The Inland Sea

Right on sunset one evening, the river we were following opened out into a wide expanse of water, undoubtedly an inland sea. We all solemnly shook hands and congratulated ourselves on our determination and foresight.

We were lucky. Archie's diet hadn't worked out and we had survived on wild mushrooms and tubers. We were feeling quite delirious and hadn't been sleeping well – probably cheese withdrawals.

As the sun set further we glimpsed in the distance a village floating on the inland sea. This was likely a mirage or an optical illusion. Tired

from our bridge-building journey, we decided to rest on the shore for a while and play acid jazz on the piano. It sounded great.

We were just thinking about water transport to cross the inland sea, when out of the blue a native man in an elegant rowboat pulled up on the shore.

As we were likely the first westerners he had encountered, we took the usual precautions and communicated with him via interpretive dance, with a piano accompaniment in C sharp.

He understood our dance and agreed to transport us across the inland sea. Sadly, his boat wasn't big enough for the camels, and since they don't like salt water, we waved them goodbye and sent them off in a southerly direction with the piano.

The boatman was in no hurry and casually rowed us out into the open sea. After a while the mirage of the floating village returned, and we seemed to be headed straight for it, along with many other identical rowboats, with villagers dressed just like our pilot.

Fearing a trap, or another marriage, we demanded to be taken to their leader, hoping he would know the King of Rome. The boatman nodded and smiled and rowed us down a narrow canal, where we were seized by invisible hands and thrown into the lunatic asylum.