“Welcome to Jojoba, Admiral!” says the intercom voice, and the crew recognize it’s Yoba’s voice, Total Commandeer of the Star Fleet.

“Admiral?” says the former Captain, and then understands that this was the test for his promotion to Admiral. Then ads a military “Thank you, SIR!”

“At ease, Admiral. Permission to enter orbit granted. The potatoes are a-smokin’ and a-waitin’. Beam down when ready.”

The Admiral gives the necessary orders, landing parties are organized by ranks and contingents. In half an hour they are all enjoying the party, especially those famous, delicious Jojoba potatoes.
Yoba’s approaching the first officer, asking him:

“You’ve been on a long mission. Are you up to date with the latest negotiations with the fetrengi?”

“Well, last I heard was that they were willing to give up their Face Dancers technology, if we allow them access to the latest research on gravity neutrons. But I doubt our Board will agree to such a disadvantageous bargain.”

“Indeed, that was what they proposed. What would we do with their shapeshifters, I have no idea. However they could make great progress on their gravity engines if they had some of our insight on the neutrons. The Board has already rejected this, but we didn’t communicate it to them yet. We will announce them in a week, at the Peace Conference on Gaudeamus. In the meantime, you are under arrest.”

“What is this new devilry?” asks the first officer, confused, as he gets handcuffed with force field cuffs by the Chief of Security.

What was happening? Why was the first officer under arrest?

But before that, please take note of this: I found some old unsolved riddles in the archives, that were not marked as unsolved. You can see them on the unsolved riddles page. Oh and congrats to Brandon Tilley, who solved the shape shifting riddle.

And now, on to the new one. The setting for this riddle is a hospital, and we’re about to witness a miracle.

“Doctor, we have an emergency! The patient’s BP is dropping,” says the nurse in an anxious voice.
“Oh, just let me have my lunch, will you? He ain’t gonna die…” replies the doctor, minding his meal, and then adds in a low voice, as if to himself, “at least not yet, he he…”
“Doctor, have you heard a word I’m saying? His BP is a hundred over forty,” shouts the nurse.
“I heard you all right, now gimme a break will you, I said he ain’t dyin’…”
“Doctor, what’s wrong with you, his BP just dropped to sixty over twenty, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!” screams the nurse.

People’s heads come out of rooms, toilets and whatnot to see what’s going on. The doctor keeps eating his lunch as if nothing happens.
The nurse continues, screaming from the top of her lungs:

“HELP! Doctor, you have to do something… His BP just dropped to forty over twelve. HELP! Someone call 911! Someone get me an ambulance…” says she, forgetting that they are actually in a hospital.

Panic starts building up, people start gathering to see what’s going on. The doctor minds his meal. The nurse, her face red, keeps screaming louder and louder. People wearing hearing aids ate putting them off, as they can hear her just fine.

“DOCTOR! His BP is in the single digits! Nine over four! HEEELP! HEEEELP! Somebody!”
“Chill, hon, and come to your senses. You’re going to scare him to death. I said he’s all right, now hush,” says the doctor calmly, while continuing his meal. He’s almost done now.

The whole hospital is now flooding to the intensive care ward to see what’s all the shouting about. Rivers of doctors, nurses, patients and auxiliary staff alike, flow from all directions to the IC ward, as real rivers would flow to the sea. It gets so crowded that it’s impossible to move. They are a living wall of people. The nurse just continues screaming, louder and louder.

“DOCTOR! His BP is now two over one! You have to do something!”
“Yi heave ti di simthing…” repeats the doctor in a mocking voice. By now he finished his lunch. He gets up, jumps on top of the crowd, and walks stepping over people’s heads and shoulders, cruising across the hospital like there’s no tomorrow, heading to the patient’s bed. The nurse follows him, but she’s not as skillful walking on top of the crowd, she keeps tripping, falling flat and standing up again, going on all four, crawling, walking, and kicking people in the nose, mouth and whatnot, leaving a trail of casualties in her wake.

