The Bermuda Triangle

You had better burn offerings to the Enlightened One, if you ever find yourself in Bermuda; otherwise, you’re bound to waste away, because of bad luck. Mankind was never meant to fly in airplanes.

Here are the facts: You went sailing on a ship in the Atlantic Ocean. You were aiming for Portugal. Then water came flooding through a crevice in your boat. You cast all your women and children overboard and sent hopes and prayers along with them, so that they might swim and find the shoreline. At this point, you yourself vanished deep beneath the sea, because a Devil Hammer took you. Your general opinion about this experience is that it was better than death. Someone then handed you the following memo, to clarify what had happened:

Your ship never came back alive because there’s something lurking underneath the deep, and it’s not a nice person. Why do pontoon boats and innocent weather-balloons always disappear? Why do tourists seldom return to their country of origin, after spending a week or two in the wild blue yonder? Here is the answer to these and many more questions: The Bermuda Triangle is infested with an enormous sperm whale whose nom de plume is Moby-Dick. He capsizes canoes and even devours low-flying helicopters. And when private jets glide past, his air-hole blows them out of the sky, and they get strangled with rope. So now you know the answer to the mystery of the Devil Hammer murders. It’s the sperm whale dressed in white who made your favorite poet drink himself to oblivion.