Danielle Koenig is a comedy writer (The Dish, Dark Air with Terry Carnation, Invader ZIM) and cohost of the comedic podcast How to Survive with Danielle & Kristine.
14 April, 1912
Dearest Mother,
I write to you with most excellent news. I have landed a job on the great steamship called Titanic! It seems my decision to leave the bosom of family behind was not as foolhardy as Father feared. To think, he called me “unlucky!”
First, I must tell you how I procured the job. Feeling full of vim and vigor upon my arrival in Southampton, I inquired within several public houses, hoping to gain employment. It seemed there wasn’t an opening in sight, and I worried that perhaps Father was right in his protestations regarding my venture. I had just made the decision to turn around and come home when a black cat crossed my path—causing me to look up and see before me that great ode to modern ingenuity, the Titanic!
Oh, Mother how its smokestacks called to me! It was like the Sirens summoning wayward sailors! Only in a thoroughly positive way with no ironic ending!
Hurriedly, I made my way to the behemoth and was immediately awed by her majesty. Before me were hundreds of men knotting ropes and washing her down until she sparkled in the sun. I scanned the dock in search of someone in charge and spotted a man in a handsome waistcoat who was presently barking commands. (I must admit it was at this point in my adventure whence your treasured pocket mirror fell from my rucksack and shattered, but I shall buy you a new one upon my happy return!)
I rushed my way toward the Captain, climbing over ropes and ducking under ladders as I went. I mustered up my courage and asked if there wasn’t a position that yet needed filling. He informed me that no, every position had been filled weeks ago. My heart sunk low and my visage must have been most pathetic, but fortune favored me yet. Before I disembarked, he called out to me, “You know, there is one last thing we need.”
“You’ll oversee the rearranging of the deck chairs,” the good captain explained. “To suit the needs of the first-class passengers. If they want to be in the sun, or out of the sun, that sort of thing.” Oh, how my heart did swell at the prospect, mother! Imagine me, your only son, just 18 years of age and set to the most important task on the great journey of the unsinkable Titanic!
And so it is that I’m writing to you on the third day of our voyage, on the very deck, whose chairs I am to rearrange at a moment’s notice! It is--
Forgive me Mother, a magpie just flew overhead and, in my haste to shoo it away, I spilled some salt.
Please pass along my affections to Father and the girls. I shall write more tomorrow!
Your loving and devoted son,
Jonah Macbeth
It’s my birthday!
Editor’s note: Yep, that’s right, today is my birthday. I’m turning 39 years old. If you want to get me a present, you could always become a paid Chortle subscriber!
As a matter of fact, I’ll give you a discount: 39% off for today only!
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