As they reach the patient’s bed, the machine he’s connected to indicates his BP is one over zero, and his hearts beat once per minute. The doctor looks at the patient calmly. The nurse is panicked, desperate, and has simply lost it. The crowd has followed them and now the entire hospital is in the room, yet somehow they manage to form a perimeter around the three protagonists. Within seconds, the machine that goes ping no longer goes ping, and it starts emitting the dreaded, long, infinite beep. They are all in awe, except the doctor who looks strangely calm.
Suddenly he booms, theatrically:

“Get up! Pick up thy cot and walk!”

The patient opens his eyes, as if awaken from the death itself, jumps straight, releasing himself from electrodes, catheters, painkillers, antibiotics, and God knows what else, grabs his bed, lifting it above his head, and starts walking around the room, almost hitting people and the hospital machinery with the iron bed.
The nurse faints. Several old ladies in the “front row” cross themselves saying Amen. A priest in the back, who had managed to get himself on top of the crowd by means he wouldn’t admit to, also crosses himself, whispering “what the hell…” The chief doctor of the hospital, who had also managed to secure a place on top of the crowd, by ordering some interns to lift him, somehow manages to keep his grip on the important, and shouts at the patient: “Careful with that bed, mate, that machine is worth two hundred thousand dollars!”

The calm doctor who apparently caused all this scene seems to be the only one to have taken the Hippocratic Oath. He heads for the fallen nurse that the crowd seems to have forgotten, and starts basic CPR.

Now, the riddle: what just happened here?

“What’s gotten into him?” asks a middle-aged lady.

Nobody replies.

“Where is he taking us?” asks another middle-aged lady.

“Someone call 911, he’s trying to kidnap us. Terrorist!” shouts yet another middle-aged lady.

Terror. Fear. Hopelessness. No cell-phone signal in the middle of nowhere.

“Somebody DO SOMETHING!” shouts a middle-aged lady who sits near the lady who asked for a 911 call.

But, alas, nobody can do anything. The bus is going straight in the heart of the desert, at a great speed, bumping on the rocks and keeping everybody in their seats, clinging on any stable handle they can find. Any attempt to get up and “do something” is futile. And the speed increases even more…

“Is there any police officer on this bus?” asks a middle-aged lady.

“Somebody shoot this wacko, he leads us to great peril!” confirms another middle-aged lady.

But, alas again, there is no police officer on the bus, which nearly flies now; it seems to disintegrate at any moment. And it’s accelerating still.

“Help! We are being kidnapped by this communist terrorist!” shouts a middle-aged lady at a plane she sees in the sky – terror has twisted her mind and she doesn’t want to accept that there is nobody that can help them.

And then, the bus starts to slow down. Within minutes, it reaches a full stop. Everybody is in shock, nobody can make a move.

As the driver steps out of his cabin, a middle-aged lady screams:

“Don’t kill us! Take our money, but spare our lives!”

The driver’s voice sounds a bit irritated:

“Oh, but I already spared your life, lady! Twice today! Once saved. Once given.”

And the riddle: what did the driver mean?

This purpose of the edifice becomes apparent as our hero, after placing the last handful of mud and the last cane stick to the edifice, dives athletically in the swamp. He reaches out for air once in a while, all covered in mud, swims and sweeps, deep and shallow, as if looking for something. Eventually he comes out holding a frog, and puts it inside the edifice. The scared frog jumps back and forth, unable to reach over the other side; captured.

Our hero dives again, and again, and again…

Soon the edifice contains hundreds of frogs. Then he sits on a log and waits. The scared jumping frogs make a terrible noise but this seems not to bother our hero. He seems to actually enjoy it. Some time passes without much change, frogs jumping, hero sitting, all covered in mud that begins to dry.

Presently a new frog comes out of the swamp. He radiates tranquility, his self possession and grounded halo distinguish him from the other frogs, which seem to sense his presence and become calm and quiet. Even those unfamiliar with their ways can read the frogs’ mind: He’s here!

He stops in front of our hero, about six feet away, looks at the edifice and thinks: What is this new devilry? In a calm voice, radiating serenity, he affirms:

“You shall release my people from this edifice.”

“Ha ha ha, I feel greatly honored to be addressed by your majesty,” laughs our hero wickedly, “but, you see, this time around it is I who sets the terms of our agreement. As you set your foot out of that swamp onto this red sand you’re sitting on now, your powers have forever been forfeit.”

