It must be he who misled the Captain onto the flat, mundane and immoral path.  Unless, it takes two?  Hey, who needs guilt when survival is essential?  As to the burden of one’s feathers, it is far too heavy.  To hell with death, he attempts to convince himself once more.  I shall be the hero the Captain’s always wanted me to be but didn’t know I could be.

Yeah, the Books Planet had something to do with it and there might have been more letters to the alphabet than thought in the first place.  Besides, the Hooks were heavily involved and he shouldn’t have dreamed of anything.  Then, there was Mouton Blanc, he shouldn’t have, you know?  He didn’t do wrong.  Pas ma faute.  Not my fault.  Nopey, nope, nope, nope.  Non.  By now, had everything gone well and truly better, he could be feasting on his favourite rum soaked grains from the comfort of the Captain’s small, damp cabin or from atop his preferred wind swept mast, and this from the beginning of time as he’d been meant to, right?  Good food and a roof to protect him from the elements, from the wilder than wild wilderness that required action, heroic action.  One day, Mum will witness my star rising high above the skies of the Hexagonal Holly Woods I was born into, wherever she maybe: it shall brighten her skies and she will seek me.

“You on drugs?”  The Policeman inquires, knocking Labaguette back into this unanticipated, horrendous reality.

“I’d—“ Labaguette starts, staring into Colonel Loga’s eyes looking for certainty and comfort and finding none, preferring to close his eyelids and give up.

To be continued…


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