Chapter Text
What would you do the day after nearly being arrested for murdering your boss?
Answer it, in your mind or out loud, I don't care. Or in the comments, if that's a thing.
If you said "film it", you're an idiot. So's Marley.
Brighton Early is a frequent guest at the Sea Chantey. The one who sets fires? He also tends to fly down the hallways spinning in circles and shouting about Brexit. He's also a robot prone to wild mood swings. But, you know the Sea Chantey's motto: "We Shall Never Deny a Guest, Even The Most Ridiculous Guest"
Each time he visits, he brings one humongous suitcase which he never actually opens. Out of curiosity once, Claire and Cameron opened his suitcase to see what was inside.
Its contents? Ten saxophones! That's it! Not even a toothbrush!
After a recent demographics report on all the Sea Chantey guests for the past fiscal year, it turns out Brighton Early was the only person who ever had a return visit to the hotel. And a quick review of all the other reports from previous years shows the same thing. Sea Chantey has a very very low retention rate.
And don't worry, the demographics report on Sea Chantey employees is coming in the next chapter.
Baxter gathered everyone in the conference room by taking an Indiana Jones whip and snapping it in the direction everyone was walking, forcing them to flee the other way until he got them going in the direction of the conference room. Instead of like, just telling them.
Once everyone was in a chair, Monaco slammed a giant gavel to shut them all up. She waved the report in the air, far too small for anyone to see. "Once again, our yearly Guest Demographics report is in. And it's not good."
"We had too many Filipinos again, didn't we?" Brock guessed.
"No. Well," Monaco flipped the report and looked it over, "Yes. But that's not why I called you here. This year, we had a startlingly low number of repeat guests. Guests who have been here before, and come back for a second stay. We didn't meet the General Occupational North American Demographic Specifications, or GONADS, requirements this year. Normally we can get away with one infraction, but this year we also had an unacceptably low number of pole vaulters as our guests. So we have to either bring in more repeat guests, or more pole vaulters. Otherwise, we're shut down." Fear flashed across her eyes, like prey catching the eye of a wolf on the hunt, or like a house cat when a stranger tries to pet it.
Nobody else looked scared, but they should be.
"So, let's brainstorm some ideas about how we can increase diversity at the Sea Chantey, specifically pro- pole vaulters and anti-Fillipinos."
"That sounded a little racist." Marley said.
"I'm not racist." Monaco dismissed.
"I'm just saying, that's how it came off."
"It was not intended to be racist. It's just a fact."
"I'm just saying, that's what it sounded like."
"I'm NOT racist! Why do you white people always have to make everything about race!?" Monaco snapped.
Marley considered this. "You're on a slippery slope."
"Please, someone think of a way to draw in more repeat guests or pole vaulters. Please say something before I hit her." Monaco placed her hands on the table and avoided eye contact with Marley.
Which of course, is what Marley wanted this whole time. She feeds on the mayhem she causes. Why does everyone keep falling for it?
"Ideas? Anyone? How do we bring diversity to our hotel?"
Kyle slapped a square of wrapped cheese on the table. "We could give them this."
"That's not enticing enough." Monaco said.
"I could put butter on it."
"That's worse. Any other ideas? Anyone?" Monaco was greeted with silence. "Please tell me it's not just that one idea."
Marley raised her hand.
"You can just talk, you don't have to raise your hand."
"How about building a giant person-magnet?" She offered.
"Remember when that went poorly?" Claire pointed out. Marley has tried this before. And trust me, she'll try it again.
"Okay, how about we make a bunch of flyers advertising discounts to repeat guests and drop them out of an airplane flying low over a large city."
"I see a few problems." Monaco said. "And we're not giving discounts."
"Fine, what about a commercial? Repeat guests get a room one floor higher than they had last time, and cheese."
"With butter." Kyle pitched in.
"With butter!" Marley got excited.
"No butter!" Monaco shouted.
Everyone was disappointed.
