Best Damn Titanic

by PigNAPoke22

You know that scene toward the end of Titanic when Jack and Rose definitely would have both fit on that wooden thing but instead he lets Rose hog the whole thing and he just floats in the freezing sea and dies? What the hell? And why isn't Jack more amazed by all the food when he eats in the fancy first-class dining room? We think the story should have gone a little more like this:

6. Part Six

~*~*~*~Jesus Christ's POV~*~*~*~

Two minions bobbed along with a big burly Australian as he showed them the way.

"They ran down there. Crikey."

"Right. Thanks, mate!"

"No problem, mate!"

This is leading somewhere, I promise. But right now we're going to switch to:

~*~*~*~*Cal's POV~*~*~**~

"So, you're telling me," I said, in the middle of a conversation with Spicey as we walked back towards 52/54/56, "that you weren't able to find Cher and you also somehow LOST ROSE when you were chasing them?"

"I know. I'm sorry."

I sighed. "You're lucky I love you, kid," I said, giving him a noogie.

So then we were in the suite(s) and I immediately went over to check the safe. I knew Jack was a thief; if he had spent time in my suite(s) then something obviously must have gone missing by now. "Do you think it's a bit darker in here?" I asked, as I twisted the combination into the safe.

"Seems a bit dusky, yeah," Lovejoy agreed.

"Like someone stole the light bulbs," I chuckled. Nobody would do that. "Also, why is this safe on a handtruck?" I laughed again, shrugging and finally opening the safe. I stopped abruptly, staring at the loose piece of paper that was dangling out of the safe.

"Anything missing, pal?" Spicey asked.

I picked up the paper but did not read the note just yet, I decided to save that for after I looked inside this dingy filth covered folder. Clearly this must belong to Jack. My Rose would never own something so… poverty ridden. I picked up the poverty folder, the pov fold, and peeked inside.

My eyes widened and my erection boinged, even though I had clearly been betrayed. My erection didn't care about the betrayal part. There in this folder was my Rosie, naked. It had been sketched by the poor man and, what is that? HE DIDN'T EVEN DRAW HER OTHER BOOB? How could Rose think he was a fine artist? HE LEFT OUT ONE OF ROSE'S AMAZING BREASTS.

"Despicable," I huffed, adjusting myself in my pants. Lovejoy whistled from behind me and I quickly shielded Rose's picture away from him. "Don't look at her," I said, glaring.

He held up his hands, mumbling, "My B, my B."

"She's still my wife, you know." I glared at him some more. "In practice if not yet by law."

Spicey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you've been over this a few times."

He was testing my patience lately. Maybe we needed to have an H2H.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to say it again," I replied sassily.

Then I remembered the note I had saved and read the words scrawled out in Rose's handwriting.

My Dearest Caledon,

CHECK OUT MY RACK! I'M A DISH, RIGHT?

I WAS RIGHT!

Ugh, sorry, that was Molly. Of course. Anyway, sorry that I'm kind of cheating on you now. Don't take it personally, okay? You're still my best girl, Cal. I hope we can still be friends. I really love our platonic relationship. I'm gonna hopefully (finally) go have sex with Jack, so please don't come looking for us. We'll be busy, if you know what I mean. AND I THINK YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Anyway.

All the love,

Rose DeWitt Bukater.

I glared at the note now. How dare she. In a fit of rage, I crumpled up the stupid drawing of half her naked body and was about to rip it up when suddenly a thought boinged into my head. "I have a better idea," I said, and then laughed my evilest laughter. "BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ's POV~*~*~*~*~*

So back to those two minions.

They followed the burly Aussie's directions and it took them into this giant room full of luggage and whatnot and what have you. Using hand signals (which they had learned during their Navy Seal training) they covertly circled the room. Minion number one, let's call him Joe, noticed that the windows of the car parked in the middle of the room were fogged up.

His eyes lit up with glee.

He had won the game.

Then he had to signal the other minion. Let's call him Bob.

Joe snapped twice, stomped his left foot once and made a pigeon noise, the same thing the seals had taught him for this exact situation. Bob, also formally trained by the seals, knew exactly what that meant and nodded to convey such.

They both approached the car door, all excited like because they (Joe, more than Bob) had won the game. "GOTCHA, YOU FILTHY MOTHERFUCKERS!" Joe screamed as he flung open the car door.

Empty.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Bob groaned. "I thought we had won the game."

Joe sighed. "Me too, pal. Me too."

~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose's POV~*~*~*~*~*

"DID YOU," Jack was hyperventilating, "SEE THEIR FACES?! OH MY GOD, THEIR FACES? THOSE NAVY SEAL MINIONS' FACES?! OH MY GOD IT WAS SO FUNNY," he cackled loudly as we stumbled through the door out onto the deck. He bent over, bracing his palms on his thighs to try and catch his breath. "I've never"-gasp-"seen something"-gasp-"so funny"-gasp-"in all my days! THOSE FACES. OH MY GOD."

