The ship smashed against the rocks. Severed

The ship smashed against the rocks. Severed heads rolled out of the chest. This is where the captain has been hiding his friends. I took the torch and waved it at

the hands crawling toward me, dragging dead arms scraping the decks with their bejeweled bracers. The heads began to move their jaws but only those with teeth could scrape forward

- gently removing the barnacles from Queen Elizabeth II. No, not the boat - the monarch. She's holding up quite well, considering, but her fossilization process is proceeding quite

apace. You see, the government uses the cold salt water of the North Sea to keep the sovereign's body from decaying. But the lack of a proper burial disturbed the Archbishop.

You see when the cold salt water evaporated, the stench of rotting flesh from beneath the porch was not appealing to the archbishop. But it did help him to acheive

ascension to the great beyond. His disapproval at finding the dead bodies under the porch forced my hand; I grabbed the nearest object and

lubrication. Everyone knows what an improperly lubricated remote control does to your

undercarriage. I had sprayed the underside with all sorts of cleansers attempting to remove the "barnacles," to no avail. Then, I discovered the solution:

alcohol, which solves most solutions. Just rub it all over the "barnacles" and watch them drop off. Then you can drink what is left and celebrate cleaning them off the boat.