“We will be saved,” the Captain says.

“ENOUGH!” Spinostress bellows, looking at the star passing by, “cut the Captain’s finger off and on with it!” she orders, “we’ve already wasted far too much time”.

“What are you trying to achieve?” he asks, “you’ve got the monkeys, you no longer need us, let us go.”

Spinostress guards are holding the Captain and pressing hard on his index finger.  If he tried to retract it, they’d sure break it.  It’s better for pain to be incurred once rather than twice at short intervals Captain Traumatic thinks, as he gives up on any form of resistance.

“The Captain hasn’t all his wits about him,” Labaguette says, in a last ditch attempt to save his master’s finger.

“Catch the damn, evil bird and cut his throat!” Spinostress commands.

But Labaguette, his wings carrying him fast and faster anywhere he wishes, hides and stays put.

“Huh!” Captain Traumatic exclaims as the King musters a smile.

Now Spinostress waves one of her malefic tentacles in the air and slams it onto the Captain’s index finger.

“That’s one finger lost in space, and no one, you hear me?  No one will ever retrieve it for you.  No such business any more, monkey or not.  Next comes your throat.  Is that clear?”

Captain Traumatic winces and falls to his knees.  Pain will be conquered he firmly wants to believe, once he can overcome the sight of his own blood squirting out.  His other hand, now free, reaches deep inside his ragged jacket and pulls a half-empty bottle of rum which he tips down in his throat before pouring on his bloody stub.

To be continued…


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