"Lol yeah, I know, right," I chuckled along, whipping out a brown paper bag for him to breathe into.

"YOU MUST NOT HAVE SEEN THEIR FACES!" Jack yelled, though it was muffled by the paperbag he was breathing into it. He tore the bag away from his face to continue cackling loudly, then he snorted twice. "THEIR FACES WERE SO PERFECT OMG."

"Let's twirl!" I offered, trying to take advantage of Jack's good mood. Maybe if we twirled long enough, he'd recover from his orgasm and be able to go again. Twirling always helped me in these situations. So then we grabbed hands and did about one and a half twirls before he started cackling again and we had to stop. I rolled my eyes.

"I just can't get over their faces! Oh my god they were SOOOOOOOOOOOOO funny! They were like this," he said, imitating one of their faces, "and the other guy was like this!" he said, making a different face. "THEIR FACES. GAH. This is the best night of my life," he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Are you done now?" I asked.

"NOT REALLY!" he cackled. "THEIR FACES WERE JUST SO-" I cut him off by pressing my perfectly sanitary fingertips to his lips. He slowly stopped laughing and we had a little eye secks. I would prefer if we were having actual secks still, but I knew he still wasn't ready.

"If the ship docks-when the ship docks…" I paused dramatically, making sure I had his full attention. I did. So I continued, "I'm getting off with you." He better realize how fucking literal I'm being right now. "As in, you and I will be having The Sex a lot of times in New York, got it? I was being cute, but I'm being serious. I have needs, Jack. I'm kiiiiind of a nympho," I said to clarify.

"This is crazy!" Jack exclaimed. "This is just like that time we saw those guys' faces! Do you remember that? That was my favorite part of this whole trip!"

"I know, I know, whatever," I said, sick of hearing about those stupid fucking faces. "It doesn't make any sense! 'It' being our relationship, of course. I mean, I'm rich. You're poor. I'm pretty. You're greasy. I have class and you don't. Literally. Like, I'm first class and you're down in the slums. But, because of all that…" I chuckled, running my hand through his greasy hair. Ohhhhhhhhhh my hand will never be the same. "That's why I trust it."

The flutes and violins that were playing in the background quietly gasmed as we leaned in and kissed each other deeply. Already having sacrificed my hand to the grease, I continued to run it through his hair and pull him in further. "Their faces," he chuckled into the kiss, "I can't get over their faces."

~*~*~*~Jesus Christ's POV~*~*~*~

Officer Murdoch watched from above as Jack and Rose frolicked on the decks. He chuckled quietly to himself. "Kids these days." Murdoch shook his head, grinning ear to ear, and then went back to his business.

Meanwhile, the two officers that stood all along the watchtower were also peeking over the edges and watching as Jack and Rose frolicked. Seriously, it was the middle of the night and this was the only thing to stare at; this wasn't weird in any way, okay? Just because they were touching each other as they watched doesn't make it perverted.

"Oh yes, here, look at that!" Officer #1, let's call him Tom, said to #2, who we will refer to as Jerry, as he gently placed his hand on Jerry's crotch.

"Look at that, wouldja?!" Jerry laughed, forcing Tom's palm down harder against his crotch. No homo. This was strictly to keep warm! It was like negative five degrees with the windchill up in this watchtower business and they forgot their coats back at the bridge. Just because he was getting tingly does not mean this was gay in anyway, shape, form, mind, body or skin color. "They're a bit warmer than we are!"

"Well if that's what it takes for us to get warm, I'd rather not if it's all the same to you!" Tom said, chuckling because this was all a joke and not gay at all. Then he pulled his hand away from Jerry's crotch. "No homo, bro."

"Right, right, no homo," Jerry mumbled, already sad about his blue balls. Maybe he was a little homo. He was just about to have an H2H with Tom, asking if they could have a bro-job between friends, when suddenly he saw something peeking out from the water up ahead. "Bugger me!" Jerry exclaimed. "Fuck fuck shit shit, RING THE EMERGENCY BELL, TOM!"

Tom eagerly rang the emergency bell.

All around the ship, everyone's ears perked up like dogs. Uh oh.

~*~*~*~Mr. Andrews' POV~*~*~*~*

My ears perked up like a dog's.

The emergency bell!

This was not going to end well. The ship could stay afloat with the first four bulkheads breached but not five.

Not five.

And if you measured the velocity the Titanic was moving at, versus the dimensions of the iceberg that I knew was lying up ahead, it all equaled one thing.

We were going to sink.

~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ's POV~*~*~*

Jerry picked up the emergency phone and dialled 911, which rang directly to the bridge. "PICK UP, YOU BASTARDS! We're having a fucking emergency! That's why I dialed 911! Pick up the fucking phone!" he yelled into the receiver, on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Tom was busying himself by having Rose try and toss her paper bag up to him, so that he could have Jerry breathe into it. Unfortunately, throwing a paper bag up into a watchtower was much easier said than done and it took a few times to get it right.

