The Great Sael Adventure 1
Phil goes away.
The remainder of the ship decides to have an unconventional materials challenge for their ongoing, bi-monthly drag competition: The Commodore's Drag Race: "-91 091 0091 RA, 1600 160 16- Dec". The Commodore declares that any materials on the ship are fair game (with the exception of pre-made clothing) and the competitors may use their own shoes and wigs. You say, "Ready... go!", and the clock starts counting down, with the crew having only 91 minutes to put their best look together for tonight's runway.
Immediately the crew members who remain in the competition start working on their outfits, scrambling to find the best materials. They rush around and inside the ship, searching for those materials which can best prepare them for the runway presentation. Some rummage through the hold, tossing aside valuable provisions in favor of poor substitutes for 4-way stretch fabric. Others dig through the orlop, the gun deck, and the upper decks, grabbing crates, boxes, and stray objects in the hopes of becoming The Bonnie's Next Drag Superstar.
The 91 minutes pass by in a blur, with competitors sticking mostly to their own work; the queens pause only to discuss their childhood trauma, sharing stories of how their families reacted to the revelation that they were street performers and the struggles that face those in the urban arts these days. A few tears accompany makeup application and final wig placements, and then the outfits are as ready as they'll ever be.
The competitors line up backstage (in The Commodore's quarters) to share their outfits. Even though this is The Commodore's Drag Race, you host and judge the event because The Commodore is very competitive and also loves to serve fish.
"It's been a tight season of The Commodore's Drag Race, and we're down to the top four," you say. "This challenge will determine who among you advances to the final. Category Is: Tunatrocious!"
"First Up! Chuck (The Ball Handler)."
The Ball Handler walks onto the main deck. She is wearing a crop top made of the top half of a keg attached to her shoulders with bootstraps. On her bottom half she wears a wrap skirt made out of the mizzenmast, tied off with a rope belt. She also wears combination fishnets/greaves made out rigging cables and her own ship's boots. The rest of the mizzenmast forms a wig, folded origami-style into the shape of a tuna. In her left hand she rolls around one of her signature balls—this month, she's handling a cannonball in her hand.
"She's not skirting by tonight!" you holler.
"Next Up! Rufus (The Game Player)."
Wearing an impeccable blush made of rust from the anchor, The Game Player stomps onto the deck. Accentuating her face are spiraling earrings made out of the forks from The Commodore's quarters. She walks on in a stunningly revealing outfit, wearing only doubloon pasties with the tiniest scrap of a map in front of her tuck. It's the crucial part of the treasure map with the "X" on it. She turns around to reveal that she's painted her butt cheeks: the left one says "Game" and the right one says "Player". As she exits the deck, she holds up a single playing card. It's the Ace of Tunas.
"X marks the spot!" you call out.
"Next Up! Hop (The Skipper) (Who Moonlights As A Tightrope Walker)!"
The Skipper holds out one arm onto the deck before the rest of her body. She has pulled off and bent metal bars from the brig into a set of chunky bangles. Next her torso and legs enter the deck. On her chest is a harness made out of the straps from the ship's life jacket reserves; she has cut the straps so they read "TUNA" over and over again, in an endless chain of TUNAs. The rest of the jacket she has cut to create strappy leggings the just barely cover her tuck and frame her booty like a jock strap. As her head finally comes through the doorway, the non-competing crew let out a collective gasp. She has whittled a full makuṭa (inspired by her last appointment as a Street Performer in Bangkok) and placed it on her head in lieu of a wig. She walks down the runway with her signature tightrope-style walk, barefoot as always.
"I'm not skipping her tonight!" you shout.
"Finally! The Commodore!"
The commodore makes a grandiose entrance, clad in a stylish and classic trench fashioned from the ships own Jolly Roger. She has added a hand-stitched monogram on the lapel; it reads "TC." The crew cheer out in support.The Commodores tosses aside her trench coat in a single fluid motion to reveal a barnacle-crusted frock crafted from Executive Chef Cookie’s most favorite ornate silk tablecloth. The look is complete with a compass medallion necklace, tall fishnet stockings made from real fishnets, and a positively nautical gunpowder smoky eye. The crew falls into a hushed, awed silence. The Commodore struts down the deck in her very own pleather utility boots. From inside her barnacle bra she pulls ten tuna sushi rolls which she was able to prepare while creating her outfit; she also pulls serving dishes from her boots and passes out the food to the crew members closest to her. She wears her signature Commodore's wig and black tri-corner hat with gold trim.
"And the Caissons keep sushi rolling along!" you joke as The Commodore returns to the cabin and you dig in to the heavenly tuna roll.
This is it. All the performers return to the deck. The top two are clearly The Skipper and The Commodore. While the performers were in the cabin, you consulted with the crew, but the final decision is yours to make. Who receives your con-drag-ulations?
