Three Men in a Boat. To Say Nothing of the T-Killer

Delay at the pond and a bad mood. — A rock concert on the beach. — Comic songs once again. — A shameful escape. — A shop, where you can find the best boating equipment. — Getting ready for the regatta. Our adventurers spent quite a lot of time in these marshy parts. They just couldn't manage to return to civilization any faster and in addiction to that, their optimistic mood had been completely ruined by all the piled up discontent, caused not only by the involuntary bath in the cold water and similar actions. No, the thing was that each one of them suddenly started believing himself to be the only one who was actually doing something and that the others were just lazing around at the expense of his tremendous effort. The B cells had the notion that this musclehead T-Killer wasn't doing anything except for calling them wimps and weaklings. Well, if he was that dang strong, he should just row harder himself! And Dendritic Cell was only operating the tail-mounted rudder and brewing tea during their breaks. Every idiot could do that! The T-Killer, in the meantime, did see the other three as wimps and weaklings and supposed, with reason, as it seemed to him, that they would be absolutely lost without him. And the sad Dendrocyte was thinking that they would have less problems and a way better vacation, if they fought less and instead worked more. He tried to insinuate that fact very carefully, but everyone just snapped at him. Their last morning in the marshy shoulder vein was spent with a quite unpleasant breakfast. All four of them were just chewing in a tense silence, only making clanking sounds with their cups, spoons, and plates. To bring some diversion into that gloomy meal, the B cells decided to take revenge on the T-Killer for that morning bath earlier. They waited until the latter was absentmindedly chewing his food and handed him, instead of a bread slice with jam, a sandwich with a thick layer of mustard and seasoned with chili powder and garlic. But to their disappointment, the T-Killer just ate it without batting an eye and without showing any reaction. As it seemed, special force soldiers like him possessed throats and stomachs made out of steel. The B cells just shrugged and waved it off, silently heading to wash the dishes, everyone their own. Nobody said a word as they gathered their things and continued their trip. Even the T-Killer didn't let out any tirade to everyone's surprise, instead just sitting down and starting to row with all his power, since he wished to leave behind that dreary pond as quickly as possible. Soon, the river became wider and wider and in the distance they spotted a gigantic and quite well maintained beach, full of life. Our travelers, who had missed civilization, were so happy about that they even stopped being sulky with each other and instead made all the efforts to get there as fast as possible. A rock concert was taking place there, performed by the sympathetic nerves. As it turned out later, that concert was part of a music festival, organized by the brain cells' command in order to animate the organism. The performers played cool rhythms, making the crowd cheer and actively move all possible body parts to the music. Our four guys moored their boat nearby and soon joined them. But unlike the rest of the audience, they weren't too thrilled by that concert. Dendritic Cell put one finger into his ear, saying that the music was way too loud, the B cells agreed that the performance was nothing to get excited about and the T-Killer even yawned and commented that this rock music was making him sleepy. After a few songs, it was time for an intermission. The audience headed to the stalls next to the stage, where different types of food were offered, and cunning red blood cells were asking around if someone needed any oxygen, so they could quickly finish their deliveries and hang around a bit more. Dendritic Cell thought that it was just the right moment for a meal and dragged the others to help themselves to it as well. He opted for green tea and tartlets with jam, the B cells went for sandwiches with varied fillings and fruit cocktails, and the T-Killer preferred a juicy rare steak and a cold ale. As everyone was already finishing their sandwiches and other treats, the nerves returned to the stage and started to prepare themselves, discussing their repertoire for the last time. They decided to shorten one of the songs a bit and replace a second one with a third, since it was more suitable for the situation... but while doing that, they got distracted by what was happening right before the stage: first, the B Lymphocyte said that he didn't really want to stay to hear the second part of the concert, since it was, well, not that great. And then he began a rant, directed at them and the cells gathering around him to listen, about why it wasn't that great in his opinion and that there was actually nothing good about that performance that he considered quite amateurish. All that critique made the nerves quickly lose their nerves, and they ironically suggested him to perform something himself. Without any timidness, he