"Please, any other ideas?"
Brock raised his hand.
"You can just talk!"
Brock brought his arm back down. "Oh sorry, I was just stretching."
"Who stretches like that?"
"Pole vaulters."
"Brock… do you pole vault?" Monaco asked.
"Did a little in high school. Still go out for drinks with my teammates sometimes."
"Teammates?"
"Yeah, the synchronized pole vaulting team. We were the Brownsfield Bitches. Go Bitches!"
"Call your teammates and get them to visit you here, and make sure they book a room too."
"And I can still do my commercial right?" Marley asked.
"Fine, but you have no budget."
~//~
"Found it!" Marley shouted, because everything that led to her finding an old video camera in the basement is unimportant.
"Should we use these tapes?" Claire and Cameron had found a box of old VHS tapes, some of which were absolute trash and could be recorded over, and some of which were absolute gold.
"Pop one in, let's give it a try." Marley said.
Cameron pulled a VHS out of a box labeled "Waterworld".
"Yes, that's can absolutely be recorded over. Sauce me another one."
"That's never going to catch on." Claire said.
Cameron handed her another tape, from a box labelled "Wheelie and the Chopper Bunch".
"NO! You can't tape over that! That is absolute gold in animation, plot structure and character development, therefore should be saved in pristine condition, untouched and unwatched."
Cameron put it back in its water-damaged box and Marley slapped Waterworld into place. She pressed record and raised the camera to Cameron, which I'm just realizing sounds a lot like camera.
"What do you love best about our Sea Chantey guests?" Marley prompted.
"Christmas!"
"Perfect. While Brock is out phoning his junior high friends, we're gonna make a commercial." Marley closed it and bounded up the stairs to interview more people.
~//~
Jay nestled the tripod legs into the sand and checked the bubble level. The beach was slanted down to the right, so jay made sure the bubble was all the way to the left. That's how that works, right?
Jay had been roped into being Marley's personal camera operator for the day.
"Action!" Marley shouted.
Jay quickly pressed record, which you're supposed to do before saying "action". The camera was pointed squarely at Perry's knees.
"Wilson Perry, what do you love most about your guests, here at the Sea Chantey?" Marley asked in a reporter voice, pointing frantically off-camera to the cue card Cameron was holding up. Inconspicuously, it said "REPEAT GUESTS AND POLE VAULTERS"
"I love each and every guest that sets foot in this door. We especially welcome returning guests. Our five-star buffet is truly one of a kind, our luxurious swimming pool crystal clear, and our rooms are meticulously made each morning by our hardworking maid staff." Which, paradoxically, is something you wouldn't expect Perry to say, but if you heard it and had to guess who said it, you certainly wouldn't guess any other character here.
"What about your engineer?"
"Don't push it."
"Cut! Very good, let's wrap it and use it, guys!" Which isn't a showbiz saying at all.
"Dunk!" Brock called from a distance. Thinking it was a command, Jay grabbed the nearest basketball and slam-dunked it right into the ground, not through any hoop or nothing.
~//~
"How do you like your job?" Marley asked Claire in her reporter voice as the camera rolled.
"Oh, I loooove everyone here. This place is greeeeat. I get to moppppp, and sweeeeeeep the flooooors."
"Stop talking like that."
"Like thiiiiiiis?"
"Yes, stop it."
"Okaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."
"DUNK" Brock called again. In the distance, Jay could be heard slamming a basketball again.
"Use some adjectives. Describe the Sea Chantey Resort." Marley tried to get Claire back on track.
"That's what we're calling it now? Okay. Adjectives. Well, I actually do love this rat-infested, black-mold-condemned, physically questionable excuse for a building. And every day I get to work with an exceptional group of people who have managed to slip through the insane asylum's filters. I wouldn't quite say they check all the "insane" boxes enough to get put in an asylum, but they all do exhibit behaviors that would get them locked away, if diagnostic medicine could put words to what they are. Is that enough adjectives?"