Meanwhile, Minion #47 casually made his way towards the ringing emergency phone, careful not to spill his tea anywhere. This must be another drill, he thought. Without a care in the world, he picked up the phone and cleared his throat four times and took a sip of his tea before finally saying, "Hello? Minion #47 speaking?"

"IS THERE ANYONE THERE?! OH MY FUCKING GOD WHY IS NOBODY ANSWERING?!" was the first thing he heard. Gah, people are so dramatic! he thought, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his tea.

"Yeah, whatever, I'm here. What's up? What's the happening? What's the de-de-de-dillio, dillio? What's the de-de-de-deal, deal?"

"ICEBERG! IT'S A FUCKING ICEBERG! A HUGE FROZEN PIECE OF WATER THAT COULD POTENTIALLY KILL US ALL, YOU FUCK!"

"Oh," Minion #47 said, blinking a few times. He sighed, gently setting his teacup down before responding. "Alright, I'll uh… yeah, I'll deal with it. Thanks for the info. Oh, by the way, how's your mum? I heard she's poorly."

"Aw, thanks for asking," Jerry responded. "She's doing much better, actually. She gave us quite a scare there for a while, but she's in a rehab facility now and she should be back to her old self soon!"

"That's wonderful, Jerry! Really, fantastic. I'll let my nan know, she wanted me to ask."

"Brilliant!"

"Wait, what I was supposed to be doing again?"

"THERE'S A FUCKING ICEBERG, YOU PRICK!" Jerry screamed.

"OH!" Minion #47 exclaimed. "RIGHT! Gah, maybe we should have saved the small talk for later, amiright?" he chuckled. Suddenly, Molly Brown came riding in on a segway at full speed. She was cackling like a maniac, and as she passed by Minion #47 she roundhouse kicked the tea cup out of his hand.

She dismounted the segway and then with her hands on her chubby hips, she screamed, "I WAS RIGHT!111111111111111"

Jerry groaned into the reciever. "TELL MOLLY BROWN TO PISS OFF, WOULDJA? NOW IS NOT THE TIME!"

Minion #47 hesitated ever so much before nodding and pressing the phone to his chest to muffle his words, "Hi, Molly. Always a pleasure. Um, Jerry asked me to ask you to, um… come back at a later time to discuss. Would that be alright?"

"Yeah, sonny!" Molly cackled, slapping Minion #47 on the back. "No problem! I want to test out the top speed on this baby anyway!" She grinned, gesturing over towards her segway. "She's a real beaut, ain't she?"

Minion #47 nodded. "Gorgeous. What is she, a 1911?"

"1911?!" Molly exclaimed. "Sonny, I'm RICH! She's brand new! Top of the line! Big Irish hands made this transportation device! A 1911," she chuckled. "As if. This baby is all 1912."

Minion #47 could hear Jerry screaming something into the phone. He held up his finger towards Molly, signaling her to give him a minute (to which she politely nodded in response), before pulling the phone back up to his ear. "Jerry? You still there? What's up?"

"APPARENTLY YOU'RE NOT FUCKING GETTING IT, MATE. THE ICEBERG IS LITERALLY A THOUSAND TIMES CLOSER THAN IT WAS BEFORE! FUCKING DO SOMETHING OR WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE-"

"But… God himself could not sink this ship…" he said over Jerry's screams.

"-TELL SOMEONE! CALL THE COAST GUARD! WAKE CAPPY-"

"Cappy?" Minion #47 laughed. "What is he gonna do?"

"JUST DO SOMETHING!" Jerry exclaimed. "BLEEDING CHRIST!"

"Okay, okay, okay, I'm going!" Minion #47 rolled his eyes. "No need to get your knickers in a bunch." Then he hung up the phone. "Hmm…" he said to the minion at the wheel, tapping his nails on his saucer. "What do I do now? I remember Mr. Andrews going over this protocol, but he was wearing a wonderful hat that day and all I could think about was where I could get one like that. And he left before I could ask him! Isn't that silly of me?"

The minion at the wheel, who we shall call Billy, could do nothing but shake in his boots. It was his first time at the wheel. Mr. Andrews hadn't prepared him for this kind of responsibility. Cappy had trained him on it, and… it hadn't been helpful.

~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK TO TWO WEEKS AGO*~*~*~*~*~*~

"And this is the wheel," Cappy sighed, gesturing toward the ship's wheel. "You know what a wheel does?"

Billy frowned. "Navigate direction?"

Cappy giggled at the silly long words Billy was using. "No, silly! T.W.S.A.S.!"

"What does that mean?"

"The Wiggles Starts At Seven!"

"What?"

Cappy checked his watch. "I'm tired of training. Mr. A will fill you in on the rest, probably. Do you want to come play Mario Party with me?"

~*~*~*~*~*FLASH FORWARD TWO WEEKS*~*~*~*~*~*~

Billy sighed. He probably shouldn't have accepted Cappy's invitation. Mr. A did not fill him in on the rest. He did provide snacks while Billy and Cappy played what turned out to be a three-hour long session of Mario Party, but that was beside the point.

