Disclaimer: This is a gentle and hilarious take on the movie Titanic, as conceived by one James Cameron. We don't mean to make light of the actual Titanic disaster, nor of the people who lost their lives that evening. This is strictly about the movie. Which is hilarious on its own, but we made it so much better. Now get to reading.
Note:
Hi everybody!
Thanks for reading! Please keep in mind that this is supposed to be funny, so things can get a bit silly at times! POVs change a lot because it makes things more fun, and we decided to spice things up a bit by referring to third person POV as "Jesus Christ's POV." So, you know. Just roll with it! I promise if you give it a chance you'll end up loving it!
We strongly recommend watching Titanic to fully understand all the nonsense that goes down in this story! We assume that you've seen it at one point or another since it was released in 1997, unless you live under a rock, but it's always good to have a refresher! This story follows along with the movie scene by scene, though we have added a BUNCH of things that were not in the movie... but should have been!
Now, sit back, relax, grab a drink and prepare to see the side of Titanic James Cameron didn't want you to see.
~*~*BROCK'S POV*~*~
So I was twenty thousand leagues under the sea with my friend/employee Fatty and we were stalking Titanic. By which I mean the ship. The almost hundred year old ship. We were using a robot device to move wreckage aside. I need to find the diamond that was on the ship. Need to. Idk why. I just do.
~*~*FATTY'S POV*~*~
"You're so full of shit, Boss," I told my boss Brock after he narrated what he was doing into the video camera. I call him Boss because he's my boss. Also because he's boss, like the cool kids say.
But Boss wasn't paying attention anymore. He peered closer to the screen, where I was using the robot claws to move aside debris.
"What's that?" he asked.
I hoped that by "that" he meant the cool shirt I had just bought, which depicted a happy face with a bullet in its head. It was sitting in a plastic bag by my feet. I'd bought one for me and one for Boss, but he hadn't mentioned it all day. His was in a gold gift bag with glitter and ribbons and a tag that said "TO: BOSS. FROM: LEWIS BODINE, YOUR FRIEND/EMPLOYEE." But he still hadn't touched it.
~*~*BROCK'S POV*~*~
"What's what?" Fatty asked.
"Get in closer," I directed. Fatty moved the robot arms to my liking and there it was. The safe. I smiled creepily.
So then it was later and we'd called the press, the CIA, the FBI, and especially the coast guard, to all gather round me as my minions wrenched open the safe. This was my moment. This was my time to shine.
At last, the safe was forced open and a bunch of gross-looking brownish/reddish liquid spurted out. Despite the fact that I was wearing a long-sleeved thick wooly sweater, I thrust my eager arm, sleeve and all, into the safe to pull out what I could find. This sweater doesn't matter. Idk where I even got it from, anyway.
~*~*FATTY'S POV*~*~
It was from me. I bought him that sweater. God damn it.
~*~*BROCK'S POV*~*~
I rummaged my sweatered arm all around and inside of and between and betwixt the safe, feeling around for something hard and diamond-like. But all I felt were a bunch of soggy, wet papers. I pulled them out and rummaged around one more time, feeling every corner with my fingers and the sleeve of my sweater, making sure to feel every nook and cranny of the disgusting, liquidy safe. But it was empty. I could feel my erection deflate. It did not feel good.
I looked up and saw that Fatty had thrust the camera in my face. "Turn it off," I said, all pissy-like.
So then I was on my boat, watching as my minions used ayo to carefully recover the contents of the papers that weren't diamonds. Not that anything matters anymore.
"It's koo, it's koo," I said into the phone to my investors. By which I mean Grandma. "We found important stuff. It wasn't a waste, I promise." As I lied, I looked up on the screen and saw that one of my minions was currently using a stream of water to brush action off what appeared to be a drawing of a sexxi naked lady. "Hold up," I told Grandma, stepping closer to the minion. The drawing was sexxi. I could get off to this.
And that was when I saw it. The sexxi lady was wearing the diamond.
"I'll be god damned."
~*~*~*~*~*Old Rose's POV~*~*~*~*~*
So it was morning, another morning on this damn earth; why couldn't I just die already? I laid in bed for a long time, thinking of my long lost love, before I hollered for my granddaughter, Lizzy, to tend to me.
"Lizzy! Lizzy I need tending!"
"I'm coming, Old Rose," Lizzy replied, scurrying into the room to tend me. She pulled me out of my bed, my old bones cracking along the way, before I shrugged her off.
"I got it, bitch."
"What do you want to do today, Nana-Old-Rose-Person?"
"What I do every day. Make pottery."
"Sure, sure," Lizzy said, dragging me along towards the living room. We had to jump over the dog at one point, but all was G. I'm old but I'm spry.
"I demand you make me a sandwich while I make masterpieces," I said, giving her a pointed look. Well, it was more diagonal because she was standing diagonally from me. "I would like a peanut butter and roast beef sandwich. No crust or I'll have to get the hose again," I sassed, although I was not kidding. The last time she left the crust on, she got the hose.
