Except, perhaps, for those creatures who believe they are the ‘chosen ones’, willing to take on the cloak of universal compromise for the sake of adulation and prosperity, and willing to risk it all for a crown: a destiny where losing a crown is one of unspeakable horror.  The King knows this.  Every King knows this.

Labaguette eyes look as if they are about to pop out of their sockets and his feathers are puffed up.  Still, his eyes are staring, fixed into those of the monkeys, looking at them with such vigour that the monkeys become restless, on edge, and frightened.  What is there to understand they wonder?  There can’t be anything to understand except that of a King’s insanity.

“Don’t get any closer,” the King retorts to all those attempting to stop him, “else I’ll make it snappy.”

“What’s got into you?” the Captain insists.

“Hook madness,” Chloroph suggests.

The King’s long, aristocratic and elegant fingers stretch to envelop the parrot’s neck as if he were slowly relishing every second the strangling session was bringing, shaking his head sideways, threateningly at the Captain and Chloroph.

“Get on with it!” Spinostress says, “I haven’t much time, make my day!”

All of a sudden, three monkeys begin to stretch white ropes that are being made right here,  right now, that keep extending straight out of a never seen before orifice: out of their own tails, wrapping them around Spinostress neck and squeezing, fast and tight, before her tentacles are able to reach and disable them.

To be continued…



As the Captain returns to his musing, he wishes he could have a conversation, a debate with that monster: if only Spinostress agreed to a death row prisoner express his last thoughts, he could convince her to look at things the way he does, especially when it comes to nightmares and real life turning into them.  But Labaguette deciphers Captain Traumatic’s wandering thoughts; your timing is inappropriate, Captain, he thinks as he escapes from the jacket and flies off to perch on the King’s shoulder, only to start whispering into his ear.  Soon, the King looks back into the parrot’s eyes with a baffling and unfathomable spark of luminous intensity etched onto his face before he grabs Labaguette’s neck and begins to squeeze it, slowly, confidently, inexorably, taking great care as Labaguette puts on the greatest show of the universe (at least in his mind’s eye).

“RELEASE HIM AT ONCE!” Captain Traumatic orders, shocked.

“I’m peckish,” the King retorts.  Spinostress grins.  There’s nothing more gratifying than that of a spectacle where enemies are killing each other mercilessly and for reasons no one can understand.

Labaguette’ eyes roll backward, his wings, neck and legs go limp.  He’s always known that center stage is where he is meant to be and one day, for sure, he will.  By now, all believe that yet another universal King has lost it, that the trauma of losing one’s crown has a lot to answer for and that as far as Kings have it, Kingdoms aren’t what they used to be: thrones that come by on offer are few and rare as well as best left alone.

To be continued…


“Our dreams and hopes,” she continues, “cannot ever be held in contempt again.  Nightmares of all kinds must be eradicated.  You are a dream.  We are THE dream.  We are the living proof of a dream come true.  And for those of you who have not experienced the type of nightmare I lived through, may my experience be a lesson to you all: be aware at all time that nightmares of the worst kind can turn into daily realities that stay on forever, leading to a life where there are no leaders such as I, resulting in lack of food and bonus points.”

“Bonus points?” Labaguette whispers in Captain Traumatic’s ears.

“Rum”, the Captain retorts, “and rough seas”.

“Ah,” Labaguette answers.

“Let us rejoice,” she asserts, “into the public sacrifice of Chloroph the weak, a liar, a treacherous peasant and floral sorcerer born out of the reality of nightmares.  There is no such thing as a healthy seed or hook.  Let us rid of the poison that infiltrates our dreams.  Let us rid of Chloroph, the Captain, the King and of their damned fucking bird.”

“Mind your language!” Labaguette utters.

Captain Traumatic snatches the parrot and shoves him into his pocket.

Chloroph has had many lives and he knows this one isn’t about to end: she’s tried exterminating him before.  He’ll escape again.  Empowered by his unexpected successes escaping ominous and untimely deaths through various forms of execution, Chloroph decides it is time to earnestly plan ahead, quickly and efficiently.

To be continued…


If he could, the Captain would take his time to kick, punch and throw Chloroph out of the ship.  But now isn’t the right time.  Surely, the chance will come.  There’s hope, there’s always hope, except that—.

One blow to the Captain’s head stops his thoughts in their track and he falls on the ship’s deck after one of Spinostress’ guards decides it were best to shut him down, thoughts and all, along with his companions, for the duration of the trip back to the dark planet.  Besides, they shouldn’t know their way around these skies.  Labaguette, hidden, remains watchful and ingests all that is happening around him.  It isn’t long before he begins fluttering about, squawking and screeching with every intention to wake up his slumbering lot, under the watchful eyes of the monkeys, until they recover and pretend to remain unconscious.