Meanwhile, Officer Murdoch decided enough tomfoolery was enough. He sprinted from his spot on the deck and ran to the bridge. Minion #47 opened the door but continued to stand in the doorway, blocking Murdoch from entering.

"Iceberg, right ahead!" Minion #47 shouted worthlessly.

"I fucking know," Murdoch snapped. "Why do you think I ran here?"

"Whoa, be careful not to spill my tea, there! And I don't know, really. Sometimes I don't think before I speak. How's your mum?"

"HARD A' STARBOARD!" Murdoch shouted to Billy.

"HARD A' STARBOARD!" Minion #47 shouted.

Billy began turning the wheel frantically, hoping the direction he chose was "starboard." Though to him it sounded like a board on Mario Party.

"Why did you repeat what I just said? Don't you have a job to do right now? Don't you have to signal the thing to the engine room?" Murdoch asked.

"Murdoch, I have a process. Before I can do anything, I need to have my cuppa tea, sit down, and have a nice cha-"

Murdoch rolled his eyes and whipped himself around to face the other direction, making sure to jostle Minion #47 on the way by grabbing his elbow and moving his tea-holding arm up and down and right and left and side to side and diagonal.

"My tea!" Minion #47 murmured forlornly as his tea sloshed all over his arm/coat/shoes/life.

Murdoch ran to the engine room telegraph to signal Full Speed Astern. Aka DO MINION #47's JOB. Not that Murdoch was bitter. Not at all.

Meanwhile, down in the engine room, British Emeril had just made some soup.

"It's really quite simple," British Emeril was saying to his friend and colleague, Rupert. "You see, first you chop the onion and saute it in some butter."

"How much butter?" Rupert asked, taking notes.

"Oh, a tablespoon or two. You don't need a lot. And then you add some shallots, some leeks, some garlic… you really just want to develop flavor at this point. Once everything's soft and translucent, just add the stock and simmer it on this steam manifold for fifteen minutes or so. Toast some bread with a little cheese, dip it in there, and you'll have yourself a great, basic onion soup that you can whip up at a moment's notice while you're working in the engine room!"

"Marvelous! You should have a show on the Food Network!"

British Emeril paused. "Do you really think so?"

"I'd watch it every day."

British Emeril smiled. Rupert was always encouraging his culinary conquests. "Would you like some, old chap?"

"I'd love some!" Rupert held out the bowl he'd brought in his pocket for just this occasion.

When British Emeril began ladeling in the soup, he heard a sudden noise. The engine room telegraph! It moved! To Full Speed Astern! He looked down at his potentially prize-winning onion soup. He had a job to do.

"Hold up!" he shouted, throwing the soup across the room and breaking the ladle in half and smashing Rupert's only bowl on the ground below. "FULL ASTERN! Go, minions! Go!" The minions rushed to follow their orders.

While they bustled, British Emeril looked sadly at the remains of his soup on the ground. Who was he kidding? He wasn't a chef. He could never be a chef. This would always be his life.

Meanwhile, Billy, who had been turning the wheel for several minutes at this point, finally reached the point where the wheel could turn no more. "Hard over!" he called to Murdoch, hoping to god that that meant something. It was the one thing he'd learned from Mr. Andrews, and it wasn't even a lesson meant for him.

~*~*~*~*~*FLASHBACK TO TWO WEEKS AGO*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I hate Handcar Havoc!" Cappy shouted when it was revealed that he lost. "I was turning as hard as I could to make the curve, but I fell off anyway." He looked over at Billy, who looked down, ashamed. Billy was his teammate and he had let him down.

"Do you know what it's called when you're turning as hard as you can, EJ?" Mr. Andrews asked.

Cappy paused for a moment, trying to remember his flashcards. He appeared to be on the verge of an answer, but all at once he sighed and leaned back on the couch. "No."

"Hard over. Think of it like this: You've turned until you don't have to turn anymore. The hard part is over."

Cappy smiled. "I like that."

~*~*~*~*~*FLASH FORWARD TWO WEEKS*~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, the head burly minion, Fred, noticed the red light turn on. "Shut all the dampers!" he shouted to his sexy crew. "Shut them!"

The sexy crew worked furiously.

British Emeril's crew worked furiously.

"Now!" British Emeril shouted. "Engage the reversing engine!" There was a long moment of suspense as the engine… reversed. Idk. I'm not too familiar with this technology. I was a carpenter.

British Emeril's minion was spinning the wheel as fast as he could, but apparently it wasn't fast enough. "Move aside! Let me use my whisking arm!" he shouted, pushing the minion away and spinning the wheel himself. Everyone looked on in awe at British Emeril's skill. The reverse engine boinged at his touch and began reversing. Or whatev.

Meanwhile, the crew on the deck looked on in anticipation.

"Why aren't they turning?!" Jerry asked. "I can smell ice, you know! And it smells really icy right now! Can't they tell?"

Murdoch watched the stern in anxiety and anticipation. "Is it hard over?" he asked.

"Probably, idk," Billy replied.