So then Lizzy went off to make my sandwich and I went off to make my pot.
Pottery. Not marijuana. I don't do that stuff.
Not anymore.
Not like this.
Not this night.
There was that time back in college, when I was mourning my long lost love, that I decided to try and overdose on Pot. But then I remembered that damn promise I made to Mr. Dawson and realized I had to not overdose. So I didn't. And I lived.
Again.
I'm a survivor, you know.
Anyway, I was halfway done making my pot(tery) and I could smell that my sandwich was almost cooked. My hands were covered in filth and I swooped and swirled them around the clay type stuff, but I heard something on the television that made me boing. I grabbed my cane, with my filth-covered hand, and hobbled my way into the kitchen.
Lizzy, who had my sandwich now prepared, which smelled like it still had the crust off, where is that hose, looked at me with a quizzical look.
"Eh?" she asked.
"Bitch, turn that up."
My eyes were glued to the TV with Elmers Glue as I stared at myself being revealed. I could recognize my own fabulous breast (single. Only one) from 1912 any day. My jaw dropped, from the sight of my own boob and the crust left on my potentially delicious sandwich, and Lizzy looked at me with a giant question mark on her forehead.
"I'll be god damned."
"What is it, Nana?" Lizzy asked.
"Bitch please," I dismissed her. I did not have time for her questions. I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the screen. I had been holding this secret in for decades and decades, and now-finally-it was time to let it out. This had to be why I was still alive.
"Hello?" a man answered. He sounded like he had some stuff on his nose. But that was just a guess.
"Oh," I said, all casual-like, "I was wondering if you had found the heart of the ocean yet."
"EH?" he asked. "Do you know who the woman in the picture is?"
"Oh, yes," I said, all casual-like. "The woman in the picture is me."
"Oh my gah hold on! I'mma give le phone to my boss. When he gets on, say EXACTLY WHAT YOU SAID. EXACTLY. WORD FOR WORD."
"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite," I said. "But I don't have all day, bitch."
While I waited, I glanced forlornly at my pot. I needed to get back to that. I could tell Lizzy was desperately trying to make eye contact with me, but I wasn't having it. I wasn't going to answer her questioning questions standing in my kitchen like some harlot. I had been planning how I was going to tell my story for a long time, and this wasn't it.
I overheard the man on the phone telling someone, "You have to speak up, she's kinda old."
That bitch.
"Hi Rose," said some other man. "How can I help you?"
"I was wondering if you had found the heart of the ocean yet," I said, not as casual-like as before because I was getting sick of this shit.
I heard him boing. "You have my attention, Rose," he said. "Can you tell us who the woman in the picture is?"
"Oh, yes," I said, le sighing. "The woman in the picture is me."
~*~*~*~*FATTY'S POV*~*~*~*~
Fuck everything.
I textied Boss once LAST NIGHT and again THIS MORNING asking if he wanted to be twinsies and wear the bullet happy face shirt today. He didn't respond. Well, he DID respond. But not to what I said. I got a texty from him last night:
Fatty: HEY BOSS! Did you wanna be twinsies tomorrow and wear our happy face bullet shirts?!
Fatty: Hey...idk if you got my text... but I'm getting dressed for work was wondering if we were gonna be twinsies...
Boss: There's a break in the case! We found the woman in the picture! Show up early!
To which I had responded:
Fatty: Cool! Did u see my text about the shirt?
...and he didn't say shit.
Whatev. I was wearing the shirt and it looked sexxi. So fuck Boss. And fuck Rose.
"Srsly, bitch?" I asked Boss when I showed up to work that morning. "She's a god damned liar! What makes you think she's the girl in the picture? The only person on Titanic named Rose was Rose DeWitt Bukater, who died on that ship. I googled the fuck out of this bitch, and before she got married she was Rose Dawson, and was an actress. AN ACTRESS! There's your first clue." Ugg. Boss was walking fast and I had to scurry to keep up.
"Anyone who knows about that diamond is either dead or on this ship," Boss said, using his erection to pole vault himself further along to le helicopter pad. "But SHE KNOWS."
"If she survived the sinking of le Titanic, she'd have to be over 100."
"She'll be 101 next spring."
"Okay, so she's a VERY OLD god damned liar!"
Boss just le shrugged.
I ugged some more and stood behind Boss as the helicopter landed, getting wind all up in my face/beard. I watched as the helicopter opened and a spry bitch came out, along with this alleged Rose bitch in a wheelchair. She had a small white terrier and a thousand suitcases, and she handed a goldfish bowl to Boss, as if he was nothing more than a minion.
"DOESN'T EXACTLY TRAVEL LIGHT, DOES SHE?" I shouted to the minion on my right.
~*~*~*~ Minion on the right's POV ~*~*~*~
Why is this fat man talking to me?
~*~*~*~* Brock's POV ~*~*~*~
My erection to talk to this old sexxi bitch was huge. I could barely contain it. She just arrived on this ship type action a few minutes ago, but I was already sprinting (literally) towards her room. I had so many questions!
