A Battleship, sailing majestically. Enter a common SAILOR.
Ahoy ye sailors!—friends and noblemen—
Riding ‘twixt glist’ring waves so bright and blue
That one cannot help but stand and marvel
At the resplendence of Neptune’s kingdom
And the miracle of color correction!
A Band of Brothers we are not, but rather,
A jambalaya of studs and starlets,
Drawn from ev’ry creed and ev’ry hair-type,
Selected, as if by algorithm,
To inflame the hearts and body issues
Of the prize’d target demographic.
Anon, we join this ship—this Battleship!—
With spirits high and cheekbones higher still,
Our sextants fix’d upon the one truly
Bankable star aboard this o’erstuffed vessel.
He whose sapphire eyes and manly shoulders,
Doth evoke the simple ethos of the
Heartland; belied only slightly by the
Rich Irish brogue that doth cling to ev’ry
Consonant like so many barnacles.
Liam Neeson enters, dressed as a CAPTAIN.
Hark! He comes! Pray don’t mention what I said
About his accent.
The CAPTAIN addresses the CREW with a barely concealed Irish accent.
Friends! Gaffers! Hang’rs-on!
‘Tis I, thy totally American captain,
Proud son of one of those states in the middle
That definitely hath a name, although
I cannot recall it at the moment.
Forsooth Captain, canst thou at least name the
First letter o’ the state?
The CAPTAIN shakes his head.
Alas, I cannot.
The CREW grumbles in disappointment.
But stay, friends! I come bearing sweet tidings:
For my accountant hath called and confirmeth
Beyond all doubt that mine check hath clear’ed!
And so I am honor-bound to maintain
A straight face for the next ninety minutes,
Even whilst barking generic orders,
Like “Hard to Starboard!” and “Full speed ahead!”
All of which hath been trademarked by Hasbro.
‘Tis indeed an honor to serve amongst
Such distinguish’d mariners as the guy
From True Blood, Riggins from Friday Night Lights,
And th’ pop star Rihanna—all of whom
Seem to be coated in a thin layer
Er, Captain, excuse the interruption,
But art thou going anywhere with this?
Nay, my good man, not really. Just riffing.
Enter RIHANNA, THE GUY FROM TRUE BLOOD, and RIGGINS, FROM FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS.
How now, Rihanna? What ho, guy from True Blood?
What news dost thou bring from the radar thingie?
Ay me, dear captain! Most grievous fortune!
For we are invaded by space robots!
The CAPTAIN is confused.
Space robots? Art thou sure sweet Rihanna?
For yea, I cannot recall any such
Robots in the original board game.
Only a grid of numbers and letters,
And cheap plastic pegs with which for keeping score.
THE GUY FROM TRUE BLOOD
Thou rememberest correctly O Captain
But the gods at Hasbro hath recognized
Long ago that the Battleship brand
Couldst not survive on grids and pegs alone.
Hence the space robots.
I see thy logic.
What say’st thou Riggins from Friday Night Lights?
Pray let me defer to the True Blood Guy,
For alas, I have forgotten my lines.
The CAPTAIN nods, resolved.
If Riggins concurs then it is settled!
We shall attack the space robots at once!
The CREW cheers.
Hard to starboard! Full speed ahead! Ready
The doubles! For if we are true of heart
And straight of face there is no way this thing
Cannot gross a bajillion dollars!
Exeunt. End of scene.