As much as it pains me to alarm you, I believe that, as passengers of the Tahitian Princess, you ought to be made aware of an unfortunate reality that has recently come to pass. Collectively speaking, we are in something of a pickle. Please don't take this the wrong way; there's little that you or I could have done to avoid this disastrous turn of events. Although it may be your gut reaction to hoist the rucksack of guilt, a more thorough analysis of the situation will surely give way to an understanding that our current predicament has not arisen due to the activities of our guests. Rather, it would be more accurate to say that our present dilemma is primarily resultant of a few major miscalculations on the part of Princess Cruises motorman Tucker Applebottom. But let's not get hung up on such technicalities; our circumstances demand action.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that an anecdotal approach to this announcement might help to disarm some of the more unsettling qualities of the message that I'm attempting to communicate.
When I was just a small boy with a taste for crabmeat and an as-of-yet unquestioned love for my homeland, my dear mother passed along a piece of advice that I will carry with me to the end of my days. She sat me down on the docks at Avarua and spoke assertively:
"Son?"
"Yes, mother?"
"Rest your head on my stomach and listen closely."
I obeyed, hesitantly at first. Slowly I became acquainted with a faint but palpable thumping, accented by occasional kicks and strange gurgles.
"Can you feel it?"
"Yes, mother."
"Boy, you better never forget your sweet-ass how to swim!"
I certainly haven't.
Did I forget to mention that I'm from the Cook Islands? I've actually found that I've become a bit disenchanted with the place of late. I think that that has something to do with the rats.
What's that? You want Bob to make the announcement?
Well I'm sorry. I was only trying to help.
Okay, fine.
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