contently entered the stage and announced that he would sing comic songs. After having waited until Memory Cell went for his guitar, he assured that he didn't need any accompaniment, but if the nerves insisted, they could do it like this and that. Naturally, you didn't really need to have a good singing voice for comic songs, and nobody expected any correct phrasing or perfect vocalization from him. They would have even forgiven him for missing every note and not bothering about time. Even if he had sung something that didn't match the accompaniment at all, they wouldn't have minded! But after hearing the term comic songs, they did expect funny words, as it implied a text filled with humor. So everyone hoped to enjoy themselves, and to not just laugh about absurdities, but to also hear some witty gags. However, as soon as the B Lymphocyte started playing his guitar and opened his mouth, his companions heard a tune they already knew. "I washed the bureau's windows, and doors too, nice and clean, and there, to my big distress, appeared the Basophil! He came when I was lunching, With his nonsense I was filled, So on my pants, while munching, My compote I had spilled." "Huh? Wasn't there something with a bucket?" asked Dendritic Cell, scratching his head. "He loves to improvise," explained Memory Cell. As a reaction to that silliness, a few started giggling and others waved their hands to show him that they had enough. But the B Lymphocyte didn't stop and continued his comic songs, making fun of the Basophil, his grandma, and even his umbrella, until he perceived the following displeased words coming from the audience: "Cease, you imprudent fool! How dare you chant such outrageous insinuations about the lonely wanderer, who walks along the edge of the abyss in the eternal night without fear?" And right after them, an umbrella came flying towards the B Lymphocyte, destroying each one of his guitar's strings. His and his companion's gazes now met a pair of fiercely glowing eyes under a mask, immediately making them think that they had never seen the Basophil being furious before. His rage couldn't be compared with the Mast Cell during her hysterics, of course, but the B Lymphocyte's instinct of self-preservation told him that it was time to leg it, before something a bit heavier than the umbrella could be thrown at him. He yelled: "Thanks for your attention!" and hurried to get out of there, under the audience's approving laughter. His companions stormed off after him, right towards the boat. Dendritic Cell managed to notice from the corner of his eye that the Basophil wanted to run after them, but was held back by a cell in a pink uniform. Eosinophil was foresightful as always. After having quickly cast off and distanced themselves until they were safe, our four guys sighed with relief. The Dendrocyte was glad that, at least, nobody had thrown any rotten tomatoes or other disgusting things at them. In the meantime, the B Lymphocyte was complaining about the ripped strings on his guitar, Memory Cell murmuring that he would remember that day forever, and the T-Killer silently rejoicing about the fact that he would be spared from these horrible comic songs for quite some time. Until the B Lymphocyte would find new strings, at the very least. * * * On their way to the elbow, they finally stumbled over a shop for household items. And not only ordinary household items, but also the best boating equipment, judging by the sign hanging on its wall. Not to mention the other, absolutely fantastic assortment! But to the B Lymphocyte's huge disappointment, that fantastically gigantic assortment didn't include guitar string, but instead they discovered a bunch of different fishing equipment: the latest models of fishing rods and scoop nets, ropes, sailcloth and other very useful stuff for boat adventures. There was no doubt that they would find there everything they needed for the upgrade of theirs. Hearing that the guys wanted to participate in the regatta, the vendor started to grin and then told them to their joy that his shop offered everything necessary to turn every old wreck into a boat suitable for competitions. Well, he didn't exactly use the words "suitable to win", it was just that the customers often took their own wishes for reality. However, the bigger their wishes were, the better was the quality he offered them. That wasn't material for pitiful amateurs, but the one true professionals were using. And the B Lymphocyte, as an experienced engineer, should perfectly know that it wasn't wise to be too stingy with good material that was worth its price. The vendor started hoaxing him and the other three so skillfully, presenting them an ordinary sailcloth as a reinforced one for elites, that the B Lymphocyte would have been left completely bankrupt, if it wasn't for Dendritic Cell. The B Lymphocyte (who didn't want to show his incompetence regarding the selection of high-quality equipment and was always agreeing with the vendor) began to protest first, when he was led aside by his friend, but the other assured him that he didn't have any doubt in him having a good knowledge about the material, but he preferred to