"Tooom!!!"

"Umph."

George sighed. Tom wasn't about to budge- and that wasn't a surprise. He'd have to resort to his secret weapon. He reached into his pocket and-

HOOONNNKK!!!

"What the bloody hell..." Tom sat up rigidly in his bed and rubbed his eyes furiously, blinking toward the doorway to see who the hell had made that noise...

"C'mon, get dressed!" George said, tossing a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt at Tom's head. Tom grunted, not quite awake yet.

"Why are you at my house at..." He glanced at the clock- "...bloody five o'clock?"

George grinned, not even the least bit appalled at Tom's anger. "We're going on a trip."

Tom groaned. "Bob's got acid?"

"No," George answered, smiling. "We do not encourage the readers of this oneshot to resort to drugs, although-"

"George, shut the hell up and let me sleep," Tom interjected, his voice becoming dangerously soft.

George shook his head. "No can do, Tommy. Get your clothes on. We're going to Bob's next."

Tom fell back against the bed, groaning. Boy, this was going to be great.

When Tom came out onto the driveway, he spotted something very peculiar tied to the back of George's van. 

It was a freaking boat.

"Like the ride?" George asked Tom, smiling. Tom could now clearly see what George was wearing- a pair of faded jeans, old sneakers, and a shirt that said: "FISHIN'- GOOD FOR THE SOUL." The shirt had a big picture of a blue fish on the front. The usual corny George.

Tom stared at George's peculiar shirt for a minute, and then at the boat, and then back at George. "Where the hell's the boat from?"

"I bought it," George said proudly.

"You went out and bought a boat... just like that?"

He nodded defiantly, not realizing his huge mistake.

Tom sighed. "Do you know what? I'm just not even going to ask. Let's go get Bob."

"Knew you'd give in," George muttered.

"What was that?" Tom asked him as he climbed into the van.

"Nothing," George said quickly, turning on the ignition. "Let's roll."

******

"George!"

George peeked out of the window. "What's up, Jeff?"

"There's a bloody boat attached to your van!" Jeff roared.

"We know," Roy, Bob, and Tom chorused dryly. Roy and Bob were crammed in the backseat between all the endless fishing gear that George had brought with him. Not that he had a clue how to use it.

"Do you even know how to drive a boat?"

"Nope."

Jeff looked absolutely terrified. "George-"

"Just get in, huh?" Tom cut Jeff off. "We'll explain everything later. Not that this bloke would care to." 

George started laughing uncontrollably, and Roy followed helplessly. Soon enough the others had joined in.

"You went out-" Jeff gasped out between fits of laughter- "And bought a boat?"

George nodded, shaking with laughter. 

"We're going bloody fishing!" Bob roared, and they laughed harder.

Soon enough, they'd arrived at the harbour. They'd somehow managed to get the boat in the water, but now there was the challenge of starting it. 

And there were other challenges, too.

"George, d'ya have any food?" Roy said.

"Uh-"

"You didn't pack any food?" Jeff, Roy, Bob, and Tom said in unison.

"Well, I did."

"Where is it, then?" Jeff demanded.

"Well, it's in the cooler in the back of the car," George said- "But before you go, I gotta tell you something."

"What?"

"I packed... canned tomatoes."

"What the hell?" Tom was the first to say.

"Well, I thought I packed beans, but it was tomatoes," George answered helplessly. 

After a long pause, Bob was the first to say, "Well, I guess we're eating tomatoes for breakfast, then."

They were about to burst into laughter once more, but they stopped when they heard the turning of engines and the silent sputtering of water.

"We got the boat to work!" Tom cheered, and the others followed.

They all boarded the boat and eventually George figured out how to work the steering wheel. 

"George, why the heck are we on a boat?" Roy asked, popping open a can of tomatoes.

George turned the steering wheel a little, and the boat rocked. "Because we're the Traveling Wilburys, that's why."

They couldn't resist smiling at that.

******

"Hey George?"

"Yeah, Jeff?"

"I feel sick." Jeff was clutching his stomach.

"It's boat sickness. You'll be fine."

"George, I feel like throwing up."

"Throw up, then."

Jeff was panicking. "Where?"

"Over the side of the boat."

"Wait, I have a plastic bag that you can-" Roy said, but it was too late- Jeff was keeling over the side of the boat.

"George?"

"Yeah, Bob?"

"Where are we?"

"In the middle of the ocean."

"In the middle of the ocean where?"

George sighed. "I don't know."

"George?"

"What's up, Tom?"

"We're lost."

"We- we're not lost," George stammered, "We're just in the middle of nowhere."

Silence. Then, Bob. "George, do you have a map?"

George shook his head. "Nope."

Silence again. Then George again. "We're lost."

"We know," the rest of them chorused.

"While we're here, we might as well tell each other our deep and dark secrets," said Tom, but the idea was quickly vetoed.

"While we're here, we might as well go back because I feel sick," Jeff groaned. He was propped up against the side of the boat, trying to fight the nausea.

"Which way did we come from?" Tom wondered aloud.

"It was that way, I think," Bob pointed to the right.

"No, no, it was the left," Roy argued.

"Maybe it was the other way," Tom suggested.

"Hurry..." Jeff groaned, and then stood back up and keeled over the side of the boat once more.

"Sorry, Jeff," George said. "I'm pretty positive it was that way," he continued, pointing to the direction behind them.

"No, you're all wrong," Jeff said. "It was that way."

"George, listen to me. It was right," Bob repeated.

"No way, it was the left!"

"The other way, the other way!"

George rolled his eyes. "All right, I say we go with Jeff's choice, because he's the only one who's not arguing with everybody."

"We're gonna die..." Tom moaned, falling back against the bench.

George steered the boat in the direction that Jeff had pointed out. It took forever, but soon enough they could see land.

"Land ho!" Roy cheered.

Tom, Bob, and Jeff, who had long since fallen asleep, looked over at what Roy was pointing at. 

"It could be a dangerous tropical island," Tom said somberly.

"Or it could be our van," Bob pointed out. Sure enough, there was The Traveling Wilburys Van.

"We made it!" They all cheered at once as George pulled the boat in.

"So, how about another adventure?" George suggested as he helped the others out of the boat.

"No," they said firmly.

George glanced at his watch. "I think we have enough time for a-" He stopped in his tracks and looked at his watch again. "It's almost lunchtime!"

"Holy shite, the wife's gonna kill me!" Tom squeaked, clambering into the backseat. The others piled in hurriedly after him, and they ended going out on the highway at the speed of sound.

Ladies and gentlemen, The Traveling Wilburys. 

Me: Boy, what the hell was that?

George: It's a oneshot that you wrote in twenty minutes.

Me: Shut up, George. Our readers want quality. They don't want the truth.

George: *muttering* Pfft, quality, yeah.

Me: Huh?

George: Nothing, nothing at all.

Me: Anyway, while I kick George out of the room, I'm going to take this opportunity to ask you guys whether you like little oneshots like these. Thanks for reading!