Existential Crisis

“En garde!” Pirate Captain Von Trout shouted, swinging his sword at swashbuckling Pete’s head. The glinting metal sliced through the air, about to make contact with poor Pete’s unguarded neck, when all of a sudden, everything froze. The seagulls flapping their way over the ocean halted mid-flap, the salty breeze ceased, and the sword stopped dead in its path, as if the air itself had congealed and trapped everything in its gelatinous cross-section.

Captain Von Trout’s eyes swiveled back and forth in their sockets, looking for the source of this inexplicable phenomenon. Everything appeared to be normal, except, of course, for the fact that none of it was moving.

“What’s happening?” Pete rasped out of the corner of his mouth — he found it impossible to open it much wider.

“I don’t know,” Captain Von Trout groaned back, “This is completely new to me.”

“I’m going to try to move,” Pete said, and then he let out a series of strained grunts and groans. “Did that work?”

Captain Von Trout tried to shake his head, but couldn’t. “No,” he muttered.

Pete sighed in resignation. “Is this some sort of trap?” Pete asked. “Did you cast some sort of magical spell on me?”

Captain Von Trout rolled his eyes. “If this were my trap, why would I be stuck in it too?’’

Pete thought about this. “Good point.”

A few moments of unnaturally silent silence passed between them. “I’m going to try to move again,” Pete said, and the captain sighed.

“What makes you think it’s going to work this time?’’ he asked.

“I’ve built up my strength,” Pete replied, and again commenced with the guttural grumbles. After a few seconds, he let out a victorious bark of a laugh. Or, what would have been a bark of a laugh if he could open his mouth more than a few centimeters. “I did it!” Pete exclaimed. “I moved!”

“You did not,” Captain Von Trout admonished.

“I did!”

“I’ve been watching you this whole time. You haven’t moved an inch.”

“I know what I felt!”

The men lapsed into silence. The captain started to notice the vaguest feeling on the tip of his nose, like an itch. He tried to wiggle it. Nothing. Tried to bring his finger up to scratch. Nope. While nothing else moved, the itching sensation grew.

“I’ve got an itch on my nose,” he mumbled.

“Well I’m not getting it for you,” Pete remarked.

“Of course you’re not, you idiot! Neither of us can move!” He supposed this outburst would have been more powerful if it had actually sounded like an outburst, rather than the squeaking of a mouse.

Why couldn’t they move? Why had the entire world stopped dead in its tracks? The captain could think of no logical reason. Granted, he was not the most learned fellow, but logic said that the world does not simply stop spinning of its own accord. He had heard tales of fantastical magic, witches and wizards who could do unthinkable things to upset the balance of nature, but turn off the world? He didn’t even think the most powerful sorcerer would be capable of a feat like that. Was God angry with him? Was this punishment for being a pirate? It wasn’t the most respectable of jobs, but in comparison he was a rather tame pirate. He didn’t plunder as thoroughly as most of his peers, or drink as heartily, or steal as much. He could think of a few pirates who deserve this living purgatory much more than he did.

Pete interrupted the captain’s thoughts. “How long have we been standing here?”

The captain sighed in frustration. “I don’t know. Let me just check my pocket watch!” His roar was muted to a meow as he had to speak out of the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t like you when you’re angry,” Pete lamented quietly.

“Have you ever liked me?” The captain queried. “We’ve been mortal enemies for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s the thing I don’t understand,” Pete muttered. “Why are we mortal enemies? What did I do to you?”

“Don’t you remember? You-” Captain Von Trout stopped. He couldn’t seem to recall what had caused the epic feud that existed between them. He couldn’t even remember what, if anything, had led up to the suspended duel they were currently in the middle of. Their battle against each other had always been common knowledge, unquestioned by either of them.

“See?” Pete said. Captain Von Trout was convinced that there would be a smug smirk on Pete’s face if he could move. “You don’t even know why we hate each other.”

