The momentous day had come: the four-hour drive to The Harbor, followed by a four-hour drive back home. The Bus felt as ready as it would ever be for this undertaking: tank full, oil changed, bathroom cleaned. It would survive this journey; with any luck, its passengers would, too.
After many adventures throughout the now six-hour-drive, it was discovered upon arrival that The Harbor would soon be closing for the day. The Bus did not risk life and tires to be turned away at the gates – not now, not like this. The passengers at that point wanted to go home, but they were trapped by their only mode of easy transportation. The Bus would not be foiled by museum hours.
It backed up less stealthily than it would have liked, since the beep-beep-beeps revealed its position. It then reared forward, smoke pouring through its nostrils, as it kneeled and accelerated along the ground, reaching escape velocity just as it impacted the gates. Tourists and employees alike scattered into the bushes and dove behind statues as The Bus flew through the air, arcing gracefully at a 45º angle until it descended into The Harbor with a mighty splash. Fish and birds were displaced momentarily, then were able to resume their day.
This disturbance did not go unnoticed. The Whaler, resting peacefully in its dock as its parts were replaced one-by-one over the years, noted the unholy commotion. Pirates have returned to these waters, was its fearful thought.
The Whaler shook off its barnacles and shot out the hapless explorers crawling around its deck and in its bowels. The screams of the slaughtered whales past could at last be ignored: there was work to be done
Its sails unfurled, its helm pointed true, its cannons set at the ready. Onward it sailed, to defend The Harbor, to defend life, to defend love, to defend revenue.
The Bus continued its forward course until it sensed a ship approaching off the port bow. It came about and faced The Whaler in all its menace. Battle was at hand, and as its enemy had done, The Bus shot out the passengers seated inside it, the better able to maneuver in strange waters. The passengers swam to shore, were taken in by the nearest restaurant, and were never seen again.
The battle commenced! Cannonballs were answered by the noxious flames shot from The Bus’s front grill. Each vessel was mighty – The Whaler in size, The Bus in speed and pluck. As The Whaler suffered singe-marks and chipped paint from the battle, docents everywhere wept.
At last, The Bus chanced all by accelerating to ramming speed. The Whaler, knowing that no quarter would be given and there would be no second attempt at restoration, hoisted a white flag in surrender. The Harbor was yielded: The Bus was triumphant. It coasted into The Whaler’s dock and took its place as the featured attraction of the Harbor.
The defeated Whaler sailed onto the shore, dropped anchor in the main parking lot, and provided free tours of the town until the end of its days.