“Stop this!”  The Captain insists as Labaguette whispers something about rum in the Captain’s ear.

“Spinostress was a living nightmare living her own despicable dream, if you can call it a dream.” The King explains.

“Precisely,” Chloroph says, “the Hook of dreams reversed her disorder for some time.”

“Nightmares,” the Captain points out.

“For some time, huh?” Jimmy asks.

“There are no strict rules, any state can be altered permanently or not, depending on the experiment.”

“What about us?” the Captain retorts, absorbing a soothing dose of his preferred, golden beverage, “we were part of the experiment, in what way are we affected?”

“You?  Oh you…”

“What planet do I live on?” the queen asks.

“Depends,” Labaguette says, ‘it bloody well depends, depends, depends—“

An empty bottle nearly misses the parrot’s left cheek and he disappears, hiding.

“So, where are the monkeys?” he can be heard asking from a distance.

The guards rally to stand behind what remains of their previous commander, sensing what remains of her power, needing comfort through being commanded, urged, dominated and not having a choice.

“You!” the old queen asks the King, “who are you exactly?”

“I am King Krackskull, ruler of the She-Coat and of the She-Coat planet.  My throne is empty far away and beyond and awaits me.”

“What else have you lost?”

“My crown is missing.  It must be found.”

“An exiled King is a powerless one.  You are destitute.”

“For now.”

“Your crown is lost, so is your throne.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Have we met?”

“Not on my planet.”


“My memory is contained within my crown.”

“Find another excuse.”

To be continued…


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