I Promise I Will Not Donate Any of the Proceeds of This Miniseries to Worthwhile Charities
Predator Press
[LOBO]
hump-wrrrrrrrr!
Starboard.
Captain Jim “The Jury” Portre paced his deck pensively, and the sound was excruciating. The seasoned Captain, missing his right leg below the knee, had a peg as pirates do. But on his good foot, he had taken to wearing a rollerblade.
Captain Portre pointed his rollerbladed toe and inspected it casually. From the corner of his mouth he mumbled, “What kind of vessel was the Sea Nile?”
“Yes I did,” replied the mermaid. “When he told you ‘I’ll bite your balls off if you get near the treasure,’ I explained to you that he was a Yorkshire Terrier.”
“Well he’s not a British aristocracy. He’s a dog.”
[LOBO]
hump-wrrrrrrrr!
Starboard.
Captain Jim “The Jury” Portre paced his deck pensively, and the sound was excruciating. The seasoned Captain, missing his right leg below the knee, had a peg as pirates do. But on his good foot, he had taken to wearing a rollerblade.
-Captain Jim “The Jury” Portre has been clocked at 35mph.
Thump-wrrrrrrrr!
Stern.
Stressed and sleepless, the sound was impossible to ignore. Only Vetter, nestled comfortably in a nest of comically large-seeming rope, snoozed deeply. Even Nuk and Futz clocked the Captain, Max, and Brighta warily.
The captain, staring into the brilliant nighttime horizon, gave deep sigh to the salty air.
Max, balancing a long dagger on his fingertip, never took his eyes off of Brighta as he addressed the Captain.
“The treasure is there,” he assured.
Brighta, arrow knocked, eyed Max with cool regard. Brighta could put three arrows in Brighta before he could close the distance between them. The Captain, however, kept pacing between them, making this geometrically a white-knuckled triangle of potential combatants. It occurred to Brighta that Max was probably clocking the Captain more than letting on too.
“I’m confident this is true,” replied the Captain with almost a sarcastic lack of conviction.
Thump-wrrrrrrrr!
Bow.
“We’re lost,” mumbled Portre softly to the masthead –a wooden mermaid, tail deep in foam, rising before the cloven sea. Pivoting on his peg, he leaned back to watch his unwitting hostages -mostly to ensure they were not listening.
Captain Portre pointed his rollerbladed toe and inspected it casually. From the corner of his mouth he mumbled, “What kind of vessel was the Sea Nile?”
“It’s unclear,” replied the mermaid.
Portre guffawed and spat. “I am weary of your ambiguity.”
“Ambiguity? You've sailed seven with no food on a map a dog gave you.”
“You never told me First Mate Noodlecakes was a dog.”
“You never told me First Mate Noodlecakes was a dog.”
“Yes I did,” replied the mermaid. “When he told you ‘I’ll bite your balls off if you get near the treasure,’ I explained to you that he was a Yorkshire Terrier.”
“Well he’s not a British aristocracy. He’s a dog.”
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