After a long and arduous journey of several minutes, they arrived at the port. Percious Mao buttons were no more, and the streets were filled with bureaucratic forms and empty liquor bottles similar to those served on airlines. The caravan stopped, drank some tea provided by Friar Pharmaceutical, and waited.
Presently, a group of drunken sailors arrived, and began accosting the saint and his followers. This irritated the saint mightily, also because all of the liquor bottles had been emptied by Lady Sophinator and he had nothing left to drink. He turned to a drunken sot lying under a pile of Tax Mulching Form 1066 sheets and said to him: "Oh ye who smells like a sea captain, I hereby appoint you Captain Iron Skull, Deacon in charge of the seamen! Go and expel the white semen!"
The ladies giggled, and the men held their hands over thair codpieces, and the good saint decided that he didn't need to cross that stinky body of water anyhow, and simply passed it.