“I am so confused,” Pirate Doug shouted, stomping his foot and causing the Pirate ship to bounce on the waves. “I can’t even remember why I’ve called you arses here with all the testicle talk.”
“Umm… you said we had a fucking problem,” I reminded my brother-in-law.
Pausing to gather his wits—or possibly grow some brain matter—Pirate Doug wrinkled his brow in concentration.
“Right!” he bellowed, startling us. “We have a Smacken issue—a big bad fucking Smacken issue.”
Everyone stayed silent mostly because we had no clue what the jackass was talking about.
Bonar raised his hand and waited to be called on.
“Yes?” Pirate Doug said.
“So ye mean we have to stop smacking each other?” he inquired politely.
“What?” Pirate Doug asked, now as confused as the rest of us.
“What in the motherhumpin’ seahorse is a Smacken?” I asked, getting straight to the point. We could be here for days if we had to decipher what the jackwad meant as opposed to what he actually said.
“Sweet shark in a leisure suit,” he yelled and stomped around the deck of his ship throwing a mini tantrum. “A Smacken is an enormous multi-legged, slimy, man eating, bulbous headed motherfucker that can multiply if it hits dry land. How do you idiots not know what a Smacken is?”
“You mean a Kraken?” I asked, trying not to laugh. Pirate Doug was an idiot of epic proportions, but he loved my sister and she loved him right back. We were stuck with him.
“That’s what I said,” he grunted with an enormous eye roll. “We have a Kraken problem.”
“But we killed the Kraken that attacked us six months ago,” Bony Velma pointed out.
“And apparently that’s the problem,” Pirate Doug explained. “The ugly bastards are pissed and plan to send an army of Flackens in retribution to destroy the Bermuda Triangle.”
“Krakens,” Tallulah corrected her mate.
“What?” Pirate Doug asked, perplexed.
“Nothing,” Tallulah replied. “So what do we do? Evacuate?”
“Nay, this is our island and we’re staying,” he replied and turned his attention to me for some bizarre reason. “I have reason to believe that there are Hacken Whisperers in the area.”
“Hacken Whisperers?” Bony Velma repeated. “What the hell are Hacken Whisperers?”
“I have no clue,” Pirate Doug said to his sister, but kept his eyes glued to me. “But my former cohort and outstanding drinking buddy, Pirate Sven the arsehole Crab Shifter says he knows of two imbeciles that can communicate with Yackens and other sea creatures.”
“Umm… why are you staring at me?” I asked. I mean I knew I had a clothespin on my nose, but so did everyone else except the Hags.
“Are you up for an adventure, Ariel?” he asked, squinting his eyes at me.
My stomach tingled and my eyes grew wide with excitement. I didn’t even care what the half-baked mission Pirate Doug had hatched in his pea brain was. The thrill of a dangerous escapade made me feel alive and worthwhile.
“I’ll do it,” I said with absolutely no knowledge as to what I’d just agreed to.
“Hold your clam shells,” Tallulah yelled. “What do you want Ariel to do? Is it dangerous?”
“Aye,” Pirate Doug said. “Potentially.”
“Why Ariel?” Tallulah demanded. “Why not one of the arses?”
“Why not me?” I snapped at my sister. I was tired of being thought of as the baby. I was a kick ass, deadly Mermaid and I wanted to get the heck off the island. I was the perfect choice. “You think I’m not capable?”
“Of what?” Tallulah shot right back. “You don’t even know what the plan is. This is a Pirate Doug plan. It could be a fucking disaster.”
“Was I just insulted?” Pirate Doug inquired.
“You were, sweetheart,” Tallulah confirmed and kissed his cheek.
“Roger that,” he said with a nod and a grin. “Just wanted to clarify.”
“I don’t care what redonkulous plan it is. I’m in and no one is going to stop me,” I announced.
“She’s a spicy hooker,” Bony Velma said with admiration. “I vote yes for Ariel.”
“Aye,” Bonar agreed. “Ariel is a thunderin’ bilge rat. Me thinks the wench is the right hooker for the job.”