"Cut."
~//~
Jay positioned the camera again, this time at the subject's ears. He was learning a lot today.
"You sir, what do you love about the Sea Chantey Hotel, Resort, and Spa?" Marley asked.
"Food's good, I guess. I'm definitely more of a meat-eater, and everything in the buffet seems to be made of meat. It's creative."
"DUNK!" Brock yelled.
Jay, at a loss for basketballs, felt the compelling urge to follow the command. He searched frantically.
"What is it, boy?" Marley asked.
"I need something round! Quickly!"
The man being interviewed reached into his suitcase and pulled out a human brain, a pole vaulting stick (which I guess is the pole), two mismatched shoestrings, and a human heart. "Will any of these work?"
Jay grabbed the heart and spiked it onto the ground. It hit the pavement and exploded like a red water balloon.
"DUNCAN!" Brock called again, running up to them. "There you are! Been looking all over for you, man. Guys, this is Duncan, one of my Synchronized Pole Vaulting buddies from elementary school!"
"You weren't telling me to dunk a basketball?" Jay asked, his skin gleaming with sweat and his loose jersey fluttering in the wind. He paced in his Air Jordans, trying to cool down. Although, looking less like Michael Jordan and more like half of a Richard Simmons.
"Dude, whose heart was that?" Brock stepped in the blood on accident. "Is it real?"
"Of course it's not real, look how bright red it is!" Claire, who clearly knows everything, said. "It's red paint! Blood isn't that red!"
Well, Marley, who's seen regular oxygen-rich arterial blood before and not just dark blood on TV, knows real blood can be so bright red at times it almost seems to glow, and YouTube commenters ain't shit.
Blood can be bright. Blood can be dark. I swear to god as an EMT, some blood almost glows. Youtube Commenters Ain't Shit. Grow up already. TV shows aren't real.
Anyway.
"Uhh yeah, it was this guy right here." The man Marley was interviewing, Duncan, pulled Perry's head out of the bag. Brain removed. His British/Jamaican accent sorta made it seem like that was oddly okay, though.
"You… killed our boss?"
"Sorry, I was told specifically not to, and it's a running joke among us pole vaulters that we do what the other says not to do. For example, I tell Brock not to kill my mum in seventh grade. You know what this wanker does?"
"He killed your mom?" Marley guessed lamely, kicking at the sand, pretty bored.
"Brilliant!"
Monaco, however, was very pleased that the pole vaulter box was checked. "That was brilliant, Duncan! So brilliant, in fact, I'd offer you a job if we weren't already at capacity. We could use a man with ridiculously low morals and a knack for spontaneous murder like yourself."
"Done, where do I sign?"
"Haha, good one!"
"I'm not joking mate, I'd love to join your team! Brock here says you're a bit busy, maybe another set of hands could help kill your boss. I mean, wash… dishes."
Everyone paused.
"Oh, so you're like, already in on it." Marley concluded.
Duncan cringed. "Is that bad?"
Brock chimed in. "We could really use this guy on our side. I've known him since we were little league pole-vaulters in pre-K. Plus we already have no moral objection to hiring people even though that makes them basically prisoners here. We hired Jay."
"Wait, what?"
"OOOH, you get to learn about the cuss!" Marley clapped.
"Prisoner?"
"Welcome to the team, Duncan. I'm Monaco, this is Baxter, Claire, Cameron, Marley, Jay, you already know Brock, and Kyle. There's some kitchen staff too, and you're holding Perry."
"Alright, then. When should I start?"
Everyone laughed. What a jolly old time! Just friends being prisoners. Together. <3
"Duncan, I didn't catch your last name by the way." Monaco said.
"Oh, it's Dammits."
"Dammit?" Marley repeated.
"With an S. Dammits."
"Duncan Dammits?"
"Don't wear it out!"
"Oh, we will." Marley laughed.
18. Beheaded Basketball