The remainder of the ship decides to have an unconventional materials challenge for their ongoing, bi-monthly drag competition: The Commodore's Drag Race: "-91 091 0091 RA, 1600 160 16- Dec". The Commodore declares that any materials on the ship are fair game (with the exception of pre-made clothing) and the competitors may use their own shoes and wigs. You say, "Ready... go!", and the clock starts counting down, with the crew having only 91 minutes to put their best look together for tonight's runway.
Immediately the crew members who remain in the competition start working on their outfits, scrambling to find the best materials. They rush around and inside the ship, searching for those materials which can best prepare them for the runway presentation. Some rummage through the hold, tossing aside valuable provisions in favor of poor substitutes for 4-way stretch fabric. Others dig through the orlop, the gun deck, and the upper decks, grabbing crates, boxes, and stray objects in the hopes of becoming The Bonnie's Next Drag Superstar.
The 91 minutes pass by in a blur, with competitors sticking mostly to their own work; the queens pause only to discuss their childhood trauma, sharing stories of how their families reacted to the revelation that they were street performers and the struggles that face those in the urban arts these days. A few tears accompany makeup application and final wig placements, and then the outfits are as ready as they'll ever be.
The competitors line up backstage (in The Commodore's quarters) to share their outfits. Even though this is The Commodore's Drag Race, you host and judge the event because The Commodore is very competitive and also loves to serve fish.
"It's been a tight season of The Commodore's Drag Race, and we're down to the top four," you say. "This challenge will determine who among you advances to the final. Category Is: Tunatrocious!"
"First Up! Chuck (The Ball Handler)."
The Ball Handler walks onto the main deck. She is wearing a crop top made of the top half of a keg attached to her shoulders with bootstraps. On her bottom half she wears a wrap skirt made out of the mizzenmast, tied off with a rope belt. She also wears combination fishnets/greaves made out rigging cables and her own ship's boots. The rest of the mizzenmast forms a wig, folded origami-style into the shape of a tuna. In her left hand she rolls around one of her signature balls—this month, she's handling a cannonball in her hand.
"She's not skirting by tonight!" you holler.
"Next Up! Rufus (The Game Player)."
Wearing an impeccable blush made of rust from the anchor, The Game Player stomps onto the deck. Accentuating her face are spiraling earrings made out of the forks from The Commodore's quarters. She walks on in a stunningly revealing outfit, wearing only doubloon pasties with the tiniest scrap of a map in front of her tuck. It's the crucial part of the treasure map with the "X" on it. She turns around to reveal that she's painted her butt cheeks: the left one says "Game" and the right one says "Player". As she exits the deck, she holds up a single playing card. It's the Ace of Tunas.
"X marks the spot!" you call out.
"Next Up! Hop (The Skipper) (Who Moonlights As A Tightrope Walker)!"
The Skipper holds out one arm onto the deck before the rest of her body. She has pulled off and bent metal bars from the brig into a set of chunky bangles. Next her torso and legs enter the deck. On her chest is a harness made out of the straps from the ship's life jacket reserves; she has cut the straps so they read "TUNA" over and over again, in an endless chain of TUNAs. The rest of the jacket she has cut to create strappy leggings the just barely cover her tuck and frame her booty like a jock strap. As her head finally comes through the doorway, the non-competing crew let out a collective gasp. She has whittled a full makuṭa (inspired by her last appointment as a Street Performer in Bangkok) and placed it on her head in lieu of a wig. She walks down the runway with her signature tightrope-style walk, barefoot as always.
"I'm not skipping her tonight!" you shout.
"Finally! The Commodore!"
The commodore makes a grandiose entrance, clad in a stylish and classic trench fashioned from the ships own Jolly Roger. She has added a hand-stitched monogram on the lapel; it reads "TC." The crew cheer out in support.The Commodores tosses aside her trench coat in a single fluid motion to reveal a barnacle-crusted frock crafted from Executive Chef Cookie’s most favorite ornate silk tablecloth. The look is complete with a compass medallion necklace, tall fishnet stockings made from real fishnets, and a positively nautical gunpowder smoky eye. The crew falls into a hushed, awed silence. The Commodore struts down the deck in her very own pleather utility boots. From inside her barnacle bra she pulls ten tuna sushi rolls which she was able to prepare while creating her outfit; she also pulls serving dishes from her boots and passes out the food to the crew members closest to her. She wears her signature Commodore's wig and black tri-corner hat with gold trim.
"And the Caissons keep sushi rolling along!" you joke as The Commodore returns to the cabin and you dig in to the heavenly tuna roll.
This is it. All the performers return to the deck. The top two are clearly The Skipper and The Commodore. While the performers were in the cabin, you consulted with the crew, but the final decision is yours to make. Who receives your con-drag-ulations?