bargain over it himself, if he didn't mind. Seeing the slyness in Dendritic Cell's eyes, he didn't have any other choice than to agree that bargaining was necessary after all. So every time he opened his mouth to confirm that he was perfectly seeing the excellent quality of the merchandise, the Dendrocyte was slamming his elbow into the his side, and they both started questioning the vendor's words, exasperating the latter and forcing him to bargain to his own detriment. That way, they managed to get everything they needed for a fairly decent price, and hurried to load it all into the boat. However, as they were leaving the shop, they met an experienced boatman, who wanted to know what they were planning to do with all that stuff, and immediately started giving advice no one asked him for. "If the wind gets too fresh," he instructed them. "Better take a reef and luff sharp when you get round the bend." Our four guys promised him to do exactly as told, just to get rid of him as soon as possible, and cheerfully said goodbye, wondering to themselves, what "luffing sharp" meant and where they could get a "reef" from, and what they were to do with it if they somehow managed to get it. Actually, they had unintentionally started feeling like pitiful amateurs after having visited that shop, and were doubting now, whether it was really such a good idea to participate in a competition. * * * After their shopping trip, our cellular adventurers found a comfortable place, laid out their purchase and started upgrading their boat. More precisely, the B Lymphocyte started upgrading it, and the others tried to help him with whatever they could, or better said, rather getting in his way than really helping. Before turning the boat into a sporting model and upgrading it to the max, he decided to go for the minimum first and try it out, in order to see how many improvements it could bear. He made a mast of an optimal size, to which additional sails could be put up when needed. But one single square one would be enough for now. Dendritic Cell helped him to produce it and when it was ready, they somehow got the fantastic idea to ask the T-Killer to help them to set it up. And the latter immediately attempted to put it up upside-down. "Here's the top and here's the bottom," explained the B Lymphocyte, indicating the sides with his finger. "It's not that hard, isn't it?" "Yeah, they're impossible to mix up," agreed the T-Killer and positioned the sail upside-down again. The B Lymphocyte facepalmed and said that he would do everything himself. That work required a bit more time than he thought, but he wanted to make everything right from the start, as it would be quite difficult to remodel everything later. He controlled several times if the mast was well fixed, if it was able to bear the weight, if the sail was set up correctly, if it could be hoisted and struck without problems and other things. Only after having made sure that everything was alright, they picked up the rest of their material, got into the boat and started trying out the new sail. The first result wasn't that great, but then they gradually got used to controlling it and to correctly catching the wind into it, while the Dendrocyte was learning to operate the rudder in that new, difficult situation. Soon they already were sailing so perfectly with the wind that they started secretly mocking that way too clever boatman, who had wanted to make them believe that using a sail was something very complicated and needed a lot of practice and skill. Yes, everything went absolutely great, and they enjoyed their trip until the next resting place, where the B Lymphocyte planned to continue upgrading the boat to make it even faster, since perfection wasn't yet reached. The other three solemnly promised to not disturb him and go fishing instead. * * * And while the B Lymphocyte was plugging away at the upgrade of the boat's sail area, even refusing a break to eat something, the others decided to discuss the crazy idea of participating in the regatta once again. Despite all the upgrades and the experience they managed to gather already, Dendritic Cell wasn't very thrilled about that participation. And Memory Cell and the T-Killer neither. But the B Lymphocyte convinced them again that everything would be going smoothly. He, a qualified engineer, was guaranteeing it, after all. And after he had put his ingenious hands to good use once again and upgraded the sail area, his companions practically lost all their doubts. He assured them that the mast would endure everything, that the stability of the boat itself was more than encouraging, and that the draft was within the normal range. "Our boat will fly like... well, just fly!" he assured. "Not apart, I expect," sighed the Dendrocyte, sincerely hoping that the old thing wouldn't fall into little pieces. "Everything will be perfect!" "Sure." "Thanks to my brilliant construction." "Suuure," repeated Dendritic Cell, looking at his friend's wonder of engineering, that had been put up by the latter with Memory Cell's help, proudly towering over the boat. Alright then, it seemed that their participation in the regatta was unavoidable now.