"BRO! BRO WAIT UP! BRO!" Fatty called out to me, through his heavy breathing. He could not run very well. He was very fat.
I groaned loudly, "Bitch, what?" I asked, stopping my effortless sprinting and turning around to look at him. Sweat was running down his forehead. It reminded me of that worthless guy in Simple Plan. "And I'm not your bro."
"No, Bro as in short for Brock, not brother." He was still panting.
"Oh, okay, I'll accept that."
"Why were you running?" he asked, bracing his sweaty palms against his sweaty thighs as he tried to catch his breath. Perhaps we should set up a meeting to talk about his diet. I could have one of the minions create him a meal plan and exercise routine.
"Isn't it obvious?!" I gasped. "I have so many questions!"
"For the ACTRESS?" he asked bitterly.
"Here," I said, whipping out a snickers bar and tossing it at him like the filth he is. I watched as it bounced off his ugly shirt and fell to the ground. His eyes lit up like a beacon on the shore as he eagerly bent down to retrieve my treat I gave him. "Enjoy it while it lasts. I'm scheduling a meeting to talk about your… condition later this week."
Fatty was too busy unwrapping his treat to hear me.
I took that as a perfect opportunity to continue my sprint towards Old Rose.
"What, bitch?" Old Rose asked when I finally caught up to her. She had already settled in to her cabin, and her sexxi granddaughter Lizzy was putting away her action like a good lad.
"Um… I was wondering how you were settling in," I said, all worried and concerned-like. "Is everything okay? Is everything kosher? Is it G? Can Fatty get you anything?"
"Have you met my granddaughter?" Old Rose asked. "This is Lizzy. She's my bitch."
"We already met, Nana," Lizzy said. "Up on the deck. Literally two minutes ago. Literally."
Old Rose le shrugged. "The fuck do you expect; I'm 100 years old. I'm in the goddamn trip didge. Y'all should worship the ground I walk on."
Fatty cleared his throat and rolled his eyes and made some disapproving grunts and whinnies.
I sighed. "So… you're good? Can we dispense with the lube? Get this show on the road? Get this party started?"
"I would like to see my picture."
So then I was showing Old Rose her picture in the little water bucket action. I'd already gotten off to it several times, but I fished some of my semen out of the water. She won't suspect a thang.
"Do you really think that's you, Nana?" Lizzy asked cuntily.
"That is me, bitch. Wasn't I a goddamn treat?"
I had to agree.
"Ite, Rose," I said. "I have a test for you. I tracked this action down through an old claim from insurance records. What name was the claim under, Rose?"
"Oh, idk," she said all casual like, shrugging and looking around the room. "Someone named… oh, I don't know… HOCKLEY?"
My erection sprang to life. "YES. YES. Oh my gah. Yes. And if you are who you say you are, you were wearing le diamond le night the ship sank. And that makes you MY NEW BEST FRIEND." I grinned adorably at my new bff.
~*~*~*~*Fatty's POV*~*~*~*~
This goddamn asshole. I ripped off my custom-made LEWIS AND BROCK BFFS FOREVER necklace and threw it in the garbage. Boss never even fucking wore his half anyway.
I watched as Old Rose went down memory lane and gasmed over all the crap we recovered.
"This was mine! How extraordinary!" she gasmed, picking up a fugly butterfly hair clip with gangrene all over it.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Brock said, throwing le hair clip out of her hands. "Whatev. Let's get to the diamond. Are you ready to go back to Titanic?"
I gleamed with glee. This was my time to shine.
"Iite, sit your old ass down. You're in for a fucking treat," I said, pushing Rose down into a chair. I may have broken her hip, but whatever, this was my moment. I eagerly turned on the computer and swiveled the screen around to face her. "So look, there was this ship, right? Titanic. It was called Titanic. It was this ship that people died on."
"Are you fucking serious?" Rose butted in like the rude person she truly was. Doesn't she know it's my time to SHINE?
"Did I say you could speak?" I asked, flashing her the knife hidden in my bra. (I'm a big guy, okay? They sag.) She understood what this meant and shut her old mouth. "ANYWAY, so there was this big boat that took off in like, Ireland or some shit, right? It was HUGE. The biggest ship in the WORLD. In all HISSStry, as this dude Astor said this one time. Don't ask me how I know things, okay? I'm really smart. This fat head is full of brains, not just fat. You got that?!"
"Yes," Rose answered, obedient for the first time EVER.
"Okay so this boat was going across the sea, but it was really cold outside! And it hit a fucking ICEBERG, can you believe that?!" I grinned happily, looking around the room for the appropriate reactions to my intense story.
"Where did you find this guy?" Lizzie whispered not so quietly to my ex-bestie Brock.
"Idk, he just showed up one day and started calling me boss."
"Do you even pay him?"
"No. But he eats us out of house and home. Especially because we're on a boat and not in a house, nor a home. Ya feel?"
