Sensing blood in the water, the sharks are beginning to circle in tighter circles. The Emperor is close to his lifeboat, yet the rest of the crew are still manning the bridge, lacking a similar means of escape as the water rises all around them. Alas, the futility of it all will soon become evident.
The Italian Waiter calls for a late reprint of the menu for his last supper. But a walk through the mess hall reveals empty shelves. The cabinets are bare. The new menu does not reflect what is really available in the sinking kitchen.
Likewise, test programs for the doomed "Stick" that were deemed too expensive and jettisoned overboard last year are magically reappearing on schedules, albeit without supporting budget. Something fishy is going on in Alabama.
The fish and floating bottles of wine now surrounding the Waiter are a product of the rising waters, and not from the transformation of similarly floating loaves of bread. "The Snow Princess will see that we are doing the right things to make this program work and we shall be saved by her benevolence," says the goateed one. "But, sir, we have no means of cooking such a meal and the water continues to breach the bulkheads," say the minions.
"Don't bother me with details, just be sure to print today's selections on glossy paper with a spiral bound."