"So, how was the buffet?" Paul asked, reading a book.
"Horrible." George sulked.
"Aw, what happened, Georgie? Did they run out of your favorite sandwich?" John said in a childish voice, pretend frowning.
"No. They ran out of food." George complained.
"They gave us squid." Ringo said. "How did your little psychoanalysis go, Johnnie?"
"Hmph." John shrugged.
"I need some air, it's too hot in here." Ringo said, opening the small porthole window. Rain water came pouring out of the small porthole, soaking the poor drummer and making the rest of them, (especially John) burst out in laughter.
"Enjoyed your little swim, I see." John said in between laughing, rolling on the floor.
"Very funny, Lennon. Like the time you had trouble getting out of the revolving door?" Ringo said, shaking himself off.
"Shut up! I was tired and half asleep. With a headache."
"Sure." Paul sarcastically said, rolling his eyes. John opened his mouth, most likely to say a witty remark of some sort, until a large roll of thunder interupted him and his comment.
"Whoa. That's some storm."
"You're tellin' me."
"Attention all people on board, please report to the front deck. There're, um, whales, yeah, whales." They announced over the P.A.
"Whales?" They all asked skeptically.
"With a storm like that? They wouldn't ask everyone to the top deck with weather like that. Whales or no whales."
"WILL EVERYONE PLEASE GET TO THE TOP DECK IMMEDIATELY!?! Uh, the whales are doing magnificent flips, uh yeah." The P.A. announcer shouted.
"Mates, I think we all know that they want everyone on the top deck for something more serious than leaping whales." Paul said. There was silence for a few seconds. The four decided to come up to the top deck, but with disguises, just to be sure. But they all knew very well it was more than whales.