“Thank you… I think,” I replied, unsure of what I’d just been called, but I didn’t care. Bonar was on my side even if he was a dumbass with missing fingers.
“Aye,” Thornycraft added his two cents—or one cent if you figured in his brain power capacity. “Ariel has the heart of an eyeliner wearin’ dinghy dangler. Scares the shite out of me. I vote yes for the blue haired swimming hooker.”
Upton simply nodded his head as his lips were still sealed shut.
“Before we send our baby sister off into the unknown, I’d like to know exactly what the unknown means,” Misty said, starring daggers at Pirate Doug. “If something happens to Ariel because you’re a gaping asscrack, I will make you rue the day you were hatched. You feel me?”
“Aye, I feel you. Pirate Sven says that the arses who can whisper to the Jacken are Selkies,” Pirate Doug explained. “We need to find the idiots.”
“So what?” Madison said. “Why does Ariel have to go? I don’t like it.”
“Well, I do like it,” I insisted, not wanting my sisters concern for me to destroy my chances of getting off the island and saving the day. “I’m doing it no matter what you guys think. Tell me the rest of the story, nardhole.”
“Is she talking to me?” Pirate Doug inquired.
“She is,” Tallulah said with a chuckle.
“Thought so,” he replied. “So when Tallulah was regaling me with stories about you hookers she mentioned that you’ve always liked the Selkies, Ariel.”
“Nope, I hate the Selkies,” I corrected him. Or to be more specific, I kind of hate-liked one Selkie in particular.
“Same difference,” Doug said, continuing. “The arsebucket, Sven, mentioned a name and it matched the name that Tallulah had shared. Sooooo… being the brilliant Vampire Pirate that I am, I added two and two together and gave the math problem to Upton who came up with five.”
“Not following,” I said, wincing at Pirate Doug’s idea of logic… and math.
“It means that there can’t be too many Selkies with the name Keith. As the legend goes, no two Selkies can have the same name. So since you most likely know the imbecile biblically, you are the one to find the arse and bring him back here to negotiate with the Gackens.”
My stomach lurched at the name Keith. He was the very bastard that still played a starring role in my pornographic dreams. The Selkie was also the assbucket who wanted me to do his laundry. Holy hell and seashells. The adventure was starting to sound fabulously horrifying.
“Is that true?” Bony Velma asked.
“That Ariel boinked the Selkie named Keith?” Pirate Doug asked.
“No, I figure that part is accurate being that all Mermaids are hookers,” Bony Velma replied. “How in Poseidon’s green hair do the Selkies not overlap names?”
“Me thinks they have a registry,” Thornycraft volunteered. “Hence the shite name Keith.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” I said before I could stop myself from defending the idiot Selkie who asked me to do his farking laundry. “What kind of name is Thornycraft?”
“It be a common name of me kind,” he replied.
There was a long silence. I could clearly see everyone was tempted to push the issue and discover the secret. Not really having much of a filter and somewhat lacking in the self- preservation department, I went for it.
“And what would your kind be?” I asked, dying to know what the arse actually was.
“Far too much information for anyone to handle at this juncture. The nard licking was enough for today,” Pirate Doug cut in with a shudder. “So back to the matter at hand.”
He paused and scratched his head
.
“What in Poseidon’s soused arse is the matter at hand?” Pirate Doug shouted, clearly having confused himself again.
“You want me to find that son of a bitch Selkie, Keith, castrate him, and then bring his sorry pathetic ass back to the island to negotiate with the Drakens so we still have an island to live on,” I replied in a single breath.
“Did I actually say that?” he asked, perplexed as he placed his hands firmly over his Johnson just in case I wanted a little practice before I dismembered the Selkie.
“You did,” I confirmed.
“Wait. What’s a Draken?” my brother-in-law demanded, eyeing me with confusion.
“I meant Kraken. My bad.”
“I should say so. Get your facts straight,” he replied with an eye roll. “So go find this Keith and drag his arse back here. However, for the sake of argument, let’s leave his bits out of the equation until we’ve solved the Zaken problem.”
