What Do We Do With Two Drunken O.C.s?

"Dear sweet bumblefucking Celestia, I think I ruptured my eye-brain thingy."

These were the very first words that came to Skie's mind as he opened his eyes and looked up at the scorching orb of sunlight above. He had woken up gazing at the blinding light many a day; and each time it got no better. For some reason, every time he regained consciousness he managed to stare straight into the sun.

'And every time, Ol' Celly herself comes and personally shoves a rusty shiv-blade in my eye sockets. Whee.' He thought, pulling his blanket back up over himself. He was just gonna roll back over onto his unusually short and firm mattress, let himself soak in the rancid saltwater for a moment, and enjoy as the slow rocking put him back to sleep. The thought crossed his mind for a moment that something might be wrong, but he dismissed it with another. 'It can wait until, say, noon or so.'

His mind sparked at the taste of brine as he drifted back into unconsciousness. Around him, all he heard was the lapping of waves, obviously from his Jacuzzi that he had left on the night before. Having no recollection, he was sure it had been awesome. The only thing he couldn't explain was the wind. There were no open-able windows in his apartment, and he had self-closing doors. It smelled like salt, too. It was as if he was still on the boat from last night's-

"OH FUCK!" He screamed, hurting his own ears in the process.

'Oh, shitohshitohshitohshit-' He hurriedly sat up from his prone position, causing his "bed" to rock back and forth like a crib. His brain went into panic mode. Around him, instead of his architecturally awesome Manehattan apartment, there was a wide open expanse of blue that seemed to stretch for miles and miles until it met the horizon. His "blanket" was in fact his spare sail, and the "bed" was in fact his motherfucking sailboat.