Board Thread:Off-Topic Discussion/@comment-28009263-20170702193612/@comment-29637681-20171022171417

Adder takes a swig of the rum. “What is this?”

Ishmael snorts. “Cactus juice, mixed with currants, grapes, and Electrophorus blood.”

Immediately Adder freezes up. His eye twitches and for whatever reason makes a fart noise. Then—

“UUUUAAAAAAAAAUUUGHHHHHHHH!”

He jumps off the boat again and flings himself back onto the deck once more. Where he landed, the rum can be seen in his bile, as well as at least twenty-five dead fish.

“Why must I always get the bad luck?”