As I almost reach the half-way mark, I find arising in me yet another alterna-version of the Great American Novel. I beg thee, Gentle Reader, avast! Do read the previous post (below) afore ye proceed with this!
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Mopey-Dick
or, The Baleful Whale
Mr. Starbuck tires of his mates' morose, paranoid speeches and endless lectures on oceanography, cetology, meteorology, religion, history, sociology, philosophy and cosmology. He begins to think that Ahab, Ishmael, and everyone else on board with a biblical name suffers from melancholia. He breaks the seal on the medication trunk, and, with help from the dough-faced steward, grinds 20 mg of Prozac into their daily portion of gruel.
A week later, Ahab is overheard remarking to the third mate, "D'ye mark it, my hearty? 'Tis a fine day!" The crew, alarmed as much at the brevity of his speech as the cheerfulness, mutiny. "We won't be toleratin' no cap'n who palavers so simple!," they exclaim, as they lock Ahab in the hold. "When ye remember how to speechify with noble insanity, as ye were wont to do, we'll grant ye freedom once more!"
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