“Fine. Where does he live?” I asked, deciding to ignore that Pirate Doug hadn’t gotten a fact straight since I’d known him.
“Near Sven,” Pirate Doug told me.
“And where does Sven live?”
“No clue,” he replied.
“Are you serious?” I asked annoyed.
“No, I’m Pirate Doug,” he replied.
We all mulled that one over in silence for a few minutes.
“Can you call Sven and ask his location?” Tallulah suggested, getting the conversation back on track.
“The old fart doesn’t have a cell phone. We usually communicate by messages in a bottle or homing pigeons. Takes months to get an answer from that ugly bastard,” Pirate Doug explained.
“Mmmkay,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “How exactly am I supposed to find the idiot Selkie then?”
“Fine question,” Pirate Doug said with a shrug.
Just when I was about to make my escape from the island it all fell apart in a split second. How could I have an adventure and castrate a Selkie if I couldn’t find him?
Wait… I had an idea. It was a shot in the dark, but it might just work.
Ask any tuna you happen to see… Who’s the smartest Mermaid? That would be me.
Maybe.
6
Keith
“That sucked,” I griped as I meticulously removed the last of the toilet paper from the enormous palm tree in the old Pirate’s yard.
“Like a big butt,” Kurt agreed as he plopped his tired ass down in the middle of the now pristine area.
While we were at it, we’d mowed the jackoff’s lawn and trimmed his bushes. I’d shaped the ones on the far left side of the property into a penis and testicles. It was hilarious. Kurt laughed so hard I had to pound on his back so he didn’t choke to death. Of course that led to an outstanding smack down. Our clothing was now ripped to shreds and we were both sporting black eyes and bloody lips. All in all it was a good time.
“You think he’ll feed us?” Kurt asked.
“As long as he doesn’t notice the dick in his yard, the chances are good,” I replied, sitting down next to my brother.
“I’ve been thinking,” Kurt said.
“Thinking is overrated,” I replied. “Do you think I should make a vagina out of the bushes on the right side of the yard for balance?”
“Umm… no. The dick is pushing it.”
“Fine point. Well made.”
We sat in silence as we pondered our next move.
“Dude, I’m not sure we have gifts,” Kurt whispered in a worried tone, picking apart a palm frond absently. “I mean, wouldn’t we have known by now? We’re over three hundred years old.”
While his observation was valid, I chose to ignore it. We were screwed at the moment, and if we didn’t have gifts we were screwed forever. Unacceptable.
“We’re great with the ladies,” I pointed out.
“Define great,” Kurt said. “As far as I can tell, we’re both still single.”
“Okay, fine. Give me a minute.”
What the hell were we good at? I was good at fighting. I could kick some major ass and so could Kurt. However, all Selkies were warriors. That didn’t make us special.
“We eat a lot,” I volunteered.
My brother said nothing.
“We’re well versed in Aquaman pop culture.”
Again… nothing.
“We can talk to fish and other sea creatures and actually understand what the freaks are saying,” I whispered.
“Don’t say that out loud. Makes us sound like weirdos,” Kurt whispered back and flicked me in the head. “It’s hard enough to explain to everyone that we’re vegetarians. We’ll never get laid if the ladies think we can talk to fucking fish.”
“Again—fine point, well made. Look, Poseidon told Mom that we had gifts. I’m banking on that and hoping the green-haired bastard wasn’t completely wasted when he shared that info. You feel me?” I said, trying to sound positive while getting a quick gut punch in on my brother.
“I guess,” Kurt said without a shred of enthusiasm as he caught his breath.
“The jacknard Pirate Crab said he knew what our gift was. So that stands to reason that we definitely have gifts—or at least a gift.”
“So what do we do?” Kurt asked.
“We gotta talk to the Pirate—again,” I replied with a small shudder.
“Shite.”
“Yep.”
* * *
“Thars a dick in me yard,” Sven roared, examining the phallic topiary with great displeasure.
“I have no idea how that happened,” I said, making no eye contact whatsoever. I stared at the leafy man tool and nards in complete and utter shock hoping it made my bullshit story more plausible. “It must have been Kurt.”
