“I’m from—hic—Whale Town!” the drunk yelled as he slammed his mug of ale on the stained wooden bar top.

“You’ve ’ad enough, Wallace,” the bartender interrupted. “That’s yer las’ pint, ol’ man.”

“These buggers—hic—they think me a liar!” Wallace pointed a thick finger at the others in the bar.

Wallace slid off his wobbly stool. “I miss my home,” he slurred, “Big White Momma… she saved us all. Swallowed the crew and busted ship whole, she did. We restarted our lives within her belly… built homes from the ship’s timber.”

Some people snickered at Wallace. “Friggin’ drunk,” one man said.

Wallace continued, “Big White Momma saved other castaways as well… she gave us air and fish. She needed our help, she did. We had to kill the cancer sharks feeding on her guts. Those things were like giant lampreys, they were!”

Wallace left the tavern. He didn’t need anyone to believe him. The drinking helped him drown his sadness away. He didn’t just miss his home, you see. He missed his wife and boy as well.