You’re in your prime. You’re a young, fit, sexually active sewer rat.
You’re scurrying along the streets of Newfoundland, looking for some garbage to eat, stale beer to drink, and some sassy she-rats with questionable moral values to bang.
Once the cruise food is gone, it’s bang and eat or be banged and eaten.
You and your buddies crawl out from behind your favorite pub and what do you see? A 300-foot cruise ship docked and abandoned. 4,200 tons of luxury and shitty wasted food are yours for the taking.
A month into the party, you notice that the rat population is increasing, but there is plenty of food and rat snatch to go around. After a few months, you start to reevaluate your life and ability to control your drinking. You decide you are going to go back to school and maybe try to meet a nice girl at church, instead of trying to wife up one of these godless slut rats from the cruise ship.
You make for the exits with a new lease on life and then BAM!!! You fall on your face when the ship jars loose and starts to move. You rush to the window to find that the ship is being towed out to sea. What the fuck?!!!
The party is over and the fight for survival is on. Once the cruise food is gone, it’s bang and eat or be banged and eaten. You find a place to hide for a few days while panic spreads. Survival of the fittest is an ugly thing to witness from a broom closet. The sexy Brad and Angelina rats are the first to be humped and eaten, of course. What’s left are the water head, Tapout T-shirt-wearing, gang-raper rats. These are the moments that define us.
This is basically what happened with the Lyubov Orlova, a luxury liner designed to sail the Russian elite around on Arctic tours. The owners of the ship went bankrupt and failed to pay the employees, causing the mass exodus of a much-needed crew.
Canadian authorities towed the ship to Newfoundland, where it sat for two years, allegedly collecting rats. I say allegedly because no one knows where the fucking ship is. It was towed out to sea and released into international waters when selling it for scrap became too big of a hassle.
I hope it crashes into the side of a cruise ship full of sick people and then Seal Team 6 is called in to handle it.
When two lost lifeboats sent out an emergency signal and the ship’s location, authorities realized that the ship had sailed two-thirds of the way across the Atlantic and was headed for Scotland. When a search party found nothing, theories began to float that the ship had sunk, most likely to the relief of anyone in a position of “authority.”
I have no such authority or accountability. I want worst-case scenario.
I want the cannibal rat ship to sail out of the fog and into Scotland. Hard. Nothing against Scotland, but we can’t just waste a ghost ship full of rats. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I hope it crashes into the side of a cruise ship full of sick people and then Seal Team 6 is called in to handle it.
That ship does us no good on the bottom of the ocean.