“You shall release my people, lest shall I turn you into what you hate most.”

As our hero did not submit, the King of Frogs jumps in the air, claps his feet and creates a spark, but then nothing happens.

“Ha ha ha, not this time, your majesty, not this time around…”

The loud laughter echoed in the woods, while the King of Frogs smiled.

Why is the King of Frogs smiling?

“Watch it, this black lava is hot like hell… proper hot like proper hell!” said the Captain.
“Ain’t no lava here… ‘t’is tar, from them tar volcanoes yonder,” said the Navigator, staring at the treasure map intently.
“Damb them Dragons ‘n their nestin’ habits… to hell… ney, ‘t’is worse then hell here, this confounded Dragon got his hideout hidden in them Devils’ bloody tar pit itself! Steer starboard, ya’ freaking beard-bearing-bastard, ya’ gonna get us all toasted, just the proper dinner for them proper tar sharks…”

They navigate through the black matter with the skill mastered in all the battles they fought in their long years, closing in to the spot.

“Captain,” announces the mastboy climbed to the masthead, his one eye closed, the other stuck to the telescope, “I see him. May the Holly Moth save our dirty skins once more, it’s a big one.”
“He sleepin’?” asks the Captain, climbing up, “lemme see.”
“He’s awake, Captain, starin’ straight at us.”
“Nah,” says the Captain, looking through the telescope, “‘t’is one of them Black Dragons. Sleeps with eyes open, wakes with them closed.”

The mastboy had only seen Green Dragons, it was the first Black Dragon he saw. From what he heard, Black Dragons were supposed to be considerably bigger than Green Dragons. This one was big, but not that big.

“Steer due North! Let’s get him before he wakes up!”

They get closer and closer, the Black Dragon’s eye fixed on them. Then, suddenly, the Dragon spits a tongue of fire in their direction, setting the big sail on fire. The Captain, confuse, stares and can’t comprehend how could the Dragon sense them. Was the Dragon dreaming? Impossible, Black Dragons don’t dream. And then suddenly he realized what was going on, in a moment of crystal clear clarity.

“Argh, sly bastard, nearly killed us! Fly, you fools!”

They head for the life boat and start paddling, knowing that the Dragon would be attracted by the large ship and leave them alone. They have a long ride home ahead of them.

The question is: what did the Captain realize in his moment of clarity?

“This has been going on for too long. Ensign, arm disruptors. Prepare proton torpedoes 3 through 5,” orders the captain.

“Disruptors armed… and ready to fire, sir.”

“Sir,” booms the navigation officer suddenly, “they released us. We have control. But they’re preparing to fire as well.”

“Shields up, maximum power. Prepare for evasive maneuvers.”

“Sir, they’ve launched a proteic missile with a five terrayens warhead. Impact in 15 seconds.”

“Five terrayens???” shout the bridge crew almost at unison.

“Ensign, repeat that. Did you say five terrayens? Are you sure you’re reading correctly? Navigation, begin evasive maneuvers. Expedite. Battle deck, launch radioactive chaff. Expedite. Engineering, cloak us, expedite. Expedite expedite EXPEDITE!”

“Yes sir that is fiver – terra – yens of atomic energy coming straight at us, impact in 8 seconds.”

“Evading, sir,” says the navigation officer, “chaff is away and cloak is on, but we’re not shaking it sir. Fiver seconds to impact.”

All the crew are now staring at the main screen which shows the proteic missile approaching despite all their efforts. When it gets to almost impact, it starts furthering away, heading for the other ship.

“Holy Mother of The Nine,” says the captain in awe, “they have the technology to control a five terrayens proteic missile! These fellows are trying to teach us a lesson and they’ve put up quite a demonstration. They’re playing with us like we’re some child’s toys.”