Murdoch faced forward again, eyeing the iceberg. "Come on… come on… come on…" he chanted. A minion standing directly on the stern, trying to recreate Jack and Rose's iconic flying scene from a few hours ago, hopped back on deck when he saw how close the iceberg was. "It's gonna hit!" he shouted.

And then it happened. The iceberg crashed into the ship.

Mr. Andrews was seated at his inventing desk, simultaneously reading, writing, reviewing the blueprints for the ship, and inventing microwave popcorn. He had just tucked a sullen EJ into bed and settled in with a glass of wine, but this shudder running through the ship changed everything. He looked up at the shaking baubles on the light fixture. The time had come. The time had come.

"HARD A' PORT!" Murdoch shouted to Billy.

"HARD A' PORT!" Minion #47 shouted for no reason. Murdoch vowed to murder him.

Billy sighed. God damn it, he thought. The hard part was clearly not over. He began turning the wheel in the other direction.

~*~*~*~*~*Rose's POV*~*~*~*~*~

"Jack," I said, keeping my eye on the giant block of ice floating by the ship, "I think some shit is going down."

"DO YOU SEE THEIR FACES?" Jack asked. I turned around. He had used Cal's toolkit to bust a crack through the floorboards of the deck and was peering through it to see the cargo room we'd just left. "Water burst through the walls and knocked 'em off their feet! Their faces! Oh my god! They're drowning right now, so it's not as funny, but you can still see their faces if you want to come take a quick look."

"No! I don't care about their fucking faces!"

Jack looked up, ready to try and convince me otherwise, but stopped when he saw the GIANT ICE CUBE headed our way. "Look out!" He did the old arm-in-front-of-someone's-chest move and snuck a feel of my breastage in the process. I approved.

~*~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ's POV*~*~*~*~*~

Water burst through the burly minions' boiler room. They tossed and turned and swam and grabbed, looking for something to hold on to as the water whisked them away into the night.

"Oh no! The burly minions!" Murdoch remembered. He ran back to the bridge. Minion #47, who had just got himself another cup of tea, moved the fuck out of Murdoch's way. He wasn't about relive this shit again.

Murdoch ran past Billy, who was still trembling and holding the wheel, and pressed the "FLEE, BURLY MINIONS!" button. They knew what it meant.

The watertight doors-the burly minions' only escape-began to close, but they weren't afraid.

"COME ON THEN, MATES!" Fred shouted. "GO! GET OUT! G'DAY!" He slapped each of his minions on the bum as they departed, fighting their way through the water with all of their muscular might. When nearly every minion had escaped, Fred shimmied his way through the doors just as they closed. The minion after him was not so lucky. No one would ever pat his bum again, the unlucky minion realized, watching the doors seal his fate to a watery death.

The burly minions in the other boiler room ran to the closing watertight doors with all their might.

Burly Minion #14, who we shall call Steve, was running toward the doors at full speed when he spotted his friend, Burly Minion #32, who we shall call Evel Knievel. Evel was leaning against a pipe, eating an apple.

"Wtf, mate?" Steve asked. "The watertight doors are closing! Fred isn't even here to pat our bums! Come on!"

"Ehhhhhhhhhh," Evel said, taking a bite from the apple, "I'm not finished yet."

"You're down the core! You're done! Let's go!"

"Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, you go ahead. I'll catch up."

Evel took another bite of his apple as he watched Steve run through the doors. He chewed, swallowed, and then looked down at his apple core. "Ite, I guess I can go now. Oh, there's a cigarette butt. Some litter bug must have been littering here. I'll just pick this up and… okay, I guess it's ti-oh, is that a penny? No, just a button. Might as well pick it up all the same." He picked it up and put it in his pocket.

Then, taking a deep breath, he eyed the door, then sprinted toward it with all his might. Evel dove through the tiny crack left and just managed to get most of his body through. But his leg was still in the doorway! And the door was closing! Oh my gah! Oh my gah!

But it wasn't a problem for Evel. He deftly maneuvered his leg through the crack, and the door slammed shut not one second later. Evel had made it.

Up in the watchtower, Tom looked at Jerry with disappointment. "Smell ice, can ya? BLEEDING CHRIST," he said, taking the name of me in vain. I do not approve. I bled for your sins, buddy.

Murdoch watched as all the "FLEE, BURLY MINIONS!" lights lit up. He waited until all of them were lit up like a Christmas tree before he slowly turned back around. He looked at Minion #47. "Note the time. Enter it in the log, for fuck's sake."

Minion #47 looked behind him before looking back at Murdoch, he then pointed to himself before asking, "Me?"

He just jumped to the top of Murdoch's To Kill list.

~*~*~*~*Cappy's POV~*~*~*~

I was just on my way back to my room, happy as a peach, when suddenly everything started shaking! Idk what happened, as I have no previous ship captain experience, or any work experience for that matter. I hardly have any life experience. Mr. Andrews promised me this would be an easy job! All I had to do was memorize key phrases!