“That’s it,” Kurt grunted as he jumped me from behind and began to choke me. “That’s the last time you blame me for your shite.”
“Just go with it,” I snarled as I flipped my brother over my head and slammed him down on his back. “I’m trying to get us some food.”
“You know what?” Kurt shouted as he landed an excellent left hook to my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Mom was right. You’re an idiot.”
“Umm, pretty sure you have a hearing problem,” I informed him as I did a backflip and scissor kicked his head. “She said we’re both idiots.”
“Maybe we are,” Kurt said as he froze with his fist high in the air. “Wait. Are we?”
I stood ready to kick his legs out from underneath him, but paused. “Not sure.”
“I can confirm it for ye,” Pirate Sven said, shaking his head in disgust. “Yarr both eejits. Yarr mum was correct.”
“That’s kind of mean,” I muttered under my breath. Even if he was right, he didn’t need to rub it in. We’d been deserted by our parents and picked toilet paper out of trees for most of the day. I was feeling a little delicate at the moment.
“So what are yarr tar stains gonna do about it?” Pirate Sven.
“Umm…” I said, not sure what answer the Pirate was looking for.
If I answered wrong we might have to do more yard work. If I answered correctly, the gnarly bastard might feed us. Shite. Thinking wasn’t my forte.
“What would Aquaman do?” Kurt whispered to me.
There was a fine reason that when we fought I never killed my brother. His brilliance when we were backed into a corner was one of those reasons.
“We’re going to swim through the water like speeding fucking bullets and then lay on our backs make angels in the sand,” I told Pirate Sven.
“Nope,” he said and rolled his beady crab eyes. “Try again.”
“How about we balance out the yard and make a lady bits bush out of the bushes on the right side?” I suggested.
The left hook to my head from my brother confirmed that the lady bits bush offer was a bad one. Shite on a sharp seashell. This was difficult.
“Okay,” I said, wondering again if there was a right answer at all. “How about we’r
e not gonna be idiots anymore?”
The Pirate grinned—and I heaved a giant sigh of relief. The grin was pretty fucking scary, but being correct felt damned good.
“And how are ye going to do that?” Pirate Sven inquired.
Dang it, the chances of me being correct twice in a row were slim…
“No clue. However, some sustenance might help clear my brain,” I told him, going for avoidance and hoping for a small snack at the very least.
“Aye,” Pirate Sven said. “I’ll feed ye tar stains, but ye have a few more chores before supper. Go home and gather ye dirty clothes. We’ll be havin’ lobster for our evenin’ meal.”
The enormous Crab Shifter turned on his heel of his boot and slammed the front door leaving Kurt and me shocked to silence. A rare occurrence indeed, but right now we were in a pickle.
“Is the Crab gonna do our laundry?” Kurt inquired rocking back and forth on his feet in a slight panic, studiously ignoring the real problem.
“Doubtful,” I mumbled as I paced the lawn and tried to figure out what in Poseidon’s drunk ass we should do next.
“Maybe Lisa Bonet is here and she’s doing laundry,” Kurt added, lamely. “Or maybe not.”
“I’m gonna go with not,” I shot back, running my hands through my hair and wondering how hard Sven punched. “This is bad. It’s really bad.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Kurt said and began to pace behind me. “What are we going to do?”
“There’s only one thing to do,” I told him.
“It’s too dangerous,” Kurt choked out. “Maybe we just let it go and never come back here again.”
“Do you hear yourself, man?” I shouted, shaking my brother and then kneeing him in the nards. “The Crab knows our gift—we don’t. We have to play his game or we’re screwed. But now we’re talking murder here. I can’t have the blood of an innocent on my head.”
“True,” Kurt agreed in a high-pitched squeal as he rolled around the yard cupping his nuts. “How can we save them?”
“It’ll be tricky. The Crab Pirate is fucking huge, I don’t know the layout of his house and I have no clue how many are trapped inside,” I replied.
Ariel’s Antics Page 4