They are now a little relieved, but still scared. They watch the proteic missile furthering away, back to the ship that launched it and now was capturing it back into her hangars. Or so they thought…

“Sir,” says the navigation officer, “she’s heading back too fast. They haven’t opened any hangars. Impact in eight seconds. Sir, it WILL blast. And with a five terrayens warhead everything on a distance of ten qarsecs will turn to radioactive ashes…”

“Great Reverend Mother of Muscat! This can’t be true! O’brain, take us out of here, warp nine, expedite, fast expedite, EXPEDITE!!! NOW! EXPEDITE!!! EX-PE-DITE!! They are here!”

And now the riddle: who was there? What did the captain realize?

The party starts cheering as Bilboa Badgins finishes his speech. Only Candalf, the wizard, looks suspicious.

Out of the blue, Sarumana’s fire dragons fly down on the unsuspecting crowd. Everybody freezes for a second, then runs for cover, each to his own, hiding under tables, in mole holes, in cricket hideouts and wherever. Everybody but three folks:

• Candalf stands proud, staff ready in his left, sword in his right, and starts mumbling some dragonskin spell.
• Bilboa, somewhat surprised, as this was the moment of his stunt, but he hadn’t pulled his stunt quite yet, so, not noticing the dragons, he’s wondering what’s wrong with the crowd.
• Per Grin Tok, who looks like he’s had too many pints of ginger ale, staring up with a queer smile.

The riddle: why is Per Grin Tok smiling?

“Yes, Shaggyd, I concur,” confirms the younger, less experienced commentator, “they are making a good game indeed. For those who’ve just turned the TV on, we are watching the game between Sun Bucharest and Manchester Divided. Manchester Divided scored in the first five minutes, and was ahead for almost all the game, but Sun Bucharest turned this around by scoring twice in three minutes when the game is almost over. Only a couple of minutes left.”

“Thank you, Slim Shaded,” continues Shaggyd, “for reminding our spectators the situation. Now let’s concentrate on the game, because I see Manchester Divided counterattacking, they pass the ball with extreme ease, closing in on the Sun Bucharest’s goalkeeper, and yeeeesssss, it’s a GOOOOAAAALL, what a comeback, with only two secods left from the game, the Romanians manage to score, which makes this game a tie.”

“Sorry to correct you, Shaggyd,” continues Slim Shaded, “but perhaps you mean the Englishmen manage to score.”

“No, Slim Shaded, I meant the Romanians. I told you so many times to stop making a fool of yourself correcting me. Now hush.”

And the riddle: Why did Shaggyd say that, what did he mean? Which of the two commentators is right?

“Are you hurt?” asks the fox, and then to the wolf: “She doesn’t seem to be wounded.”

They realize that the crow was dying. The wolf says to the fox:

“I know her. She’s the youngster you made fun of at the last forest gathering. The one who swore revenge.”

With her last strength, the crow manages to articulate:

“Revenge… will… be… mine…” and then departs this life.

“It’s a pity,” says the fox, “she misinterpreted my words. I meant no offence, it was nothing personal. Her lack of experience prevailed upon her. She was too young, her parents shouldn’t have let her take part in the counsel.”

“Aye,” confirms the wolf, “youngsters easily and needlessly get hot blood. Let us meditate for a moment that her spirit finds peace.”

After meditation, the fox says:

“Well, we must now take her body to the Fleshing Meadow for the fleshing ritual, to feast on her flesh as tradition requires.”

After a while, the wolf seems to have a revelation and suddenly protests:

“No! We must bury this youngster. She will be denied tradition.”

“On what grounds? For what reason is the fleshing ritual in the Fleshing Meadow to be denied to her? Tradition says we must feast on her flesh, to show our friendship and approval.”

And now the riddle: why did the wolf insist on burying her? What did he realize?

“Captain, are they coming?”

“Yeah… I see her… she’s cloaked. All men battle positions! Prepare photon torpedoes!”

“Armed photon torpedoes 1 through 4!”

“Open hailing frequencies! On screen! Show us their main deck.”

The screen lights up and shows the stars. The captain continues:

“A-ha, invisible suits for the crew of the invisible ship. They sent a first class spy ship. Open audio.”

“Audio channel already open sir.”

“A-ha, soundproof helmets for the invisible crew of the invisible ship. Nice combo. They really invested in this one. Send them a text message. Say greetings and may you go many parsecs.”

