’ll excuse me, this man’s got a date with… Moby Tit!
Evelyn: Oh no, he’s internalized Cishmale’s warped view of manliness!
Riley: I feel like that’s fairly self-evident.
Evelyn: Don’t make me hop back in there!
SOUND: Chip grabs the rope and starts climbing!
Chip: I’m gonna touch a boob! I’m gonna touch a boob!
Riley: Oh no, you're not!
SOUND: Riley wrestles Chip off the rope. They fall back into the boat; the boat rocks.
Chip: You can’t keep me from my destiny! I will destroy… Moby Tit.
Riley: What do we do now, Evelyn?
Evelyn: We’ll deal with Chip later, first, we need to get the Moby Tit to safety.
Riley: How!?
Evelyn: A job this big requires the gentle touch of a lesbian. Watch and learn--
SOUND: Evelyn makes noises that sound like whalesong. There's a Bloop from the Moby Tit.
Riley: You speak boob?
Evelyn: I speak for the boobs, for the boobs have no tongues.
Riley: What are you on right now?
Evelyn: Shh!
SOUND: Evelyn makes more strange whale noises, the Moby Tit bloops back, then drifts away.
Evelyn: Off it goes, to greener pastures.
Chip: No! What am I gonna do without my destiny?
Riley: You’ll find a better one, probably. One that doesn't smell like sea-salt and shame.
Chip: [Sighs] Well, I’ve always wanted to live to be middle-aged.
Evelyn: That’s a great goal, Chip. And harder than you'd think.
Riley: It’s a start. [Beat] Huh, looks like the storm’s passed over, but the flood will probably last a couple days. Reckon you can get us back to the basement, Captain?
Chip: Oh, but the Captain’s-- [Gasp] Aye aye, me!
SOUND: The motorboat’s engine fires back up.
Evelyn: Looks like we’ve freed Chip!
Riley: And it only took some boob discourse, three crossbow bolts, and-- Oh god, almost all the battery on the laptop! We better wrap it up.
Evelyn: And just remember, listeners, whether your boobs are big, small, or not there at all, we here at Less Is Morgue think you're pretty rad.
Chip: Has anyone seen my foot?
[THE END]