The ocean should be made of custard. On a purely practical level, it would be tastier and more nutritious than sea water. On a more idealistic level: a custard sea! Huzzah! With little gummi fish! (The fish would have to be gummi fish. Otherwise they’d drown. Normal fish can’t breathe custard! That’s a silly idea.)
Gummi fish wouldn’t be the only wonders of a custard sea. There’d be white chocolate reefs and a Bermuda’s Triangle made of deadly meringue. Would the sailors consume it or would it consume them? You’d never know. Not without going there!
Most of all, there’d be little candied fruits suspended in the custard. And you know what that would mean?
An end to scurvy IN OUR TIME.
There are potential problems. For one thing, the water cycle would suffer some disruption. Sometimes, it would rain water. Other times, custard. Windshield wiper technology would need improvement. Also, Jaws would be less impressive. The shark would be made of jelly. The shark would bite people. SMUSH! It would get itself all over their skin. SMUSH! ICK! No wonder it had to die. But still, less scary.
If eating custard turns out to make you pregnant, as some scholars hypothesize, then the custard sea would exacerbate the world’s population problem. It’d be hard to keep the sailors from eating custard. It’d be RIGHT THERE. Unlike sex, custard does not discriminate—men would be just as vulnerable as women! The nations of the world would bulge with our custard children. Small countries with significant navies would be forced to become imperial powers, simply to disburse their excess population—you couldn’t keep them at home!
The custard ocean theory at last gives a reputable scholarly explanation for Atlantis’ sinking. They wanted more convenient access to the custard. “Custard will help our population problem and give us a sugar buzz,” they said. “So let’s submerge our island in it! As the most advanced civilization in the world, we can do just that.” They set off the culinary bombs. BANG! Atlantis sank into the sea.
“Wait,” said the Atlanteans. “The ocean appears to be made of salt water.”
“Oh, man,” they all said. “Did we ever screw up.”
There was a pause. “We can’t eat this.”
Another pause. “I bet,” an Atlantean ventured, quietly, “that if you trained shadows as ninjas, they could hide in themselves.”
Atlanteans were never very good at staying on topic. It’s a problematic personality trait.