"Captain!" One of the minions grabbed onto my arm and shook it.

I frowned. "Ouch. Please don't do that."

"Capatin! What's going on? Did we hit a berg?"

"A what?"

"A berg!"

"A what now?"

"An iceberg!"

"Sorry?"

"An iceberg!"

"Isn't that some kind of lettuce?" I grinned. "Mr. Andrews puts iceberg lettuce on my tuna salad sandwiches. He stopped cutting the crust off for me a year ago though… he claimed I was a big boy now and had to learn how to eat crust, but what's your-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?" the minion yelled. I stopped mid-sentence, my eyes welling up with tears and my throat burning. Why was this man being so mean to me? I thought we were having a pleasant conversation! I was just about to ask him what his favorite kind of sandwich was.

"I-I…" I stuttered, sniffling quietly.

"GO SEE WHAT HAPPENED!" the mean minion yelled, literally pushing me back towards the bridge. I stumbled over my untied shoelaces, wishing I had my velcro sneaks on, but let the minion push me back out onto the bridge. I looked around, making awkward eye contact with Murdoch, my pal Billy, and Minion #47.

"Um…" I mumbled, looking down at my untied laces. "So… what um, what happened?" I asked, looking back over at Murdoch. He was a smart man, maybe he knew what the heck was going on.

"An iceberg, sir," he responded.

"Mhmm…" I nodded, trying to piece it together in my head. Was somebody throwing iceberg lettuce at the side of the ship? It kind of sounded like a Mario Party mini-game to me. I could picture it now: Yoshi, Luigi, Peach, and Wario all on an island, throwing whole iceberg lettuces at the side of the ship every time it passed until it finally sank.

Billy and I will have to discuss the details later.

Suddenly, Murdoch started speaking Ship to me. "I put her hard to starboard, but it was too close. I tried to port round it, but… she hit." My eyes widened. Didn't he know I was still learning? I wasn't fluent yet! Having no idea what he said and internally panicking, I tried to pick the correct memorized phrase to say to him.

Okay… 'she hit' leads me to believe we hit something… so I guess we hit the lettuce, not the other way around… if I do the sum in my head, that leads me to: "Close the FLEE, BURLY MINIONS! doors!" I exclaimed, smiling proudly and standing tall.

I barely finished getting the words out before Murdoch was already nodding. "They're closed, sir!"

Oh.

I nodded slowly, realizing that I was going to have to try and speak Ship back to him. I took a deep breath in before beginning to mumble, "Bearings… nautical miles… galley… helm…"

~*~*~*~*Murdoch's POV~*~*~*~

What the heck was he saying?

Jesus Christ, was everyone on this ship a fucking moron?!

~*~*~*~Jesus Christ's POV~*~*~*~

Stop taking my name in vain.

~*~*~*~*Cappy's POV~*~*~*~*

"...Current... tide... privileged vessel…" I continued, now counting them off on my fingers. Once I reached ten, I stopped and smiled at Murdoch. "K? k." I nodded again. Before Murdoch could respond, I quickly turned and scurried away. I was heading towards Mr. Andrew's room, which was adjoined to mine, but I quickly realized that Murdoch was following me.

"All stop!" I hollered, wanting Murdoch to stop following me.

"Aye sir!" one of the minions hollered from below.

Oh. Well, that's not what I meant, but okay. Trying to make it look like I hadn't been running away from my problems, I busied myself by inspecting things. I walked towards the end of the little hallway type deal and looked over the ledge, down at the ocean below.

Mhmm… yep, all seems okay there.

I took a peek behind me and Mr. Murdoch was still watching. I slowly turned around and looked over the railing to my right, which looked down at the decks below.

Aw, there was a cute little couple down there.

Look at all that snow on the deck! Maybe after I'm done doing whatever it is I'm doing now (I really dk) Mr. Andrews will let me put on my snow gear and play in it for a bit. I knew it was close to my bedtime, but... SNOW! I took another peek to my left and noticed Mr. Murdoch was looking at me expectantly.

"Um…" I mumbled. I had spoke just about every phrase I knew in Ship at him already. I closed my eyes, trying to picture some of the key phrases Mr. Andrews had written down in Chapter 13 of my Welcome Aboard! package. I squeezed my eyes shut harder, trying to imagine what the book had looked like.

Chapter 13: IN CASE OF EMERGENCY!

Don't worry, little guy. I've built you a solid ship! But it was thought, by some, that we didn't need as many life boats as I wanted… so just in case anything were to happen… memorize the following phrases. Remember that I love you!

My eyes shot open, suddenly remembering one of the phrases. "Have the carpenter sound the ship!"

"Aye, sir," Murdoch nodded before scurrying off.

"BOOM!" I cheered and did a little kick once he had scurried. I was such a good captain! "Hey, Billy, what time do you get off? Are you down for a quick Mario Party sesh before bedtime?"

~*~*~*~*Jesus Christ's POV~*~*~*~*

Meanwhile, wayyyyyyyyyyy down below the decks in the slums, Fabrizio Italy was awoken from his sleep. He sat up, confused as to why everything was shaking, but didn't know how to communicate this to his roommates.

