Then I recognized him. Wasn’t he the guy who blacked-out the whole community and electrocuted the teacher? He looked SO much like my friend in school. It was evident that he was, because he yelled, “Bob Bee! Is that you?! The ol’ Bob Junior of Bob Bee Land is back to bob around!” That was my typical friend, hairy (it’s true!) Harry Haer. We used to be the target of bullies when we were young at school, with our weird names.
After that encounter, we were old friends again. One day, hairy old Harry Haer fell sick, so he left the ship to his first mate. I was traipsing around in the kitchen trying to find the raspberry pastry he bought for me. It was really awesome, and I also needed to present fried polka-dotted scorpion as a new delicacy to the chief cook. I found the cook, with his butt wagging at me as he scrubbed dishes. I cleared my throat and said, “Mr. Cook, I have found that fried—” I stopped. The cook had turned around, and it was Mr. Guess Who Sr. It seemed, though, he did not recognize me. I turned around and fled, tossing the scorpion at him, yelling, “That thing’s yummy! The captain has got more scorpion!”
I raced to my cabin to get my stash of scorpion. And the guy who was making my bed was Mr. Guess Who Jr. I grabbed my stash and fled once again. I bumped into the first mate on the way, and it was Mr. I Love Guess Who. I ran into the captain’s cabin, slammed the door, and deposited the stash on his bed. This was way too much for me.
I told the captain about these notorious villains. Together, we worked up a plan. We stayed up until midnight, with the security guards of the boat. At midnight, we snuck into their cabin. The cabin boy, now a servant, was snoring so loudly one of the guards tried to leave. The first mate was hogging a huge bed of gold with exclusive silks and fox fur. He probably forced the chef to sleep on a tiny, smelly, dirty, greasy little bed that was much too small for the chef. In minutes, they were tied up, and the guards got them to tell the story.
“Well, I was planning to become a captain with my best friend, a world-famous cook, alongside of me,” started the first mate. “He just needed a little more experience, and I just needed to become a first mate. After that, I could become a captain. We wanted to set up our own cruise ship. Unfortunately, little Ignacio here was born at that time, so—” “No! We want the real story! NOW!!!!” cried one guard. So began the real one. The cook spoke. “I live a life of crime. I stole from my rich, snooty parents, from my donkey of a cousin, from my bugger of a mayor, and yeah, the list goes on. That’s how I got Ignacio here, he was the mayor’s nephew. And I’m gonna stop right there.” No matter what we did, he wouldn’t say a word. Lucky for us, Ignacio was so dumb, he thought it was story-telling time. He continued as the cook wriggled helplessly, trying to make his son stop talking.
“Yaw, an’ I really don’t wanna be here, ya know, but I gotta. So, they were way too lazy, don’t wanna git a proper, hard-workin’ job. So they thought up of a plan, an’ I’m gonna tell y’all, ’cause it’s story-tellin’ time! Yay! They boarded tons of ships, lookin’ all over for jobs as first mate an’ cook, an’ brought me on board to help. Occasionally, I’d find a job for m’self, too, ya know. They secretly steer the boat to that cannibal island. Sometimes, they have t’ drug the cap’ain, t’ git the boat t’ that island. The big sea always looks the same in most cases, right? I threw our last cap’ain overboard, ya know, an’ they throw the useless on the island. Then they sell the boat for a milli’n cents! Then they wiggle their fingers, an’ use the shiny money! We’ve killed 20 so far!”
I thought about it, not knowing whether to kill them or not. Suddenly, I got a light bulb. “Ignacio, Ignacio’s kidnapper, and Ignacio’s kidnapper’s best friend forever—” “That’s a girly term,” screamed the first mate. “Whatever,” I replied calmly. “Best friend forever, BFF, Notorious villain colleague in act, I don’t care. Mr. BFF, will you please calm yourself down! Breathe in and out slowly, count to ten. Now, for all the lives you three have wasted away right under my nose, there must be justice. You three have killed 20 lives, now 20 lives shall kill you three. Oh yeah, I counted twenty cannibals on the island”
We were about to throw them on the island, through the cannons, when I thought of something. I grabbed a log from my raft and wrote, “Hello Doodooda. This is from the guy who you stole the rowboat from in order to go fishing. Kill these guys right away, they’re slippery. They’re fat anyways. By the way, those skitters are good.”
I tied the three to the log, and we watched as the log drifted towards shore. I started yelling. “Goodbye! Enjoy your time!” And I never heard from them again.