“Suppose you do, I—”
“—It was a miracle.”
“Some exaggeration even by Labaguette’s standards.”
“It was real.”
“What was? Speak!”
“The Syck Monkey.”
“He’s real, no miracle here.”
“So he caught you and brought you back?”
Chloroph merely nods and the Captain explodes in a fit of yet unmatched hilarity.
“HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! You made my day, Chloroph. You truly did.”
“Don’t make fun of the Syck Monkey. He is real. He saved me as my seed grew and flourished.”
“He got caught in a time warp or some kind of portal and one of your hooks saved him? Or is it the reverse?”
“The Syck Monkey can travel through anything without being affected by anything.”
“The Syck Monkey constitutes a far-fetched reality.”
“It doesn’t matter what I say. If you want this to be a lie, be it. You chose your own reality, I’ve nothing to do with it.”
“Finally some truth from you, Captain: how could such god-like creature, such myth as the Syck Monkey decide to save someone like me?”
Labaguette perches unexpectedly on the Captain’s shoulder.
“Colonel Loga is dead,” the parrot says, smiling.
“Who released you, dumb bird of mine?”
“I bring good news.”
“We must hurry,” Chloroph says, “your daft parrot is saying we still have a second or two.” Rushing through the wide selection of soaked ropes, Chloroph pinches the edges of an extended rope, pulls it sharply before the entire sheet rolls upon itself.
Chloroph buckles under the weight of the roll and the Captain clutches one of its wooden sides. Together they carry it back to the Colonel whose body has turned purple.
To be continued…