"I feel."
"ANYWAY," I said, glaring at ex-bestie and mom-jeans. "So after it hits this iceberg everyone's like ohhhh nooooooooo! That's awful! But don't worry because this ship is totes unSYNCable. No strings attached. See what I did there? Anyway, then it turns out that the boat JUST GOT PAID IT'S FRIDAY NIGHT-no, I'm kidding, but it turns out the boat is totes sinkable and it starts to sink. Sink. Sync. Nsync."
"DO YOU HAVE A FUCKING POINT?!" Rose yoddled.
"Yes."
"Oh, okay, continue," she said, sitting back down because apparently she stood up at one point.
"So the ship starts sinking and it goes like this, SKKKKKITTTTT," I said, making the sound FX as I imitated a ship splitting in half with my hands. It looked very realistic. Maybe I should have warned everyone this story was graphic before I started. "And so, like, the first half of the ship just barrels towards the ocean floor. All those fuckers are dead. RIP. Gone. Which, funnily enough, is another Nsync reference if you're as knowledgeable of them as I am. If you had to rate yourself, Rose, on a scale of 1-10 of your knowledge of Nsync, what would you give yourself?"
"Ehhhhhhhhhhh, probz like a 2."
"Blasphemy."
"Sorry, pal. Can you continue your story? I'm really into it. I can't wait to find out how it ends."
"Right, right." I nodded, wiping the pie crumbs from my beard. "So then the other half of the ship is just bobbing at the surface! And those people on THAT part of the ship were NOT dead yet, but hehehehe they're gonna be. Well, except for a few. I heard this story of this one girl who made her lover die in the water while she laid on this HUGE FUCKING PIECE OF WOOD because she was too selfish to move over and let him on. HA. What a cunt, am I right?"
"You're right!" Molly Brown cackled. "You and my son are about the same size!"
"WHO ARE YOU?!" Brock screamed, clearly impatient with how long this was taking.
Rose rolled her eyes and not-so-coyly whispered to him, "New Money."
We all watched as Molly scurried away.
"So anyway, that's kinda all I got."
"Well," Rose said, nodding her head a bit. "Thank you for that… fine… forensic… KINDA CUNTY WAY of telling me about my life. You've been of great service. Don't you have a meal to get to?"
"You're right-"
"I WAS RIGHT!" Molly ran back in. "MY SON! SIZE! YOU! YALL! US! WE!"
"SECURITY!" Brock screamed.
After security dragged her away and Brock stopped crying from his impatience, he sat down backwards in a chair and grinned an excited grin at Rose and said, "WILL YOU SHARE IT WITH US NOW?!"
My duty here was clrly done, so I scurried off to find Molly and the snack-cart.
*~*~*~*~*~Brock's POV~*~*~*~*~*~
I waited in suspense and anticipation for Old Rose to answer my question. And then I got tired of waiting. "HEY!" I blew my rape whistle. Everyone turned to look at me, and the coast guard sailed up out of nowhere, ready to help. I shooed the coast guard away with my hand and turned back to the group. "I said, Will you share it with us now?"
Old Rose wasn't even looking my my direction. The bitch had wandered off to the monitors of underwater footage.
"Can we focus, please?" I asked, trying to be polite and patient. I snapped my fingers. But no. She was having a moment.
"Ohhhhhhhhh," she gasped, shielding her eyes from the wreckage. Srsly? She sits through Fatty's graphic presentation without batting an eye (srsly, it was almost too much for me. But once I asked him to remove the slideshow of rotting corpses, it wasn't too bad) but she can't handle the damn monitor?
"I'm taking her to rest," Lizzy said, like a boss.
"NO." Old Rose whipped her head around and wagged her finger back and forth in Lizzy's face. "I'm staying." She was the true boss in this relationship.
"Oh, thank gah," I said. "So. Rose. Tell us your tale."
Rose sat down in her chair and scooted around in her chair. "It's been 84 years-"
"That's okay, boo. Don't you worry your pretty little gray old elderly head about it! Just tell us anything you can remember! Anything at all! Whatever is still clanking around in that brain of yours! I'm easy! I'll take anything you got!"
"Bitch?" Old Rose said, raising her eyebrows. "Do you want to hear the story or not? Who invited who onto this boat to tell whose Titanic story? Were you on the Titanic? Is this your time? Is it story hour with Brock? DO NOT INTERRUPT ME."
My erection was so large I didn't even care that she'd just shamed me. "My b," I said.
"You're goddamn right it's your b. Now where were we?"
"You said-"
"That was a test and you failed. DO NOT INTERRUPT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING."
I blushed and giggled and tee-heed. Oh, Rose. She got me good. "Sorry."
"It's been 84 years," she repeated. She paused and glared at me to see if I was going to say anything. I pretended to zip my lips shut and grinned angelically at her. When she was satisfied I wouldn't talk, she continued, "...and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china had never been used. The sheets had never been slept in. The teacups had never been held. The chairs had never been sat on. The drawers had never been opened. The mirrors had never been looked in. The air had never been breathed..."
