Danger! Drunk Officers! 2
Whenever you are invited to a dinner to join the high society, several things are expected of you. Always be polite and courteous, follow etiquette, and never cause offense. Sadly, for the guests at one certain table, the officers achieved quite the opposite.
Captain Smith had generously agreed to watch the bridge to allow every officer the night off and dine with Mr Andrews at his table. Joining them were Mr Ismay, Molly Brown, Rose and Ruth DeWitt Bukater, and Cal Hockley. Boy, were they in for a surprise.
Second Officer Charles Lightoller swaggered in, drinking from yet another champagne glass. Lightoller was a man who was never aware of his limits with alcohol, much to his colleagues dismay. He took one final swig of the glass, and stared into it's empty bottom, disappointed.
His disappointment was short-lived as he swiped a full bottle from a waiter, who looked at him in disbelief. "Go on, I dare you to try take it off me!" Lightoller slurred, creeping his way to Mr Andrews table and plonked himself down on a chair with such gusto that champagne flew out of the bottle onto his face.
"Dear God ..." whispered Ruth as she watched in absolute horror as Lightoller attempted to lick the champagne off his face. Turning to Cal, she added, "This is supposed to be a senior officer?"
Third Officer Herbert Pitman and Fifth Officer Harold Lowe were next to sit down, albeit at the opposite side of the table from Lightoller, who was now scratching his face with a salad fork. When offered champagne the two officers ordered simultaneously, "Leave the bottle."
"Well, I hope you're other colleagues are in a more presentable state," Ismay said with indignation, looking like he was going to vomit onto his plate.
Lowe sniggered, "No luck there, Sir. Why, the only reason Herbert and I are currently sober is because that buffoon cleaning his ears took our allocation of alcohol.
Flabbergasted, Ismay shouted, "Mr Lightoller! Will you please show some dignity and respect!"
Lightoller's reply? A rather loud and long burp, before getting to his feet and swaying his arms to the tune of the orchestra. Deciding that it wasn't enough, Lightoller began slurring his own lyrics.
"And then! We shall ... driiiiiink once moooooore! Aiiiiii-yeeeeeeaaaaahhh!"
"Lights! What the hell are you doing?" First Officer William Murdoch asked. "Come on, get down."
Fourth Officer Jospeh Boxhall and Sixth Officer James Moody appeared at either side of Lightoller as if from nowhere and forced him into his seat. The brave souls decided to sit on either side of them, but being rather drunk themselves, it wasn't long before the three of them were united in song. Their particular choice? The British national anthem.
Sitting down between Cal and Lowe, Murdoch finished his champagne in one go and demanded another. "I'm going to need it!"
Chief Officer Henry Wilde came staggering in to the dining room, clutching two empty bottles of champagne. Waving the bottles about for minute, he handed them to a portly gentleman who stared in shock as Wilde tripped over his own feet and fell into the man's wife. As he went down to the ground, Wilde's hands flailed about, grabbing the woman's bosom, who shrieked and slapped him hard enough across the face for him to let go and collaspe to the floor.
Mr Andrews, aware that everyone was either staring at Wilde who was still on the floor laughing giddily, or at his table, where Lightoller and Moody were drinking full bottles of champange, stood up an announced, "I apologise on behalf of the Captain and these, what were once, fine Officers. Surely, with all their hard work and effort, they can have one night off? And Mr and Mrs Callandish, I sincerely apologise for Mr Wilde's, um, hands ..."
"YES!" roared Moody, jumping up from his chair and raising an unsteady glass to Wilde, who, with the help of four waiters, got to his feet. "Get in there Henry!"
"Ahhhh young James, so much to learn," Wilde muttered to the waiters as he shuffled to the table as though he had crapped his pants.
"I like breasts," Lightoller whispered to Boxhall, before gesturing toward's Molly. "Those are TOO big though. Don't tell her!"
Boxhall burst out laughing, pointing at Molly, who looked at him quizzically. Noticing her stares, he withdrew his hand and started clapping merrily. "Boobies ..." he said to himself, with was met with an uproar of laughter from all the officers, who had been drinking steadily since their arrival.
Caviar was on it's way around the table, with the officers declining it, apart from Murdoch, who lowered his face to the level of the table and stared intently at it. Lowe smashed his hand down on the small pile, causing caviar to fly everywhere, including Murdoch's eyes.
"My eyes! Oh God, my eyes! Harold you bastard!" Murdoch squealed as Pitman, meaning well, threw glasses of water at Murdoch's face in an attempt to flush the caviar from his colleague's eyes.
This time, Molly and Rose led the laughter, despite the disapproving looks from Ruth and Cal. Even Mr Andrews had a small chuckle at Murdoch's predicament.
Murdoch wiped his eyes and glared at Pitman, who ducked underneath the table and laughed so much tears were forming. He used the bottom of Ruth's dress to wipe away the tears without her noticing, and he resurfaced.
"Are we quite done here?" Cal asked pointedly, gesturing towards Wilde and Moody who were dancing away to an imaginary song in their heads. What was surprising was the similarity in their dance moves.
