It could have lasted an eternity.  In all, two minutes and twenty five seconds elapse, and in that time Captain Traumatic sees an enormous, all-encompassing light which he mistakes for heaven.  I’ll be damned, he thinks, paradise!  I’ve missed out on the tunnel.  It’s far too bright in here: my eyes are closed and I’m still holding my breath, and in all honesty, I know that evil darkness of biblical proportions should be my lot because this is what I’m made for and—.


Who the fuck is this calling the Captain thinks.  Here, here it is Labaguette, Labaguette before and after: with and without wings.  A stumbling bird singing songs that click and clack.  Oh but here is the King and hey, oh!  He must have called.  Here, right here, the love of my life, my kindred soul, where art though oh thee roaming Princess?  Who called?  I miss you, me strong and silent travelling companion from before the beginning of time, my dearest Insatiable Princess.  Who called?  Will you be waiting for me?  Are you lost, wandering the skies of—.


This time, the wake-up call comes with a splash and the instantly recognisable taste of rum on the Captain’s lips.

“Birdseye! So this is what a dark tunnel looks like.  Made it to hell, didn’t we?”

“Quiet, Captain!”

Birdseye’s goggles are glowing of a fading orange light.  He is holding a small metallic rod in his hand and a myriad of tiny metallic roots coming out of soil and rock walls are sniffing that rod.

To be continued…


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