Not suprisingly, Smashingtons do not excel at construction…

1 Obolenskidonia Place, Obolenskidonia

The elderly man glared at the plans laid across the makeshift table, in the center of the what would, with a bit of time and effort, be his new workshop.   Nearby, an oversized crane arm carefully placed a giant orange into an iron bracket.

A creaking noise from the doorway caught his attention, and he turned to catch sight of a grizzled, bearded sailor, gagged, and  strapped to a rolling gurney, being pushed by a rotund mechanical man.

“Ahhh, Captain Rum, is it?   I do apologize for taking you away from your duties, but I need to have a word.”, the old man reached over and pulled the gag free.

“Oblonsky, you low-down, tar-chewing son of a patagonian fig fiddler!”, bellowed the sailor, “I’ll gut you like my dear sweet sainted m…rphl!”, the old man quickly replaced the gag.

“It’s Obolensky….Doctor Obolensky, do get it right.    I’d have my right-hand cat-man threaten you with a proper maiming, but he’s out of the country.   So, answer my questions, quickly, or I’ll just give you back to the Mer who netted you off your own deck.   Now, tell me what this….”, with a wheeze, the elderly doctor swung a five-gallon can up and onto the sailor’s chest with a thump.  “….is.”.

The captain’s eyes bulged, and he made a strangled noise, but after a few preliminary coughs, managed to reply, once the doctor removed his gag again.

“Curse ye, for the mad loon you are, Oblon…Obolensky!   That there’s one of the cans you ordered, and I delivered just yesterday, a thousand of ’em, from Carpanian Boy.   On time, an’ not a drop spilled!  Now let me free, you gorglemffl!”.

Doctor Obolensky reinserted the gag, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.   “What *I* ordered, Captain, was five thousand gallons of high grade lemming oil.   Do you see “lemming oil” written anywhere on this label?  Or even a picture of a lemming?”, Obolensky turned the can toward the sailor’s head.   “No?   Could it be because this *isn’t* lemming oil?”.   The sailor shrugged.

“What you have delivered to me is a lifetime supply of ‘Twilight Azure Ready-Dipt Insulated Stain, suitable for exterior use on outhouses, phone booths, sheds, and barns.’    Now tell me, Captain Rum….what am I supposed to do with five thousand gallons of blue paint?!”.   Obolensky pulled the gag out once more.

“Errr…”, replied the sailor.  “So, yer not ‘Proctor Oblonsky’, then?”

Doctor Obolensky’s right eye bulged more than usual.   “Smashington, fill his pockets with some of those polished bottle-caps, and throw him into the Deep.”