As she continued, I looked around the room. Lizzy was sighing, and Fatty was rolling his eyes. I wanted to speak up, but I had learned my lesson. Rose would get on with it when she was ready.
"The carpeting had never been stepped on," she carried on. I may have dozed off for a bit there, but I perked up again when she said, "You get the gist. Shit was new. Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams. And it was." She paused for effect. "It really was…"
~*~*~*~*~FLASHBACK TO 84 YEARS AGO~*~*~*~*~*~*
~*~*~*~*Rose's POV*~*~*~*~
Another day in my horrible life.
Minion #27 parked the car and Minion #14 held out a hand for me. I took it like the bitch I am and stepped down onto the pavement. The brim of my incredibly large hat was obscuring my view, so I lifted it to look at what piece of crap I'd be boarding today.
"It doesn't look any bigger than the last piece of crap," I sighed.
"Well, it is," said my fiance, Cal. "It's bigger. And far more luxurious." As I sighed again, Cal turned to my mother. "Your daughter is very difficult to impress, Ruth."
My mother giggled and blushed and tee-hee'd. I rolled my eyes.
"This ship is unsinkable," Cal continued. "God himself could not sink this ship. If I said a prayer to God asking him to sink this ship, he'd have to respond, 'That is not something I am capable of doing, Caledon.' Because it is physically impossible for this ship to sink."
Cal dealt with our piles of luggage, and then we walked up the platform to the ship. I thought to myself about how Titanic was the ship of dreams, but only to everyone else. To me, it was a slave ship, taking me back to America in chains. I cannot stress this enough. It was a literal slave ship and I was a literal slave. I may as well have dark skin and an afro and be singing slave songs about glory glory hallelujah. I may as well be getting whipped by the overseer while picking cotton. I was a literal slave, and no amount of money or jewelry can change that. And slavery was awful. It was just awful.
~*~*~*~*~Jesus Christ's POV~*~*~**~*~*~
A bar.
Southampton.
1912.
Four men sat around a table, smoking ciggies and drinking pints. They were all glaring at each other. There were other people in this bar too, but they don't matter. They're just extras.
Four men.
A Swede.
Another Swede.
A waiter from Olive Garden.
A sexxi blonde man.
The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
They were in the midst of a intense poker game, betting literally everything they own.
"I raise you three dollars and this jar of lingonberry jam," Sven said, in Swedish.
"I raise you this here pocket watch and an additional 43 cents, Sven. Ja. Stockholm. Lutfisk," Olaf responded, also in Swedish.
"FETTUCCINE ALFREDO! TEEHEEHEE! MARINARA! AH-PEET-ZA PIE! TOHOHOHO," Fabby replied, in Italian.
They all turned to the sexxi blonde guy, wondering how he could possibly top all of their bets. "I've got ten bucks in my pocket," he said in perfect English. "I've got nothing to offer you."
"That's a something! HEHEHEHE! VEAL PARMESANA!" Fabby piped up.
"Fine, fine, fine," Jack groaned. "I bet my soul."
~*~*~*~*~*Jack's POV~*~*~*~*~*
This was it. The single most intense moment of my entire Jeff life. I clutched my cards tightly in front of me, taking a deep breath in before looking over at Sven. I swallowed the lump in my throat, parting my lips and narrowing my eyes at him. "Go fish."
Everyone in the bar gasped, even the extras. They knew.
We all watched with intensity as Sven drew his card.
It was somehow my turn again.
I turned to Fabby. "Sorry, Fabby."
"SORRY? YOU'RE A SORRY? YOU DISRESPECT MY MEAT-A-BALLS AND THEN THINK YOU CAN JUST SAY YOU'RE SORRY?" he screamed, outraged. His English then turned to Italian, like it always does when he gets angry. He's my bestie, so I know. "ENDLESS BREADSTICKS AND SALAD COMBO!"
I wish I spoke Italian.
"I'm sorry you're gonna have to say bye to your MOMMA." And then I grinned. "BECAUSE WE'RE GOING TO 'MERICA!" I slapped me cards down on the table with glee. "FOUR ACES, BITCHACHOS!"
"MAMA MIA!" Fabby cried, jumping out of his seat and pulling me into the largest bro hug that we've ever shared.
We both jumped up and down jollily while Sven and Olaf cried their eyes out, muttering things in Swedish to each other, like "Klippan two-seater sofa" and "Hemnes dresser." I think one of them even whispered, "Meatball combo."
"I GO TO AMERAAAAARICA!" Fabby continued to sob like the emotional bitch he is.
~*~*~*~*~*~*Bartender's POV~*~*~*~*~*
These rowdy fucks.
They're disrupting my business and causing a scene.
I have to put an end to this.
