MOBY-DICK, THE SEQUEL: AHAB’S REHAB SOMEHOW, I, AHAB, SURVIVED THE WRECK. DON’T ASK ME HOW. IT’S ALL A BLUR. A SHIP PICKED ME UP IN THE SUNDA STRAIT. THE CREW SAID THEY SPOTTED ME EASILY; I AM, AFTER ALL, LARGER THAN LIFE. THEY TOLD ME, WHEN I CAME TO MY SENSES, THAT MOBY-DICK WAS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND. YES, OF COURSE I ASKED. I SOUND DIFFERENT, YOU SAY? AYE, I TRY TO SPEAK IN SHORTER SENTENCES NOW. AFTER I WAS RESCUED, I WAS CHARGED WITH THE WILFUL AND RECKLESS ENDANGERMENT OF THE PEQUOD AND ITS CREW. THERE WERE COURT-ORDERED THERAPY SESSIONS. MY THERAPIST TOLD ME RIGHT AWAY THAT I HAD A SEVERE ADDICTION TO MONOLOGUING. SO I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THAT. SHE ALSO TOLD ME TO WATCH SOMETHING CALLED FLEABAG’S BELINDA SPEECH, BUT THAT DIDN’T WORK. I HAD NO IDEA WHAT “GODS AND DEMONS” THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT. SO SHE SENT ME TO A CHILDREN’S PLAY ABOUT MONSTERS. “YOU’LL BE ABLE TO RELATE, SHE SAID. “THEY ARE YOUR KIND.” NOW I HAVE TO ANSWER SOME QUESTIONS ABOUT THAT SHOW. ANCHORS AWEIGH, I SUPPOSE.
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