[Author's note: I never thought I'd write a fanfic using someone else's characters. It's been a long-standing taboo for me. But, there was a post in the Class Menagerie forums that dealt with "opening lines" -- make the strangest, most bizarre first line for the beginning of a story. There were many who played along with that post with some really amusing lines. One of the ones I posted struck something within me, and I couldn't shake the image it conjured from my mind. Like "naming a demon", I had to create the story. I wish I could have inspiration like this more often, as the story took me all of three days to make. It's still rough around the edges, and I'll find myself doing some minor tweaks over the next few weeks, but it's here now for your enjoyment. -MC]
Last editedFinal Edit (Brad yelling at whale): 17-April-02 16:35EDT
Hook, Line and Sinker
A "Class Menagerie" fanfic
By Mark "PunkTiger" Correia
Scott cursed himself for going on this fishing trip with Brad as he sat in the whale's stomach. He didn't know what to do, and briefly reflected on the events that led to his current predicament...
It was, supposedly, one of those "professional" deep sea fishing excursions. Brad's friend, Eric, had to bow out at the last minute, leaving the jayhawk with an extra ticket. Since he didn't want it to go to waste, he invited Scott. Not his first choice, but he was the only one around the dorms at the time -- besides Mikey, that is. And he CERTAINLY wasn't going to invite him... he wanted to ENJOY this trip. At least he found Scott tolerable.
They made their way to the marina by 6:30 in the morning. The captain, a portly walrus by the name of Leroy, cheerfully met them at the docks. It seemed that the other four people that were to join them had failed to show leaving them as the only anglers on the boat. Brad was pleased at the prospect of a "private" fishing trip, but Scott really would have liked to have someone else to talk to... especially if there was a pretty young lady aboard. At least the day was turning out nice. Perhaps he could just soak up some sun later on.
The boat itself looked like a fishing schooner, but with an "observation deck" -- which looked like it was hurriedly built as an afterthought.
"I dunno about this, Brad," said Scott as he boarded the boat. "I was never much into fishing."
"Aw, come on Scott... Where's your sense of adventure?"
"It's a fishing trip. It's not supposed to be adventurous."
The boat's engines chugged into life and soon they made their way out of the harbour and into the deep Pacific blue.
Around 9 o'clock or so, Leroy stopped the boat and the three of them broke out the poles and started fishing. Noontime came and went. Brad and Leroy seemed to have all the luck fishing, while Scott didn't get as much as a nibble. They broke for lunch.
"I'm not getting anywhere quick in the fishing department," Scott said, finishing off the rest of his sandwich. "Tell you what. For the rest of the day, why don't you two enjoy yourselves fishing? I'll just go to the observation deck and soak up some of this gorgeous sunshine." He grabbed a deck chair from storage and headed off to the upper deck. He stripped down to his green, skin-tone Speedo, and stretched out in the chair.
It was around 2 in the afternoon when Brad noticed a whale spouting in the distance.
"Now there's something you don't see everyday," remarked Brad.
"Aye, true enough..." Leroy nodded. "It's migration season. For about a couple of weeks or so you'll see a few of them around. There's lots of fish, plankton and other sea creatures around here for them to feast on as they make their journey."
A big dark mound rose up and spouted a few hundred yards away.
"See that?" asked Leroy. "See the way that spout goes forward and to the left? That's the blow of a sperm whale. Odd to see them around here, though. According to my charts, we're pretty far off from the migration routes. I guess a few will stray."
"Are we in any danger?"
"No... Sperm whales are harmless for the most part. Sure, they'll get pretty torqued off if you shove a harpoon in 'em -- who wouldn't -- but leave them be and they're fairly docile. I've done some whale watching excursions in the past. Got up close and personal to a right whale a few times, actually got to touch one, but the sperm's will usually shy away."
The whale came up and spouted again... this time much closer.
Leroy chuckled. "It's probably just investigating us. Or eating all the fish around here."
