By Shannon Carpenter

’Twas a clear night on the home seas. My crewmates, three kids who believed in their captain, completed their duties. Swab the deck, maty! Stow the shoes! Tie off the yardarm! Seas were tranquil. Until the skies darkened. 

A nor’easter blew in without warning. The gods of the seas are vengeful. 

“Is everything alright?” I asked the storm.

“Yes. Everything is fine,” the storm said, but I sensed an albatross, that omen of a sea bird. The storm was our punishment, yet we had no idea why. 

“Batten down the hatches!” I screamed to my crew. And aye, the crew did as they were told, but a little bit too well. They went to their rooms and closed the doors. I could hear my teenage daughter moving her dresser to block the threshold. Coward. I would face the storm alone. 

“Um, are you sure?” I asked the storm. 

“Yes! Everything is fine!”  

Every experienced captain of a family knows that the storm lies. It deceives you with tranquil waters that churn chaos underneath.

“Are you hungry?” 

The storm crackled and threw out her thunder!  

“No!” The storm said. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I said no!” the storm retorted. “Did you not hear me?” 

“OK, got it.” A captain must learn to abandon hopeless courses, so I changed my heading. 

“Hey, how about we go out tonight?” I shall make an offering to the storm to spare my crew, cowards that they are. 

“Maybe,” the storm said, somewhat mollified. 

“And then we can talk about what has made you so angry?” 

“I said everything is fine!” the storm bellowed, a rogue wave hitting me broadside. 

“I don’t believe you,” I said. “Please, dear storm of the seas, please. Spare me this watery fate that only leads to Davy Jones’s locker!” 

“I had a dream that you bought an old pirate ship and didn’t even talk to me about it.” 

“A dream?” I cautiously inquired. 

“Yes, a dream. I know it doesn’t make sense.” 

“No kidding,” I said, and again, regret became my companion. 

“Don’t you think I know that! Look, everything is fine!” 

’Twas a rough voyage. The crew made it away on a lifeboat to a movie but I could not leave; I would not. A captain goes down with the ship. I tied myself to the mast, otherwise known as the couch, and delved into the depths of the storm’s dream and how wrong I was to buy a pirate ship. Eventually, the storm blew itself out and I brought her nachos. Turns out the storm was very hungry. 

Take heed, fellow mariners, be listening for “Everything is fine,” because when the phrase blows in like a Kraken, everything is not fine; not fine at all. And then I can only wish you Godspeed. Godspeed! 

Shannon Carpenter is a professional humorist and the author of The Ultimate Stay-at-Home Dad: Your Essential Manual for Being an Awesome Full-Time Father.