"Nah, MATE." And by 'mate', I clearly meant 'bitch.' "TITANIC go to America. IN FIVE FUCKING MINUTES. WHY ARE YOU TWO IDIOTS STILL CELEBRATING? YOU REALIZE YOU JUST WON A FREE TRIP TO THE U S OF FUCKING A AND YOU'RE GOING TO MISS IT BECAUSE YOU CAN'T STOP YOUR NONSENSE? ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?"
What cunts.
~*~*~*~*~*Jack's POV*~*~*~*~*~
"Fettuccine alfredo!" Fabby cursed. "We've got-a to get a move on!"
I swept all the money on the table into my knapsack, which doubles as a sleeping bag on cold nights. I think I accidentally got a coaster or two-even better; maybe I could sell them to the other steerage folks on the Titanic.
Our bags and money and coasters in tow, Fabby and I raced through the busy streets, stepping on toes and crawling under galloping horses and causing general mayhem. While we ran, I yelled pearls of wisdom at Fabby.
"We're rich bitches now!" I shouted behind me.
"Yay!" Fabby said.
"We're no longer street filth!"
"Yay!"
"We're the luckiest sons of bitches in the world, you know that?"
"Yay!"
Sometimes I feel like he doesn't even listen to me.
We approached the ship, and I noticed that they were taking away the platform apparatus connecting the dock to the ship. "Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait!" I shouted as we ran across the platform. "Hold on. We're passengers!" I waved our tickets around obnoxiously.
"Have you been through the inspection queue?" the officer asked.
Without breaking eye contact with the officer, I leaned toward Fabby. "Be cool. I got this," I mumbled. I focused my attention back on the officer. "Of course!" I grinned brightly, showing him my pearly whites. Well. Pearly yellows. I smoke and I don't own a toothbrush; let's be real. But it's all I got.
I saw the officer look over at Fabby. A cockroach creeped out from behind Fabby's ear.
"Anyway," I said, clearing my throat, "we don't have any lice; we're Americans. The both of us. Him and me. That darkie and this whitey."
The officer narrowed his eyes at us, then looked back to Fabby, then to the cockroach.
"Mozzarella," Fabby said helpfully.
I flashed the officer my pearly yellows and silently pleaded with him to let us through. The suspense was killing me.
"Whatever," the officer said, rolling his eyes and stepping past. Gleefully, Fabby and I jumped from the platform to the ship.
"We're so goddamn lucky!" I shouted as Fabby and I ran up to the deck. Idk how I just knew exactly what twists and turns to take to get to the deck even though it was my first time aboard, but I'm just that good. I took a place against the rail and leaned forward, waving good-bye at all the bitches who wish they could be me right now. "Bye!" I shouted. If I squinted I could just make out the pissed-off faces of Sven and Olaf. "Suck it!" I added for good measure.
"You know someBODY?" Fabby asked.
"Of course not, you idiot!" I tousled Fabby's hair. "That's not the point!"
Fabby tilted his head. "Then… what is… point?"
I ignored him and went back to waving. "Good-bye! I'll miss you! JK, I won't!"
Fabby shrugged and fabbed to me. I call it "fabbing" whenever he gives in and does whatever I do. Which is a lot. "Good-bye!" he shouted, waving wildly.
"Bye!" I continued.
"Ricotta! I will never forget you!"
We did this for about an hour until it wasn't fun anymore, because the ship had taken off and there wasn't anyone to wave to anymore. I figured Fabby and I may as well go see what our room was all about, so we went down to the sewers of the ship. To our place in the world. After going down about twelve stories, we got to our floor.
I wandered the halls, peering my head around every corner and muttering, "360… 360…" to myself. I kept touching walls and signs and the backs of people I bumped into as I searched for room 360. Where was it?! I noticed the numbers of rooms I passed getting bigger, going from 357 to 358 to 359 to…oh my gah, there it was! 360! "Right here," I called to Fabby, who was busy making eyes at some blond woman. But I bet she's not important. "Fabby!" I repeated.
He quickly fabbed and followed me into the sludgy cabin. See? He always fabs to me.
"How you doin'?" I greeted the two Swedes in the room. "Jack. Nice to meet you." I held out my hand to one of them. "Jack Dawson, nice to meet you."
He just looked down at my hand.
"What are you, afraid of catching disease? Don't act like I'm filth. You've got just as many diseases as I do. Shake my hand!"
He did as told, and I clapped him on the back for good measure. "I just gave you the clap! Enjoy!" I laughed. I'm hilarious. Then I turned around and saw that Fabby had jumped up to the top bunk.
"Who says you get top bunk, huh?" I teased him. I tickled Fabby and he giggled like the Pillsbury Doughboy. That boy.
"Sven? Ja?" one of them asked the other. But I don't speak Swedish, so whatever. I laid down on my bottom bunk and sighed. I love my life.
*~*~*~*~*~* Rose's POV*~*~*~*~*~*~
So then we were in our room, and I was unpacking literally every piece of art I owned. Whoever decorated these rooms should be shot. I will just decorate them myself. Fuck everybody.
"That's ugly!" Cal said, pointing an accusatory finger at my precious painting.
