SAILING IS NOT ROMANTIC, INTERESTING, OR NEARLY AS FUN AS FLYING.
Blobby: Maybe we could pass the time with you apologizing again for being such a butt-brain on the Isle of Detached Shawnimals. And in general.
PF: This is not a desirable proposition.
Roy: But appropriate.
PF: We have been on the currents of Big Blue for some time, 80% of that has been spent apologizing to you three. I believe I have paid my penance to the sorry-Gods.
Moustachia: Not weawy.
PF: Blerg. Where and what is a Blubba anyway? I have run out of ideas on how to summon this beast.
*CRASH!*
Roy: What the…
Blobby: We’re taking on water!
Moustachia: We’w gonna dwown!
PF: What disproportionately adorable last words if so, Moustachia. Freckle-sand, mend our broken hull.
Freckle-sand: Yes, sir!
PF: What have we aground-run into?
Roy: It’s some kind of bulbous, leathery island!
Blobby: Unattractive too.
?: That’s my head, thank you very much. I knew I should have tried a more funky hairstyle. I told the scrumps this one made my head appear bulbous. Bulbous is unfunky to the extreme. Oh dear. Oh darn.
PF: This is a talking island. Perhaps it is a Detached portion of the Isle of the Detached. How anti-anti-social!
?: I am not an island piece. I am a Blubba. Which is to say, my name is Blubba. I’m Blubba.
PF: Our savior! Blubba! Tell us how to get to Professor Island!
Blubba: Well, that shouldn’t be a problem. It should be very simple. I think that finding that place is going to be the easiest thing that has ever happened in Thing History.
PF: Caloo! Discovery!!!