Brad jokingly shook his fist at the whale. "Go on, ya big lummox, scram! We were here first!" He turned to the walrus and smiled. "Maybe I should drop my line and try to catch it?"
*Heh* "I don't know... Is that line tested for 80 tons?" grinned Leroy. "What kind of bait do you have?"
They suddenly felt the boat rock a little as the whale bumped it.
Brad started. "What the hell...?"
Leroy looked overboard and saw the dark shape of the whale's tale slipping beneath the boat. "Looks like someone wants to play." He didn't seem too concerned.
"Captain, that whale just rammed the boat!"
"He only bumped it. He'll probably pass by a few more times, then his curiosity will be sated and he'll swim off. It's happened before, it'll happen again."
The whale bumped the boat again.
Scott was roused from his reverie with all the bumping and rocking going on. He got up from the chair and leaned over the rail of the observation deck. "Hey, guys! What's going on down there? Why is the ship rocking?"
Leroy looked up. "Nothing to worry about, Scott. It's just a whale getting a closer look at us. He'll probably swim off in a few minutes."
"Geez, Scott," Brad smirked, "Can't you show any more skin?"
Scott stuck out his tongue. "What'd you expect me to do? Go sunbathing in a down jacket and trousers? The sun gives my scales that green glow that makes us iguanas so irresistible to the babes. The scale oil helps, too." To prove his point, he flexed his body in a provocative pose; the scale oil shimmering on his pecs and biceps.
Just then, the whale knocked the boat much harder than before. It tilted, knocking Scott off balance. With a surprised yelp, he tumbled over the rail and plunged head-first into the ocean.
Leroy ran to get a life preserver from the wheelhouse wall. Brad kept an eye on Scott as he started to swim back to the surface. But, what happened next would be burned into Brad's mind for the rest of his days. He watched in horror as Scott disappeared into the open jaws of the whale as it swam by.
"HOLY #&@*!! THAT #&@*ING WHALE JUST ATE SCOTT!!"
"Suck WHAT??" Leroy shouted.
"The damn whale just ate Scott!"
"You're joking, right?"
"DAMN IT! I SAW HIM GET SWALLOWED!! AND THAT FOOL WHALE WENT THAT WAY!!" Brad pointed out a direction. "NOW START THE #&@*ING ENGINES AND LET'S GET AFTER IT!"
Leroy was absolutely stunned at the news. "Sacred Lady! B... Brad, if Scott's been eaten, there nothing we can do about it!" He ran to the wheelhouse and started the ship's engines. "Even if we called the Coast Guard, found the right whale and killed it to get to him, there wouldn't be much left." The boat started moving in the direction Brad pointed. "It's sad and tragic for sure, but what, realistically, can we possibly do to save him now?"
Brad wasn't even paying attention to him. He was beside himself with rage as he shouted at the whale from the bow of the boat, tears welling up in his eyes. "COME BACK HERE YOU GOD-DAMNED BASTARD AND COUGH SCOTT BACK UP!!"
Scott felt the ship suddenly rock beneath his feet. The movement flung him from the deck and sent him toppling over the rail. Fortunately, he wasn't going to, literally, hit the deck. His arc took him a good distance from the boat. He took a deep breath and got into a diving position as quickly as he could just as he hit the water. The initial shock of hitting the cold water nearly stunned him as he dove straight down. He quickly regained his senses and began to swim to the surface. He heard a series of deep clicks come from his left, then he was suddenly encompassed by a hot darkness. It slid and thrust him head-first into a rubbery tube which forced him down its length. The constriction gave way after a few moments and Scott found himself on his hands and knees in a dark, throbbing and slimy chamber, almost completely covered in the knee-deep sludgy muck.
He sat down and tried to clear the gunk from his face. It took him about four heartbeats for him to realize just what the hell happened. It took only a couple more for him to realize just where the hell he WAS.
"GAH!!"