Still dancing, Moody answered, "Nah, still got the rest of the song to go!"
Getting up from the table and taking Rose's arm, Cal pompously announced, "Well, we are off. I cannot dine with chimpanzees, it is simply not acceptable. My apologies Mr Andrews."
With that, he led Rose away from the table, with Ruth following behind, and noticing the tear stains at the bottomof her dress.
"Ah, fuck the lot of you!" Lowe hollered to them, as the whole dining room went quiet and stared at him. Raising his empty glass to his eye like a telescope, Lowe glared at the room. "What are you staring at? I'm a ship's bloody officer! I win!"
Murdoch snatched the glass, and threw it over to the next table, where it landed on the lamb belonging to Madeleine Astor. "That, my friend, is for the caviar. No more champagne for you!"
Fake-crying, Lowe ran from the dining room, weaving in between waiters and tables, which was remarkable due to the alchohol consumed. It wasn't destined to last though, as he plunged face-first into the staircase. His scream of "Mummy!" could be heard in the silent dining room.
"I'll get him," Molly insisted, avoiding Lightoller's hat which he had thrown across the room. His jacket was next, along with his shirt, but not his tie, which he tried to use to cover his exposed nipples to no avail.
"Oh, now really, that is enough!" Ismay roared, throwing down his fork. "I am away to see the Captain about all this! You will be lucky if you have your jobs after this!"
"That's utter shite!" Murdoch argued, finishing yet another bottle. He got unsteadily to his feet, determined to chase after Ismay, when he vomited countless litres of champange onto the centrepiece before passing out backwards onto the now-empty table that was behind him.
"Woooooooooooooo!" Lightoller yelled, standing on his chair and swinging his tie around like a lasso. He was unaware that Moody had pulled his trousers and underwear down, an action which had, in effect, cleared the room besides the other officers, the waiters, the orchestra, and of course Mr Andrews, who was curious as to how the night would play out.
Pitman and Boxhall took it upon themselves to gather empty plates and toss them to each other like frisbees, narrowly avoiding the orchestra in the process. Wilde was now trying to stuff Murdoch's uniform with as much food as the could find. Moody and Mr Andrews watched as Lightoller tried to step off of the chair, unaware his clothes were at his ankles, and unfortunately clattered into a couple of chairs next to him, face on the floor and backside in the air.
"There are only so many times I can see his bum before I decided to go overboard!" Moody insisted, shielding his eyes and cowering into Mr Andrews, who was looking amused.
"I'm stuck!" Lightoller yelled into the floor, reaching around for help, which came in the form of Molly, who had returned with Lowe who was clutching a bouquet of flowers, probably stolen from another table.
"Not again!" Lowe moaned, looking away as Molly helped Lightoller up. "Charles, I am so sick of seeing your skinny arse!"
"I tried telling him that but he just won't listen!" Moody insisted, pulling his hat over his eyes.
"You pulled his clothes down though Mr Moody," Mr Andrews said with great amusement. "That one was your fault."
"I know!" Moody wailed into his hat. Deep down Moody wished he had a backside like Lightoller's, and was constantly exercising in his spare time to achieve his goal.
Buttoning his trousers, Lightoller sniggered, "Moody secretly likes it, Mr Andrews. I know, I've seen the looks and, oh Henry! That looks fun!"
Throwing chairs out of his way, Lightoller grabbed a rack of lamb and tried to stuff it down Murdoch's crotch just as he was waking up from his alcohol-induced nap.
"Shit!" Wilde shouted, pulling at Lightoller's topless torso. "Run! Run, I say!"
They did, right into a locked door. They tried to force it open but were stopped in their tracks when the Captain appeared, with Ismay at his side.
"WHAT THE HELL HAS BEEN GOING ON IN HERE?!" the Captain bellowed, looking around. Even the orchestra had packed up and left by this time, after the violinist was smacked in the face with a potato. It was an accident, mind.
The room fell silent for several minutes, until -
"Have I shat myself?" Murdoch asked, feeling his backside in a panic. He pulled down his trousers only to see random vegetables and cuts of meat either falling to the ground or sticking to his skin. "Oh thank God, it's only food!"
"Captain!" Lightoller shouted, skipping over to him, flapping his arms as though he was a graceful butterly. "I seen boobs! And ... cake! Wait, no ..."
"Enough, Mr Lightoller! Put your clothes on! Mr Murdoch, take off that food and pull your trousers up. Every single one of you will march right upstairs and sleep off the alcohol! Don't think that there won't be consequences! Now MOVE!" the Captain ordered.
He watched as Lightoller danced his way out the room, with Murdoch staggering behind, picking off a steak that was stuck to his knee and taking a bite out of it. Boxhall and Pitman linked arms and skipped past the captain, singing happily at the top of their lungs. Wilde tiptoed past, carrying a bowl full of fruit which was snatched back by Ismay. Moody and Lowe were last to leave, deciding to march like military personnel, saluting the Captain as they marched by, and sticking their middle finger up at Ismay.
"Mr Andrews, just what happened down here?" Ismay asked Andrews, who smirked, and waved him off.
"Oh, if only you knew ..."