“It’s Chloroph’s idea,” the old woman says, show some respect.”

“I’m the Captain here, why did you follow the order of a good to nothing plant merchant?”

“Yes, Why?” the parrot repeats.

“LABAGUETTE!  By the God of devilishly unfortunate feathers!  You left Mouton Blanc on his own?  Weren’t you having your picture taken? GET OUT!”

“What is wrong with my feazers?” Labaguette mutters, trying his best not to appear alarmed nor displeased.

“There can only be ONE Captain on this ship!” Captain Traumatic continues, drawing his sword as if he might slice the bird in two equal parts.”

“Cracks, there are cracks in holes, tiny holes, holes, more holes, holes everywhere,” the old woman explains.

“ARE YOU STILL HERE?” the Captain asks the parrot who at once flies off never to come back, at least for now, knowing he’ll enjoy Mouton Blanc’s company more than he’d first thought.

“There wasn’t another seed left in Chloroph,” the Captain continues.

“Chloroph would have an emergency,” the King tries, “he would have had at least one seed hidden underneath his skin.”


“I know.”

Down in a spiral the Captain walks, then runs.  Down, down to the bottom of the ship.  Clarity and cleanliness will be gotten.  No one in a healthy frame of mind hides anything under their skin.  It’s ghoulish and disgusting.  Best is to confront the treacherous lunatic who led the Insatiable Princess where it’s at now: full of invading, pervasive plants of unknown origin that could entrap them here for eternity.

To be continued…


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