The officer types something then says:

“Sir, we got no confirmation receipt.”

“A-ha, ACK protocol disabled. OK. This is getting interesting. Psychic officer, tune in to their brain waves. Send ‘em this message telepathically: greetings and may many parsecs pass you by.”

Telepath says:

“Sir I detect nothing.”

“A-ha, psychic shields up. OK. That about sums it up. Good. Ensign, contact the Federation by subspace. Send this message: Alien spy hostile unidentified undetectable cloaked ship encountered. We were refused any contact and were unable to ascertain their true intentions. As per security protocol, we will open fire.”

The first officer looks puzzled. So does the entire crew. He says:

“Sir, are you sure this is necessary? Are you sure the spy ship is really there? We can’t see it, our sensors detect nothing… We’re wasting our torpedoes.”

“Quiet, number one. Just trust me, I see it with my special abilities. Ensign, set the photon torpedoes automatic discharge on coordinates 135, 200 mark 3. This should hit her straight in the heart. Engine room that is.”

“Sir I must speak up,” continues the first officer. “I think you are just trying to get ahead in your career, blasting inexistent spy ships and whatnot. Special abilities my ass. Enough with this charade. I must speak up. I think I can safely say that I speak for the entire crew. We have other important business to do on behalf of the Federation, instead of chasing fantasies and wasting a perfectly good five million feddolars torpedo.”

The captain stamps his foot and ignores him:

“Shut up, you know nothing. Ensign, on three, fire!”

“Belay that order! Enough!” said the first officer, smiling with satisfaction.

Why was the first officer smiling?

Today’s riddle challenge is challenging enough for thee, I trust.

“The Sun is rising, captain!” says the yeoman, touching the captain’s shoulder so as to wake him up.

“So soon? but I… I feel like I didn’t get any sleep at all,” says the captain confusingly rubbing his eyes.

“Sir, you instructed to be waken up upon sunrise, and alas, sunrise is upon us!”

“Arrgh! OK, OK, wake up the entire landing party… let’s get things in motion!”

“Things are now in motion, that cannot be undone,” says the first officer, whose fine ears perceived the conversation as loud enough to awake him.

“Indeed, says the captain,” then shouts “everybody in formation.”

The landing party gets in formation and the captain gives order to start the works.

After about eight hours, the Sun wasn’t even at zenith, and the crewmen were exhausted. The science officer says:

“Sir, if I may point out, the Sun is rising.”

“What?” says the captain, “what is this new devilry?” and then shouts angrily, as he figures things out “YEOMAN!!!”

The yeoman appears, and the captain continues:

“I told you to wake us when the SUN is rising, not Vertigo’s second moon!”

They had been up and working for eight hours, hardly had any sleep and the morale was appalling. The yeoman replies:

“Sir, if I may point out, we are in Vertigo’s winter season, which means the second moon doesn’t rise at all in this hemisphere. There’s something at work here…”

Can you guess what was going on?

“Approaching the Jojoba system, captain.”

“Very well. Sensor readings?”

“Everything looks normal sir. We have visual.”

“On main screen.”

The officer presses some buttons on his panel and the main screen shows the Jojoba planet, with the orbital docking station prepared.

“Strange…”, says the captain, “they seem to be expecting us. How did they know we were coming?”

“Sir, I don’t think it’s us that they’re waiting for. I’m detecting a cargo ship, class M-35, heading for Jojoba as well.”

“M-35? That’s one of the biggest they make… and slowest. Navigator, we must not allow this cargo ship to dock before us. M-35s are known for their long docking procedure time. It could take as long as 6 hours. Our crew is craving those delicious Jojoba potatoes, we can’t make them wait that long. Ahead warp factor 7.”

“But sir, we didn’t get permission to dock.”

“No, we didn’t. But the docking station is prepared nevertheless. Let me worry about permissions, you just dock, and dock fast.”

The navigator presses some buttons and within seconds they are starting docking procedures, while the cargo ship was still several space miles away. The admiral that was in command on Jojoba was one of the captain’s friends, so the captain wasn’t worried about docking without permission.

“Docking complete, sir.”

