Teatime on the high seas
A cover image will be added later due to internet limitations.
The pirates appeared out of nowhere, interrupting Commodore Teddward St. Teddington’s luncheon with characteristic rudeness and a severe lack of consideration for his scones. Luckily, the delicate floral-patterned china teacup proved to be an adequate weapon in a pinch, and his first mate Raug Doll quickly moved to help him. Raug was an imposing figure, thickset, heavily muscled with hair that hung in lank reddish-orange ropes over a face that had seen too many fists and was flatter than a piece of hardtack. Many a ruffian had turned tail and fled when she lumbered into the fray, but these pirates were either braver than most or more foolhardy.
The two ships ground against each other, the creak and groan of wood under strain buzzing under the Commodore’s teeth. It would be a close match, this one, and time was short. The sun lay fat and orange on the horizon, like a grapefruit spilling juice over the tablecloth of the sea. They would need to end this fast.
A few swings with his cutlass, and it quickly became apparent that these foes were more heavily armoured than most. Blows which should have felled them were laughed off, accompanied by high-pitched mockery delivered and pinpoint ripostes. Raug was forced to retreat under the vicious onslaught, brought down by sheer numbers.
Luckily, Commodore St. Teddington was not without surprises of his own.
Cupping his hands, the Commodore let out a rattling yell, half a shout, half a growl that rumbled through the air like thunder. And what was thunder without lightning?
The waters around the ship began to bubble and roil, tossing flotsam this way and that. The two ships pitched hard against each other; Raug stumbled to the railing, clutching her head as a loose bit of wood cracked into her head. But she was quickly up again, grin fixed wide across her face as the behemoth rose.
Giant squid were hard to come by and rarely seen alive at the surface - to be this far out of its depth, this one must be truly special. And it was. A baby kraken threw itself at the enemy, heavy tentacles swiping pirates from the deck with wild abandon. The enemy captain, a short, scowling brute with snot crusted on his left nostril and the complexion of a beetroot, had barely enough time to squeal ‘no fair!’ before he copped a face-full of squid. Kraken. Whichever.
Commodore St Teddington stood his unsteady deck, looming over his fallen foe. Around them - carnage. Shattered weapons, the Commodore’s finest teapot missing its lid, the decks of both ships torn and uneven.
“Surrender!”
“Never!”
With a sneer, the piratical knave gave a short, sharp whistle. The Commodore winced at the sound, then frowned. What was the point of that? There had to be some goal - his adversary’s broad grin told him that much.
“Taste pterodactyl teeth, numbskull!” the pirate captain yelled, scrambling to his feet and grabbing his sword.
“Boys! Dinnertime! Down you come!”
Dimitri and Edward paused mid-swing, one holding a foam swimming noodle, the other brandishing a much-loved teddy with a red woollen waistcoat. Their beds lay at haphazard angles, butting against each other with covers strewn across the floor and stuffed toys buried in the mess. An orange haired rag-doll with button eyes and a stitched on smile lay half buried beneath six commando action figures.
“Coming!” yelled Dimitri, taking a final swing at Edward, the pool noodle bouncing off his brother’s face to land on his bed.
“You’re just scared of my giant squid.”
“Nu-uh!” Dimitri stuck out his tongue as he tugged his brother downstairs, following the tantalising smell of cooking food. “My pterodactyl could eat your kraken, easy.”
“Could not! He has anti-pterodactyl laser cannons on his tentacles!”
“Well, mine has anti-laser cannon cannons on his wings, so thhhhbpt!” And with a last wet, loud raspberry they set aside their rivalry to enjoy their tea.
