Rain or shine, the weathermen emerged in white tribal raincoats, ready for prognostications of meteorological disturbances, eyeing their weather charts and radar systems. They congregated at the coastal lighthouse, and ran inside to scribble predictions on ancient parchments. Later, more weathermen entered the lighthouse, assembling for coffee and cheesecake, clicking the lighthouse signal light on and off in their milling and gathering.
The ship that floated in the sea, adjacent to the jagged rocks, was confused by the signals from the lighthouse, moving port and starboard, then into the black. The boat ripped its hull against the jagged stone, crashing into the doomed port of the rock island in the night. The seamen crawled out of the wrecked vessel onto the cold grey rocks, gasping for air. They climbed through the icy night to the lighthouse, only to find its door closed, no weathermen to be found.
Eventually, the seamen were discovered by extreme picnickers, who enjoyed perching their picnic baskets on broken shards of shale. The picnickers shuttled the seamen back to civilization, where they were bathed, clothed and reassigned to a new boat. The weathermen chartered this boat to observe weather phenomena out at sea. The seamen got their revenge on the weathermen by abandoning them on a small rock in the middle of the ocean. There the weathermen sat in their white tribal raincoats, scribbling notes busily on clipboards. Eventually the weathermen were rescued by the extreme picnickers, who were scuba diving with aqua-compatible picnic baskets.