“Very well. All crew maintain…” but before getting a chance to finish the phrase, the captain abruptly stops talking and chokes. After a couple of seconds, he spits out a potato. “What’s this supposed to mean?” shouts the captain angrily.

Another potato falls on his first officer’s head, out of nowhere.

“Security chief, report to bridge, expedite,” says the captain in the intercom.

As the door opens and the security chief enters, with a potato in his mouth, waves of potatoes from the corridor invade the bridge.

“Captain, permission to report,” asks the security chief after removing the potato from his mouth, “our ship is overrun by potatoes. And delicious ones too, I might add.”

Can you guess why was the ship overrun by potatoes?

As far as the correct solution for the riddle goes, here’s what happened, and how the story goes from here:

Smiling, the captain announces on the intercom:

“Everyone, rejoice, we have beaten the resilience record. The amount of time the crew of a ship of USS class can stand still in battle positions. This was the second test of the day, not for the security chief, but for all the crew. We managed 7 hours, 31 minutes, and 2 seconds, which is one hour more than the previous record, held by USS CakeCheese.”

“Hurray, hurray,” booms the ship with the enthusiastic crew, so loud that the member who had passed out and was on the way to the infirmary jumps up and shouts “hurray” as well, not really knowing why.

After some time the navigator announces:

“Captain, we’ve reached Jojoba.”

“Open hailing frequencies!” orders the captain, then greeting the Jojoba control tower officer on duty, “Greetings, and may Jojoba prosper! Requesting permission to enter orbit. My men are thirsty and hungry for some of your renowned potatoes!”

“Permission denied! You will not enter Jojoba system space. You are not granted permission to approach orbit. Set course backwards, expedite, or you will be fired upon.”

As the captain, and everyone, were still confused, seconds pass, then suddenly the chief of security shouts:

“Photon torpedo approaching, estimated impact seven seconds!”

“Shields up!” booms the captain. “Engines backward full. Code red. Open coded subspace transmitters, expedite! Transmit code three, seven, niner, four, five, eight, niner, three. Expedite.”

Just as he said the last word, and the chief officer pressed the Go button, the photon torpedo hits the shield, but the ship doesn’t shake or break.

“What is this new devilry?” asks the captain in a low voice, unable to comprehend the situation. The security chief, however, figures something out and smiles behind his panel.

What was happening? What did the security Chieftain Admiral understand that the others are still confused about?

“Well done, security chief,” says the captain on the intercom. “It was a test. All officers, meet me and number one on the main deck, to celebrate the security chief’s promotion to Chieftain Admiral of Armory and Weaponry!”

They all flock to the main deck, when suddenly the intercom goes live again:

“All crew, battle positions! All crew battle positions! This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill!”

Within moments all are at their posts.

“Take evasive maneuver!” shouts the captain.

“Evading enemies, go!” replies navigator.

“Shields up, 90 percent!”

“Up they go, 90 percent, sir!”

All were tensed, and this was augmented by the fact that they didn’t know what they were up against. The captain had had no time to inform them, too busy giving orders that saved the ship and their lives.

Everyone stood still, as seconds passed. Then minutes passed. Then hours passed, no one daring to interrupt. So they stood until the first fellow crew member fell to the floor, exhausted by hunger, thirst, tension and sleep deprivation.

“Take him to the infirmary,” says the captain. “Navigator, set course for Jojoba system. Let’s feast on some delicious potatoes to celebrate!”

What was there to celebrate?

“All officers to the holospace room. All officers to the holospace room,” can be heard on all intercoms.

From all around the ship, officers flock to the holospace room.

The captain was waiting there, with the first officer to his right.

“The captain has a very important announcement to make,” says the first officer.

“Thank you, number one,” replies the captain, “this is concerning all of us. Effective immediately, the first officer is in charge of this ship. I’m granting him full authority. You will follow his orders as if they were my own. You will direct all top security questions to him.”

The chief of security steps out of the crowd and says:

“First officer, you are under arrest for attempting to compromise security of this ship. The captain would never give such orders. This captain is obviously a hologram you have programmed as part of your scheme. Where is the real captain?”

As the security chief tries to handcuff the first officer, the cuffs just go through him – he was a hologram.