Their destination reached and before they step out of the Insatiable Princess onto solid grounds, Spinostress addresses her peers from above, the Insatiable Princess’ height providing an effective podium:

“—There’s no time to waste”, she says, “much has changed since we left and we must unite to restore the undisputed dominant reputation and brilliance this planet once enjoyed: your planet, our planet, MY planet as it once was and will be again.  Dangerous traitors, spies and enemy of all kinds such as this creature (she points at Chloroph), must be exterminated and each and every particles of their remains, split and disintegrated into bare nothingness.”

To be continued…


It only takes one Jimmy to look at the Captain and his companions, then stare into the Captain’s eyes, raise a thumb and:

“Hey…” the Captain utters when he realises far too late there is nothing he can say as Jimmy turns his back on him, takes his seat back into the bus, starts the engine only to disappear into the darkness he came from, summoning shadows that come to envelop the entire fleet of buses for eternity.

“Surely,” the Captain continues, “surely we will finish that conversation.”

“They’re gone,” Labaguette utters, mirroring his master’s thought, that of an unresolved and unacceptable truth.

“Don’t you wish—“

“—ALL ABOARD!” Spinostress yells, taking them all by surprise as she resumes her original shape and personality, three young monkeys tightly bound to her neck by heavy unbreakable white chains.  She calls for a rally and her army of ugly spider like creatures, mutant scarab-crabs and stone-amoeba of all kinds take the Insatiable Princess over, leading her crew once more into the claws of a planet they wish they’d never see again.

Chloroph winks at the Captain.

“What?” the Captain asks, fed up with the traitor whose pretentious stance for all things natural and organic turned into the creation of an utterly abnormal monster of sorts and, for the Captain, the conception of an unending battle against the use of unknown molecules that could lead to the disintegration of universes as he understands them.

“Trust me, I know the way of the plants,” Chloroph insists, reading the Captain’s thoughts.

To be continued…


So it goes that the humongous fleet of yellow buses escorts the Insatiable Princess back to Spinostress’ obscure and gloomy planet.  There comes a time of subdued good byes, veiled not only by the yellow buses world of shadows but by fear and weariness, especially for Captain Traumatic.  Back to square one, he thinks; is all that has been happening the product of his imagination?  He knows that deep, deep down within the confinement of the tiniest cell of his body, of what may be his soul, that he isn’t dreaming and that, if rum flowed in abundance, he’d be able to get by.  Then, and only then, he could stop dreaming of a peaceful life trading rum, of pillaging other ships and selling misappropriated properties.  He remembers and longs for past days of independence.  If only he’d been given the opportunity to grow into his job and give it a good go.  If only, he’d been given the chance to morph into a fearsome, relentless and powerful pirate of a kind with a real name attached to it.  Only trouble now, is that aside the earlier unexpected fall past the horizon line, he owns two brains and this fact alone is more burdensome he’s ever thought it’d be.  What with his fast scanning ability, the new found memories and philosophies attached to them, he’d—“

“—ALL ABOARD!” Jimmy yells, and many a Jimmy’s voice to repeat “ALL ABOARD! ALL ABOARD! ALL ABOARD!” as it echoes into infinity, jolting the Captain out of his musing.

To be continued…


“My planet is this way,” Spinostress says, pointing in one direction, “this is where we’re headed.  Any complaints?”

Getting back there takes them about three earth days.  The trip is more or less uneventful: the Captain is back on the bottle, King Krackskull longs for meaning and power, incessantly pacing the bridge and Labaguette enjoys a well-deserved rest (or so he believes), sleeping in a knotty bed unintentionally formed by the ropes inside the ship.  Chloroph ponders and wonders what is to become of him. How will he ever be able to get back into the creative spirit and build more hooks?  He could escape, grab a seed from his pocket and disappear into another hook.  Trouble is, he needs others’ adulation and aside the pride, it would be good for those others to learn from his inventiveness and tap into his genius, even if it sometimes has to turn into nightmares and deadly dead ends.  After all, there always comes a time when everyone learns from their mistakes and the past is the past.  Also, there’s always a string of suited applicants for a hero’s job to save the day when needed, no matter the ending.

As to Spinostress and her guards, they do not revert to their old evil forms, except for a short and spontaneous fleeting seconds at a time and the monkeys fail to reappear consistently.

To be continued…

PART 251