Captain Tenebrio Molitor made his way across the deck, double-checking the efforts of his crew. They were a novice crew and knew little of the affairs of the sea. Despite this, their Admiralty had made its inexplicable decision and the crew was promptly dumped onto the ship, Endeavor.
The Captain approaches his Executive Officer, expecting the news of the day. "How goes it?" Molitor asks.
The XO laughs. "They learn quick. Blocks and tackles are being blocked and tackled, the sails are set, the lines are taught and slack as needed. Everything is working as it should, Captain."
Molitor frowns. He knows the XO is hiding something. "What is it? Be honest. I am no tyrant."
"Well, sir, we seem to be going nowhere."
A laugh. Molitor nods in acknowledgment and peers over the side of the ship to the sea below. "Yes, well, the waters are unusually calm." The Captain continues his examination up to the sails. "And the winds seem to be still. Are we in doldrums?"
"It's possible, sir. The weather is strange here, and the sky..." There is fear in the XO's voice.
The XO shakes his head. Perhaps it is nothing. "The sky is filled with strange things."
Almost in confirmation of the XO's concerns, a peculiarity occurs. In the clear glass sky, something blocks out the light. A giant shape eclipses the heavens beyond and, eerily, two large eyes appear out of nowhere.
"What the Hell?" Jonathan's temper isn't usually a problem, but what he stares at sends a rush of anger through his bones. As if in disbelief, he turns to check a bowl behind him. A bowl that usually has dozens of his son's pet mealworms, living in relative bliss as they burrow, sleep, and feed upon their bed of oatmeal. A bowl that is currently empty.
Jonathan blinks, and turns back to his beloved ship-in-a-bottle, now crawling with those same mealworms, seemingly afloat on a sea of Quaker Oats.
"Kevin!" he screams. "Get your butt up here, now!"
Tenebrio Molitor looks to his Executive Officer. "I guess our voyage is over."
His XO smiles, then glances at the cork snugly placed in the mouth of their bottled world. "Good thing, too. We probably don't have a lot of oxygen left."