“I just hate you. Isn’t that enough?”

‘’No.”

Captain Von Trout grunted, “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, if we’re going to be stuck like this for a while, we might as well work through our issues.”

“I don’t want to work through anything. And who says we’re going to be stuck like this for a while?”

“I’m just assuming,” Pete countered.

“Well you know what they say about assuming. It makes an-”

“Why are you such a grumpy little Pirate Captain?” Pete interrupted. “Did your father not love you enough when you were a child?”

“I swear to everything that is holy, if you say another word-”

“I’m only trying to figure you out,” Pete cut in again.

“Well stop!” the captain cried.

Under his frozen composure, Captain Von Trout was fuming. It wasn’t bad enough that he was stuck in this situation, but he had to be stuck in it with philosophical Pete. It didn’t matter that their feud was completely unfounded; Captain Von Trout vowed to himself that the minute he became unfrozen, he’d cut Pete to ribbons.

The faint tune of a drinking song floated through the thick air to the captain’s ears. “Are you…humming?” he asked.

“I tried whistling, but I couldn’t,” Pete responded, jumping back into humming the song.

“Stop.”

“Make me.”

Captain Von Trout blinked slowly, trying to reign in his aggression. He was convinced that if he could do nothing to let it out, he’d explode like a dozen barrels of gunpowder.

“Pete?” The captain muttered, but Pete was too engrossed in humming to hear him. “Pete?” Captain Von Trout repeated, a little louder this time.

“Yes, Cap’n?”

“If I talk to you, will you stop humming?”

Pete weighed this offer in his mind. “I suppose. What do you want to talk about?”

“Idon’t know; you’re the one who wanted to talk!”

Pete chuckled. “That’s right, I did. So Cap…tell me about your childhood.”

Captain Von Trout scoffed. “I’m not going to talk to you about my childhood.”

“Suit yourself,” Pete replied, and used his restrained voice to sing off-key and probably the incorrect lyrics. Captain Von Trout could tell Pete was relishing the power he now held over him. Perhaps with a little too much relish.

“All right, all right, fine,” the captain sighed. Pete promptly halted his horrific singing. “I was born in a little fishing village called Southend.”

“So was I!” Pete interrupted. “My father was a fisherman.”

Captain Von Trout rolled his eyes before murmuring begrudgingly, “Mine too. But he left one day on the fishing boat and never returned. Probably ran into a storm and drowned.”

“My father was killed by pirates,” Pete added. “Hey! Perhaps you-”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” Captain Von Trout preempted.

Pete chortled. “Really? How can you call yourself a pirate captain if you’ve never killed anyone?” he taunted. “I thought that was a required rite of passage. Kill a fisherman and you can join the pirate crew.”

“You clearly know nothing about pirates,” the captain muttered. He was growing weary of this conversation. It was true: he wasn’t much of a pirate at all. But he didn’t need his mortal enemy to point that out. Maybe he was wrong — maybe this wasn’t a punishment for being a pirate, but for being a bad pirate. His sentence for not trying hard enough was eternity listening to a babbling idiot.

“You know, if you think about it, we have a lot in common,” Pete began pensively. “We’re from the same village, our fathers both died…Maybe we should join forces instead of fighting each other.”

Captain Von Trout refused to respond.

“Or not,” Pete continued. “It was only a suggestion.”

Pete apparently ran out of things to talk about, and the almost unbearable silence began again. As a pirate, Captain Von Trout was used to the sounds of the sea, but even the ocean waves had halted and he was starting to feel uneasy.

“Don’t you think it should be getting dark by now?” Pete asked, breaking the silence. “We’ve been out here for a while.”

“It’s like time has completely stopped,” Captain Von Trout said.

After a brief pause, Pete replied, “Well I don’t like it.”

Captain Von Trout noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere, like the thick air was thinning, and then, just as suddenly as the world had turned off, it turned back on. Both men plummeted to the ship’s deck, temporarily disoriented by the feeling of movement. The ship rocked with the waves and the seagulls cried from high above.

