“May be you fell in some time warp or else it was just one of the Universe’s trap doors.”
“Time warp and trap doors, huh?”
“You’re a cultural black hole, I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Fair enough. And since you know the better-of-it-all, then you might begin to understand the sinewy pathways that led me to being named ‘Captain Traumatic’”.
“’Sinewy pathways?’ I’ll be damned! I assume you’re repeating what Labaguette teaches you at the best of time. Besides, none of this explains the traumaticity of it all.”
Finally, they reach the ship, the King sweating profusely.
“Now, get me some of our best rum, Labaguette.”
“But Capitaine, you can’t drink in your condition.”
“Since when do you care about my health, Labaguette?”
“I thought rum was good for you,” the King wonders.
“It all depends,” the Captain says.
“It’s probably quite similar to some of your coat substances,” Labaguette adds.
“In that case, it’s deadly.”
Now the Captain is laughing.
“This is no laughing matter, Captain. My ignorance is no laughing matter in view of your own and consider this: Fur coat can still swallow your entire ship, even from a distance.”
Labaguette comes back holding a small cup of rum which he brings to the Captain’s lips. The Captain doesn’t hesitate, feels the cup with his fingers and gulps most of its contents in one go, leaving a few drops for the King to taste.
To be continued…