Scott was torn between pounding his fists against the stomach walls and screaming or curling up into a fetal ball and screaming. Neither one would probably help him much.
"I should have never gone on this damn fishing trip. How the hell am I going to get out of here?" He could feel a tingling sensation starting in his feet, legs and tail and knew he would have to do something fast... before the inevitable happens. Then, an idea hit him from out of the blue. It was an act of desperation, but one he had to try.
"Can't this ship go any faster??"
"Brad, I can't even see where the whale went."
He scowled at the walrus. "You just don't want to help him!!"
"All right, say we do catch up with the whale. What are you going to do then? Jump down it's throat with a rope and pull him out?"
"If I have to...!"
"BRAD! SCOTT IS DEAD! FACE IT! NO ONE CAN SURVIVE BEING EATEN BY A WHALE!!" Leroy yelled, trying to get the jayhawk to face the truth.
Brad whirled back to face the captain, fists clenched in rage. But, something inside him finally snapped. His hands dropped to his sides and he collapsed on the deck, his body wracked with sobs.
Leroy crouched beside the grieving jayhawk. "Only a miracle not seen since Biblical times could save him now. And the Age of Miracles has long since passed. I'm very very sorry, Brad."
"It's just so... damn... unfair," Brad said, between sobs, "that a freak accident like this would take his life."
"I know, Brad. It's a shame. But there's nothing we can do." Leroy let him mourn for a few more minutes. "Let's turn the ship back to port. I have to radio the authorities and let them know what's happened."
Brad nodded and got shakily to his feet. "I'll be all right, captain. Do what needs to be done." He slowly walked to the side of the ship and looked out over the ocean. He blinked away some tears from his eyes. "Scott, you were a vain, self-centered bastard, but deep down you had a heart of gold. Nobody, not even Mikey, deserved to die like that."
An unusual movement in the water caught his eye, disturbing his introspection. It looked, for the life of him, like Scott waving to him from the water. His eyes misted over again and waved back to him. "Good bye, Scott..." His heart jumped. SCOTT???
"LEROY!! IT'S SCOTT!! IT'S SCOTT!!!!"
"Scott? Where??"
Brad pointed out a direction. "OVER THERE! IN THE WATER!! ABOUT A COUPLE HUNDRED YARDS!"
The walrus steered the ship in Brad's direction. Sure enough, there was Scott in the water, still very much alive and waving frantically to them. Leroy stopped the boat when they got close enough. Brad leapt from the deck into the ocean and swam for Scott.
"Brad, you nut! Let me lower the ladder first!" Leroy busied himself with the rope ladder, draping it down the side of the ship.
"Scott! Scott! Is it you?? Are you all right?" It was almost comical -- in his excitement, Brad wasn't swimming as much as he was flailing his arms and legs trying to get to him.
The iguana nodded, but he looked completely exhausted. With a relieved smile, he nearly collapsed into Brad's arms.
Brad held on to Scott and swam for the ship's rope ladder. He carried him up the ladder and sat him in a chair on deck. Leroy brought over some blankets and wrapped them around the shivering iguana and jayhawk.
Brad scrutinized Scott's body, looking for any injuries. He noticed a few of his foot claws were broken and bleeding a little. "Scott, what the hell happened?"
"It's mostly a blur," he spoke groggily. "I remember hitting the water... I remember trying to swim to the surface... then sudden darkness... next thing I know, I'm sitting in a whale's stomach."
"I completely freaked when I saw you get eaten. How'd you get out?"
Scott thought for a moment. "As I was sitting in there, I thought it was all over. And then -- I can't explain how the thought suddenly popped in my head -- but I remembered hearing Tony explaining something in his biology studies on how compounds like ipecac works by irritating the stomach lining. So, I started clawing up the place with my finger and toe claws, even flailing my tail around. It felt like I was at it for an eternity, but suddenly the walls collapsed around me, forcing me back up its throat and into the water again. It took me a while to get most of the slime off." He shivered again. "I didn't even know where I was when I surfaced. My eyes got used to the light again, and I managed to spot the boat. You probably were a good mile or so off, but I swam for it."