"Bite your whore tongue," I muttered, clutching the painting tightly to my bosom. "They're amazing! Spectacular! It's like living in a dream, you know? There's truth… but no logic… I want the truth from you, give me the truth, EVEN IF IT HURTS, I DON'T CARE NO MORE, NOOOOOOO," I said casually, smiling fondly at my paintings as I placed them around the room.
"Who painted that filth?" Cal asked.
"Piccasso, or some bumbumbum like him."
Cal laughed like the condescending man he was. "He'll never amount to a thing! Trust me!"
"I do not trust you," I said.
He shrugged. "At least they were cheap."
I couldn't argue that. "I can't argue that," I sighed.
"Boom. One for Cal!" He grinned, happy as a peach. I sighed again, reaching into my back pocket and taking out the tiny notebook that kept track of our wins. I had one of the servants go fetch me a pen before I put another mark down by his name. He was catching up to me. Then I closed the notebook and slipped it back into the pocket of my dress.
~*~*~*~*Cal's POV~*~*~*~*~
I had won the game.
~*~*~*~*Rose's POV~*~*~*~*
So then it was later and Momma and I were heading off to another slave dinner, when suddenly there was all this commotion. Some adorably chubby lady was carrying her own bags. I was jls that she, unlike I, was not a slave to society and was able to fend for herself.
Slaves.
"WHERE ARE ALL MY BITCHES AT?!" she said, giggling happily, suitcases overflowing from her arms like the ocean below us. One of her bitches came running up behind her, eagerly grabbing the bags from her arms. "Well I wasn't about to wait all day for you, Sonny! Here, you think you can manage?!" she asked, whipping out another suitcase from her brassiere and handing it to him.
She was so jolly.
I think her name was Molly.
"No," Momma said, reading my thoughts like the mind reader she was. "New Money."
I nodded. "Ah, I C."
~*~*~*~Cappys' POV~*~*~*~
Man that nap was refreshing!
I hadn't wanted to nap originally, but Mr. A had insisted that I be a good boy and take my nap now, so that I wouldn't get tired and cranky later on during dinner. And, like always, he knew what was best for me because now I felt SO REFRESHED.
With a bright smile on my face, I trotted out onto the decks with a little swagger in my step. I knew exactly what had to be done and how I had to say it (Mr. Andrews and I had just finished rehearsing) and I was ready.
I slid on my sock-covered feet to a stop next to Mr. Murdoch, smiling over at him brightly.
"Take her to sea, Mr. Murdoch," I said, casual as ever, smiling brightly out towards the ocean. "Let's stretch her legs."
Mr. Murdoch looked over at me and grinned slyly before quickly nodding and saying, "Yes, sir!"
SIR.
I was acing this captain job.
~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ's POV~*~*~*~*
Murdoch turned and headed towards the bridge, doing this weird waddle walk thing that was really working for him. Most people would have probably looked stupid, but he was slaying it.
"All ahead full, Mr. Moody!" Murdoch ordered one of the minions, who was quick to to scurry towards the other telegraph machine… thing… that delivered messages to the engine room. "Now we're going to do this on my count, got it? My count," he said, glaring at Mr. Moody and daring him to go against his wishes.
Mr. Moody was quick to nod along again; he wouldn't be the one to question Mr. Murdoch's authority.
"1, 2, 3, now!" Murdoch declared, but Mr. Moody was a little slow on the draw and their messages didn't go through at the exact same time. "Are you fucking serious?" Murdoch exclaimed, turning back towards Moody. "I fucking counted. Jesus. I swear, if everyone just listened to me we wouldn't have any problems on this ship!"
"Sorry, sir!"
"Everyone should just do it the Murdoch way," he groaned, speaking more to himself. "The Murr way." Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the ship driver, Billy, was texting while driving. What the fuck was wrong with him? Like a true murr, Murdoch rolled his eyes and shoved Billy out of the way to take over the driving portion.
Billy was about to protest, but then he realized he could never go up against a murr. Sighing quietly to himself, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and decided it was break time.
Meanwhile, down below in the engine room, there was a man named British Emeril. It was midday, so he didn't have any cooking to do right now, so instead he was milling about and making sure everything was prepped for dinner tonight. Suddenly, the telegraph… thing… made a dinging sound and he looked over at it.
"All ahead full," he said, reading off what the telegraph was now pointing to. Or something. Then he went back to chopping the garlic, while his sous chef acknowledged the telegraph by… twisting it around…? I'm not too sure of the deets. Either way, British Emeril could not be bothered to do that because he still had a lot of garlic to peel and chop.
He observed all the minions rushing around to their posts as he peeled another head of garlic. All around the room people were repeating what he had called out. "All ahead full! ALL AHEAD FULLLL!" they would echo each other, making sure British Emeril's commands had made it all around the engine room.