“What is this new devilry?” asks the security chief, very confused.

Indeed, what has just happened?

As I often do, I’d been searching for mushrooms in the old woods. I was quite happy, having found one of the rarest wonders: a ghost mushroom. Treading the path due east, to the green lake, I stopped to more carefully listen to the sounds of what seemed to be an ironfur bear. Sure enough, it was one, talking to a white wolf.

“You’re sure it was the right place?” asked the bear in a grave voice.

“Yes,” replied the wolf, “the dead tree was there, 10 paces north of the ancient milestone. But it was nowhere.”

“She’s going to die soon.”

I was close enough now to see the scene. The white wolf was tired from running, and the ironfur bear was carrying a fox on his back.

The fox seemed very weak, as she whispered something in the bear’s ear. Within moments, the wolf and the bear have me cornered against a large tree, showing their teeth in anger. Finally figuring what happened, I smile and relax.

Later, I’m treading the path due east, to the green lake, with three friends.

What happened?

The ship keeps spinning even after the sharp shark was thrown overboard.
“Climb down mates! Safe is the ship,” orders the captain.
But the sailors dare not let go of the mast, lest shall they be thrown overboard as well, lest shall they become food for the sharp shark.
“Argh!” says the captain. “Noobs! Climb down one by one, first one hold on to the mast, next one hold on to the first one. Make a chain of men! Reach for the helm and stay this madness!”
Slowly, men start doing as they are told. Within minutes, one of them reaches for the helm and stops the spinning. All are very dizzy and let go of the mast, making a pile of men at its base.
Before recovering well from dizziness or having a chance to react, their hands and legs are all tied, except for the sailor in charge with scrubbing the floors, who was now standing in front of two one-eyed men and grinning:
“Who’s the noob now, mates?”

“Weigh anchor! Hoist the sails!”
“Up we go, captain! North by north west!”
“Aye, aye! May we find peaceful waters and blue sky ahead of us!”
“Captain, shark on board! Sharp shark on board!”
“Up the mast, mates, climb up the mast! Make haste!”
Sailors from all around the ship make for the mast and start going up, up, up, one by one. It soon becomes apparent that the ship will lose balance, with all the weight up. Half the crew is on the masthead now. The captain shouts:
“Halt! Halt! All stop!”
Sailors freeze. The ship, with no one at the helm, starts spinning in circles, faster and faster, almost throwing the sailors overboard. The captain shouts once more:
“Hug the mast, mates! Hug the mast! Tight!”
“We’re gonna die! We’re all gonna die!” cries a young sailor, new to the craft, who was only allowed to brush the floors.
“Argh, quiet, noob! Watch and learn!” says the mate in a confident voice.

Why did the captain give such orders? What’s the new sailor supposed to learn?

“All crew officers, report to main deck.”
From all around the place, officers run to the main deck.
“I want status.”
“Engines running 60% load, no damage, sir, yes sir, enough fuel to reach there and back again,” says chief engineer.
“Shields down, no danger detected in 10 parsec range, sir, yes sir,” says chief armorer.
“Kitchen supplies will only last one more week, sir, yes sir,” reports chief chef.
“All right,” says the captain, then addressing to his first officer, “number one, suggest solution to potential problem.”
“I suggest, sir, yes sir, we teleport potatoes from Jojoba system on board to address crisis,” says first officer.
“Do you suggest perhaps we play target shooting with potatoes, number one?”
First officer blushes, realizing that he just made a gaffe.
“Sir, no sir, accept my apologies, sir, yes sir.”

And the riddle: why did the first officer apologize? What’s the gaffe?

“Are you absolutely sure?” asked the bear, as if to re-confirm.

“Yes,” replied the wolf, “the dog at the pig farm was tied with a chain and sleeping, that’s why I didn’t see it. You must hurry. It’s starting.”

“It’s the right thing to do, my old friend,” said the bear. “See you soon, on the green meadows of heaven forests.”

“So long, my old friend.”

They hug as good old friends would, then the bear mauls the wolf to death.

Impressed by the beauty and selflessness of the scene, I contemplate the whole story for a while, before returning to my mushrooms.

What had actually happened?