Dear Diary,
Coral Queen Here. Today I sunk to Davy Jones locker.And I'm going to express my angry and fear to you oh wonderful diary. It was a peaceful night with all the rich folks gambling and stuffing there faces at my buffet. My father Dusty Muleman seemed pretty happy with the amount of people on board. It was always packed but today seemed like an unusually heavy load. Good thing I didn't have to actually have to move. Usually, boats like me go out to sea 3 miles beyond the state boundaries for it to be legal to gamble, but Dusty says I'm special so I don't have to move. I've heard from other boats that when the weather is rough passenger throw up multi colored chunks of un-known stuff all every where. So I'm lucky. If it wasn't for my uncles, the Indians with very hard names, I wouldn't even be hear right now. Every one knows that only people who have ancestors who lived in America before the pilgrims arrived are allowed to run casinos in Florida. I was almost forced to travel the open sea to gamble until my uncles showed up with the legendary suited warriors with brief cases with a thousand tricks with them. They fiercely fought for my father to own with the Indians custody of me.
in the end the warriors won. Well back to the sinking. It was early in the morning when an Eco maniac started my engine, untied the rope and forced me to move from my special spot to the mouth of the basin. Then he cut the hose and disconnected the bilge pumps then dived overboard, watching me drown to to Davy Jones locker.
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