See, his roommates were Swedish but he himself was Italian.

Fabby spoke a little bit of English.

His two roommates-let's call them Ikea and Smorgasbord-also spoke a little bit of English.

But when you put their two versions of broken English together as one… well, let's just say they had problems understanding each other. Because of this, Fabby sighed and sat up in bed, deciding that he'd just go see what all the fuss was about himself. He swung his legs over the side of his top bunk (suck it, Jack!) and jumped down.

But what he didn't expect was to land in water! Icy cold water! Water that felt like it had just come out of a freezer! Icy. "Alfredo sauce!" Fabby cursed loudly, throwing a shoe at Ikea's bunk. "Crushed tomatoes in a can!" he yelled in Italian, wanting the other two to wake up and see what had happened to their room.

"ABBA!" Ikea cursed, after being suddenly woken up by a filthy shoe that was dripping in water. "Absolut Vodka?" he asked, glaring at Fabby.

"Water!" Fabby exclaimed, gesturing down at his feet. "We're here in AMERRRRICCAAAA." That was the only explanation that Fabby could think of; he was told that God himself could not sink this ship. At least that's what he thought he heard. It may have been something else entirely. He's better at listening than he is at speaking though… so he's pretty sure. This must be how they tell the poor people that they had arrived.

"We go! We go now!" Fabby exclaimed, the excitement shown in his voice. "We see statue of liberty! Very big now! Rome!"

Ikea nodded, and then proceeded to tell Smorgasbord in Swedish that they had arrived at their destination. The two Swedes then followed Fabby out into the hallway, also excited that they had already arrived at their destination. They were definitely going to make headlines now! Ikea and Smorgasbord stopped abruptly though when Fabby paused in the doorway.

"Swedish Fish?" Ikea asked, attempting English again.

"Come on! Let's get the 'ell out of 'ere!" Tommy Ryan hollered, running past them carrying literally everything he owned in his big Irish hands. Tommy, Jack and Fabby had struck up a deal late one night and had decided to split everything they owned equally. They were a democracy now. So Tommy was carrying a lot of stolen items.

Meanwhile, wayyyyyyyyyy up in first class, some rich bitch was wandering the halls. We'll call her Martha. Martha was in the middle of counting and reorganizing her money, her nightly ritual, when she had felt a shudder. Confused, she began wandering the halls looking for a minion to ask. Relief washed over her when she finally spotted one, let's call him Paul. "Bitch? Why have the engines stopped? I felt a shudder," she demanded, glaring at Paul.

"Ahhhhhh, shouldn't worry, madam! We've likely thrown a propeller blade! Or somebody has thrown a bunch of lettuce at us! It's no biggie, really. God himself could not sink this ship! Srsly, you're panicking for no reason."

"Oh, okay," Martha said, nodding. "I mean, I wasn't really panicking? I thought I was relatively calm about this situation, all things considered."

They continued this conversation for another few minutes. As it turns out, Martha was actually a polite rich bitch, even to her minions. But that's not the focus right now! At the other end of the hallway, Mr. Andrews was walking with purpose, heading towards the bridge. In his arms he had literally every drawing and blueprint of the Titanic he owned, as well as a copy of the Emergency Protocol and his "I TOLD YOU SO!" shirt that he would change into once Ismay was near.

He fucking told that bitch.

Anyway, we'll get back to that.

Back in the slums of the ship, all of the poor people were scrambling around like eggs. Not that they've ever had eggs, but it's just an expression. Tommy was leading the pack, because he was Irish and loud and his voice traveled well, but the true leader of this pack was the rats.

The rats (literal rats. We aren't calling the poor people rats right now) were scurrying to try and get to the lifeboats in time. Team Leader Tommy sensed that some of his disciples were starting to question him, questioning on whether or not he was going the right way and why the Olive Garden waiter got to walk next to him during this charge. So to stop a mutiny from happening, he calmly stated, "If this is the direction the rats are goin', it's good enough for me, boyos!"

Everyone felt comforted and accepted this as a reasonable answer.

Thank gah Tommy stepped up in a time of crisis.

Anyway, back upstairs in rich bitch land, Bruce Ismay was now roaming the halls. He was doing up his dressing gown while his ugly maroon slippered covered feet carried him towards his destination. His mustache was flapping in the wind as he paced around angrily. He didn't quite understand how ships work, considering this whole thing was Mr. Andrews' idea, but he knew something was… off.

But in the next hallway over, Cal ripped the door to 52/54/56 open and angrily stopped out into the hallway. His wig was kiiiiind of askew now-anger tended to do that to him-and he appeared as though he had just finished another around of his evil laughter but no one could know for sure. "You!" Cal yelled, pointing at an annoyed looking minion. We'll call him Ronald.

"Sir," Ronald groaned, about to repeat the same thing he had already told ten other rich bitches on his way towards the elevator right before Cal had stopped him."There is no emergency."

