And it Begins...

...and it's very dark in here as you can surely tell the difference between darkness and light. I mean really, who doesn't know the difference anyway? What kind of silly bastard can't see whether or not it's dark or light where they are? Seriously, even when you have your eyes shut you can tell that there's some kind of light going on, otherwise we wouldn't have to have it dark in order to fall asleep. Now I'm kind of sleepy... maybe I can catch some shut-eye, or partially closed-eye or something similar. Yawn... but wait! I need help. I've been lost away at sea for perhaps days or weeks or hours or even some other measurement of time not yet discovered. Ever since the last embarkment toward Papua New Guinea with The Boss and the many other characters that we know and love so much, I've been searching for more, for purpose, and above all... for scotch. You see, since that fateful voyage, The Boss has left me of my Jacky D. ways and I've gone straight for the single malt scotch. Drinkingly I found myself aboard the S.S. Glen, thinking this would be the first step toward finding the ever-elusive 1,000 year aged single malt, named simply... Glengodly. Alas it was only a ruse however, as when I awoke from my drunken stupor, I found myself sitting next to some dude named Glen. I could think of only one thing to say to him.
"Dude, what's with only one "n" on your name? That's pretty fuckin' weird."
"It was my father's name." the "One 'N'ed Glen replied, stupidly.
"I've no way to understand your stupidity." I responded drunkingly, looking to be drinkingly, failing and being very disappointed.
Then, just as I was about to exclaim, as we know I'm prone to do, the bastard had me arrested on board and placed in the very dark (darkness explained (but not exclaimed) earlier in this entry) hull of the ship, which is odd that it would be referred to as a hull and not a haf, since it doesn't encompass the entirety of the ship.
I was angry (and still hung over) at the interruption prior to my exclaim, so I exclaimed loudly like I just didn't care "You can't stop my exclaim!" and it was amazing. Those arresting me paused noticeably as if to silently say to eachother "should we applaud?" And they nodded in unison and gave me an ovation for my still-incredible exclaiming ability. After a brief bow, a shoutout to the one they call The Boss, I was bound again and brought to the hull, from which I write this begging for help... help in the form of assistance, freedom, and of course, scotch. Please save me from certain death and most importantly, my sobriety...

The Niles