Leroy broke out a first aid kit and tended to Scott's toes and fingers.
"It's a good thing we were moving toward you." Brad said. He shook his head in disbelief, "When I saw the whale get you, I thought you were dead."
"You weren't the only one." Scott's tone was quite somber. "If you don't mind, I think I'll spend the rest of the trip in the wheelhouse."
"Of course, Scott," Leroy nodded. "I have a bunk in the back cabin. You can rest there and I'll get the ship back to port right away. Your claws were pulled out a bit, but the salve and wrap should help them heal shortly. Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm still breathing, that's a plus. I'm still a bit sore here and there and very tired. I'll let you know once the shock wears off. But, I doubt if I'll ever go fishing again." He thought briefly. "Y'know, when we get back to shore, I'm going to get Tony a year's supply of tiramisu." He looked down at his body. He noticed some patches where his skin had been bleached a slightly lighter shade of green. His feet, lower legs and tail that had been in contact with the whale's stomach acid the longest were still a little tender, but there was little damage to speak of. The only thing left of his Speedo, however, was the acid-scarred waistband that fell off as soon as he touched it. He wrapped the blanket around himself, keeping what little modesty he had left. "It's a good thing my scales were tougher than that." He got to his feet. "Well, you were right about one thing, Brad. It certainly was an adventure." He walked slowly to the wheelhouse cabin and closed the door.
A little while later, Brad got Scott's shirt and trousers from the observation deck and placed them near the bunk where he lay sleeping. He looked at the iguana, and remarked to himself, "You're a hell of a lot braver than I would have been. You are one damn lucky lizard."
They arrived back at the docks later that evening. They all agreed that no charges would be pressed as it was, if you'll excuse the pun, a fluke. As soon as they got back to the dorms, Scott took a long shower to scrub off the scent and what little whale junk was left. He explained the bleached marks on his body by saying that it's an odd skin condition iguanas get now and then and it'll pass. He told his doctor that there was a minor accident in the chemistry lab. He was prescribed some ointment and lots of sunshine to help molt off the dead scales. In a few weeks, he was the healthy green specimen of vanity and lecherousness that everyone knew.
For the remainder of their time at DeMontfort, Brad and Scott would banter about the ordeal in obscure ways, making it more of an "inside" joke. Perhaps most surprising of all, Scott didn't seem traumatized about his adventure... much. He was a bit skittish of being in a dark room for a few months, he did have a few nightmares (which Mikey gleefully explained were brought on by his dietary and sleeping habits), and he wouldn't eat fish for a full year.
On the plus side, he took a keen interest in marine biology and cetology... to the point of unofficially minoring in the subject.
He actually thought it was cool that he stood up to Death and gave it a wedgie and beat such an incredibly powerful creature as a whale. Of course, he tried using that to impress the girls...
"Hey, baby, I'm a modern-day Jonah. A whale once tried to eat me but I slapped it around 'til it let me go."
"Ha! It figures... Not even a whale could stomach you, Scott."
Thus ends another chapter of "Life at DeMontfort U: The Alternate Realities".
"Hook, Line and Sinker" is ©2002 Mark "PunkTiger" Correia. "The Class Menagerie" and the characters Brad Hawthorne and Scott Sorrell are © Vince Suzukawa and are used by permission. This is a work of fan fiction and should NOT be considered canon. The events and characters portrayed and the names used in this story are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons living or dead or to actual events or circumstance is entirely coincidental and not intentional. (And if this DID happen to you, for God's sake, please let me know! Have I got some questions for you!)
This story may be freely distributed by electronic media provided NOTHING is changed or omitted (including this notice). Hardcopies are limited to single printings for personal use. All other rights reserved. Comments are welcomed and wholly appreciated.
E-Mail: punktiger at clovertone dot com