Cal started angry blinking. "Wh-ye-I-" He always stuttered when he got angry (see: The Table Scene). Spicey laid a comforting hand on Cal's shoulder, encouraging him to find his words. "Yes there has! I've been robbed!" Cal finally finished.

"Good man," Spicey whispered at him. "Get the master at arms!" Spicey yelled at the Ronald, knowing that it would take another few minutes for Cal to spit that one out.

"Yeah! NOW you moron!" Cal yelled, looking at Ronald with disgust. Ronald slowly nodded, backing away, and Cal was quick to give him the universal sign for suck it by gesturing at his crotch with his palms.

Up on the deck, people were jollily kicking around a large piece of ice and laughing, not ignorant at all.

A passenger who according to the script is a young Yale man in his twenties, who we shall call Logan, came on the deck dressed in a robe. "Say, did I miss the fun?" Logan asked. "I was just making paella and I felt a shudder."

"No, I missed it," said his friend, who we shall call Colin. "Apparently it hit over there. But I ain't worried. This is no cause for concern. Let's play with this ice!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*Cappy's POV*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I was getting pist.

All I wanted was to get to my and Mr. A's adjoining rooms, find Mr. A, and talk to him about what was going on. But people kept following me! It was like a parade, and not the good kind. At first I thought it might be fun, and I instructed everyone to grab on to the hips of the person in front of them and we could do a conga line type deal, but they wouldn't go for it!

They just kept talking to me. Speaking Ship, of course. And, like, I get it. You guys are fluent. But I'm still learning. This is so unfair. So all I could do was say, "Mm hmm" and nod a lot as I scurried frantically to Mr. A's room with them following behind me. At one point I got into a closet and shut the door, but when I came out a minute later (it was dark in there), they were all standing there, waiting. So we carried on.

And then I turned a corner and almost crashed into Mr. A! His papers went flying everywhere, but he didn't seem to care.

"EJ! I've been looking for you!" Relief washed over his face when he saw me. I was glad he didn't seem to be mad at me for the whole I hate you thing. Maybe he knew I didn't mean it.

"I've been looking for you!" I exclaimed. "And..." I took a step forward and whispered into Mr. A's ear, "These people keep following me. They won't even do a conga line. I just want them to go away."

He put his hand on my shoulder. "I know it's rough right now, EJ. But you remember what I wrote in your welcome packet? What to do when you run out of phrases to say?"

I thought back, long and hard. "Come find you. And if you aren't around, nod and agree with whatever they say."

Mr. A smiled. "That's right. And I'm here now. So you don't have to worry anymore." He bent to pick up his papers, then stood and looked back to the group of pesky followers behind me. "Carpenter Hutchinson! Have you sounded the ship?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me your findings as we walk to the deck."

It seemed like we were all about to start walking and talking again. Sigh.

"And if everyone could grab onto the hips of the person in front of them..." I said. It was worth a shot.

"Sir," said Carpenter Hutchinson, "I really don't think-"

"Mr. Hutchinson," Mr. A said, "are you defying the direct orders of the captain of this ship? Now grab onto Captain Smith's hips and tell me what you found when you sounded the ship!"

I grinned with glee and waited for everyone to get into conga formation. Soon we were conga-ing down the corridor in a line led by me. Everyone was speaking Ship, but it was okay. Mr. A was here now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*Rose's POV*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jack and I passed all the merry people playing with ice. But something didn't seem right to me. It just didn't.

Suddenly Mr. Andrews, Cappy, and two ship minions came storming past us in a conga line. As they moved, kicking a leg to the side every three steps, they talked in worried tones.

"Boiler Room 6 is flooded eight feet above the plate and the nail hold is worse. She's all buckled in in the forward pump," one of them was saying.

I saw Mr. Andrews look toward Cappy, as if waiting for him to say something. Cappy furrowed his brow and then said, "Can you shore up?"

Mr. Andrews broke into a grin and gave Cappy a thumbs-up.

"Not unless the pumps get ahead," the minion replied.

"Have you seen the damage to the nail hold?" Mr. Andrews asked.

"No, she's already under water."

Jack and I watched them conga across the deck. "This is bad," he said. "But this is just a guess. I could be wrong. I don't want to assume and make an ass out of U and ME."

"You might be r-" I stopped, catching myself just in time. Jack and I furtively glanced all around us, looking for any sign of Molly. When it appeared that we were safe, I continued, "I-I agree with your guess. We should tell Mother and Cal."

"We? Together? How about... you go tell them, and I'll hang around here. Maybe I'll check on Fabby and Tommy. They must be going crazy without me as their leader."

"No, Jack, no. We should tell them. Together. We should hold hands as they do it."

"I just feel like they won't like the idea of you and me announcing our love while we tell them something went wrong with the ship. They might focus on us instead of the problems with the ship. You feel?"

"No!" I shouted. "No, I do not feel! We are telling them together and that's final!"

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite," Jack said. "I guess. I suppose. I feel like this won't go over well, but... ite."