Up on one of the catwalks, there was a guy named Keith. He just remembered that he left his curling iron on, so he took off in a run towards his room. He was not going to be the reason the Titanic caught on fire, or something. So then the engines started moving faster and people were scurrying around trying to get to their stations and all was good with the world.
Soon, they would be going all ahead full.
British Emeril decided to put down his garlic for a moment to help out in the all ahead full process, and did so by turning one of the valves.
Meanwhile, down in the engine room full of dirty, sweaty, burly Australian minions, the main burly minion somehow got the message that they were supposed to be going all ahead full. So, being the leader of the pack, he cheered his men on. "All right! Let's stoke her right up! That's right, put some more coal in there ya fookin' cunt! That's right! G'day! We'll go full ahead! Good work, mate! That's a lad! Come on, now! Put 'yer backs into it! Don't make me go slap your mum!"
This inspired his team greatly.
They worked harder to shovel more coal into the burners.
Slowly, the steam started building and the coal did something and this, in turn, made the engines go faster? I think. Yes. That sounds about right. So then, right before everyone's eyes, the ship was going all ahead full. Fully all. Ahead was full of all.
~*~*~*~*Jack's POV~*~*~*~*
So after Fabby and I spent hours exploring the ship and salvaging for goods (we had added a dog leash, two buttons and a right shoe to our collections of things we owned). I remembered feminism and decided we had to go to the bow of the ship and have a moment. I had never been on a boat before, because I am po, but I was able to navigate everything like a pro.
"Where are we-a going?!" Fabby chortled, running along side me as we headed towards the bow.
"I have a treat for you!"
"Teeheeheehee linguine!" he giggled.
So then we made it to the front of the ship and it turns out we were THE ONLY ONES OUT THERE. Which was really amazing when you think about it, considering there are THOUSANDS of people on this ship! Maybe everyone knew that we were about to have a moment. A bestie moment. Bes mome. And they respectfully gave us our privacy. Either way, we were the only two folks out there.
"OMG! DOLPHINS!" I exclaimed, grabbing the back of Fabby's head and forcing him to look down at the ocean.
"Pesto?"
"No, dolphins! Look!"
"Michelangelo?"
"STOP SPEAKING ITALIAN AND LOOK, YOU FUCK!" I said, gripping the back of his neck tighter as I shoved him down further. "Do you see them? DO YOU SEE THEM? Look! One over there! And one over there! Look, there's another one right there! ARE YOU FUCKING LOOKING?!" I asked, my erection for sea creatures blinding me.
We both went into a fit of chortles.
Dolphins were so fun.
I let go of Fabby's neck.
"I can, uh, um, eh…." he struggled in English, pointing out at the ocean and then back at me.
"Bitch what? Spit it out!"
"I can see the-a statue of liberty-a already! Teehehehehehe very small, of course! Gelato!"
"What? No you can't," I said, squinting at where he was pointing. I was confused. "I'm confused, how do you see the statue of liberty already? I'm pretty sure we're still in England? Or Ireland? Or Scotland? Or Wales? I'm not quite sure where Southampton is but I know the four countries that make up the UK even though I didn't go to school because I'm poor? Either way, I don't think you could possibly see the statue of liberty from here. I've heard it's hard to see the statue of liberty from New York City! You have to find the right place to be able to see it! It's not just THERE, you know? There's buildings and life in the way, Fabby. Yet we're out here, in the middle of the ocean, somewhere in the general vicinity of the united kingdom and you, Fabby Italy, think you can actually see this? Do you know what the statue of liberty even is? Did you get your words mixed up again? The statue of liberty is that giant green statue in the middle of the Hudson River. Were you trying to say the word ocean? You see the ocean from here? WERE YOU TRYING TO SAY DOLPHIN? DOLLLPHIN? DOLLLLLPHINNN. Say it with me!" I squinted further, desparate to see what Fabby sees. Damn my poor vision.
Fabby blinked at me. "Don't patronize me, Jack."
"Sorry, love."
"Tehehehehehe lasagna!" He shrugged happily.
Then an idea boinged into my head. I positioned Fabby in front of me and then climbed up onto the railing behind him, making sure I had one foot on each side and that my crotch was located near his backside. Then I started to gasm.
"WOOOOOOOO! WOOO WOO WOOOOO! I'M THE KING OF THE WORRRRRLLLDDDD! WOOOOP! OW OW OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW." I howled.
"Garbanzo beans!" Fabby gasmed as well.
Then I inserted myself into him.
End Note:
Points to anyone who gets any song references above!
Let us know what you think-we love reviews! You can also reach out to us on twitter and say hi there! Fabby_1D
Also, to anybody who may be confused by some of our lingo, to "gasm" just means to be really excited about something. Like "orgasm," but not. But kind of. We've tried to go back and take most of our language out (Because we honestly have a language all of our own; seriously, guys, you don't understand how many words we had to change before we could even think of posting it here.) but if you come across any sentences/words that don't make sense to you, PLEASE feel free to ask us! Point them out! We'll happily explain our thought process! But hopefully we've already done that for you =)
See you soon!