The captain rolled across the deck before finally coming to his senses and pulling himself onto his unsteady legs, searching for Pete and ready to make good on his promise to kill him and become a better pirate. As he lurched across the desk, though, he bumped into an unfamiliar figure. Staggering away, Captain Von Trout saw that there was a third man on deck: one dressed in a dark suit and completely steady despite the roiling ocean current.

“Who are you?” Captain Von Trout cried. “And what are you doing on my ship?”

Pete poked his head out from behind a barrel. “Who are you talking to, Cap-” He caught sight of the stranger. “Oh…hello!”

The strange man removed his spectacles, rubbed them against his jacket sleeve, and then replaced them on his face before speaking. “You may call me Johnson. I’m here to tell you both something that may come as quite a shock.”

Captain Von Trout and Pete exchanged wary glances. They’d already been through quite a shock — what more could this unusual man tell them?

“You gentlemen may want to sit down,” Johnson said. Captain Von Trout led the way into his cabin, where each man perched himself on a chair expectantly. Surveying his surroundings distastefully, Johnson cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how to tell you folks this, so I might as well just let it out. You’re in a movie.”

Captain Von Trout was stunned into silence. Pete, on the other hand, was not. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Pete stuttered.”We’re what?”

“You two are characters in a swashbuckling action movie,” Johnson explained. ‘’Not a very good swashbuckling action movie, by the looks of it. The family that was just watching the movie paused it and removed it from their DVD player. It appears unlikely that they’re ever going to resume.”

Captain Von Trout took a deep breath and swallowed the uncertainty in his throat. “So what happens to us?” He ventured. Johnson shrugged.

“Whatever you want,” he answered. “You are free agents now. I was simply sent here to inform you that you are no longer bound to this movie.”

With that proclamation, Johnson stood, brushed off his immaculate suit, and left the cabin without another word. Pete turned to Captain Von Trout, his mouth hanging open in a shocked gape.

“He said we’re only characters,” Pete drawled slowly. “Does that mean…we’re not real?”

The captain shrugged and poked himself in the thigh for good measure. “I feel real. Do you feel real?”

Pete poked himself too. “Yes.”

“Then I suppose we’re real.”

“So what do we do now?” Pete continued slowly, as if exhausted with the possibility of making a decision.

“I don’t know,” the captain replied truthfully. “All my life I’ve been a pirate. Not a very good pirate, I’ll admit. But I don’t see how I could ever do anything else.”

“And all my life I’ve been fighting you,” Pete said, looking down at his fingers. “I kind of liked that. At least it was…” he trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Consistent?” Captain Von Trout supplied. “Yeah.”

The captain lapsed into thought. Now it all made sense: why he didn’t see the point of pirating, why his battle with Pete seemed unfounded. It was all divined for him by a group of people in a movie studio. His entire existence, as well as all of the choices he thought he’d made, had been decided for him.

Maybe this was his chance to find something he actually wanted to do, something he was actually good at. He could explore the world, learn things, meet new people, rather than spending his days battling with a foe who, as it turns out, wasn’t very foe-worthy after all.

He stood and peered out of the porthole. The vast ocean spread out before him in every direction, meeting the sky at a horizon he longed to reach. He didn’t know what, if anything, would be there when he met it, but the journey was half the fun. He was a free man now: free from expectations, responsibility, and plot.

Turning back to Pete, Captain Von Trout said, “You mentioned joining forces.” He extended his hand. “Are you still open to that suggestion?”

Pete looked at the captain’s hand as if he’d never seen one before. “But what about our feud?”

The captain shrugged. “I’m over it if you are.”

Pete grinned and clasped the captain’s hand, shaking it heartily. “Where to, Cap’n?” He asked.

Captain Von Trout glanced back out over the open ocean. “Anywhere. We’re free.”