Staff Writers




StilletoEye and RazorGut drove Betsy, their sleek black 55 Cadillac, through the port. Either side, rough, unshaven brutish men, aged with scars, were hauling barrels and crates onto ships and hoisting ropes and running and shouting. The salty air wasn’t good for the car, but they’d soon have it covered, once they found a ship.

They soon found one with room enough in the hold for Betsy and a Captain willing to take them on as passengers, for a price. The Malarkey was carrying whiskey to the Americas, both of which suited StilletoEye and Razor Gut just fine.

By the time they’d stashed and tarpaulined Betsy and been shown to their cabin, the ship was well under way and the shore just a distant smudge on the horizon.

The wood creaked and groaned as it swayed and bobbed, and water lashed the small cabin window violently. They struggled to eat their cheeseburgers and milkshakes in the tumult, but managed to keep them down against the nauseating rocking. They both tried to sleep, but the noise and turmoil kept them both miserably tossing until, a few hours later, the sea became still and silent, save for the sound of voices on the deck. They went up to see the night and meet the crew.

Under the starry sky, they laughed and joked over several bottles of rum with the crew. The sailors sang them their shanties, and StilletoEye and RazorGut sang them Louis Jordan songs, although the crew found them utterly alien…when they showed off their tattoos, the sailors were in awe of their colouring and detail compared to their rough homemade anchors and refused to believe that the pair were not treasured as famous art works.

And so they laughed and drank until many were passing out from drink and the lookout’s slumped snores carried right across the ocean. Suddenly there was a distant rumbling and the sea around the ship began to froth ferociously. Almost immediately, the captain, who was one of the last to be up drinking with StilletoEye and RazorGut, jumped to and started roaring the crew to their feet. Several harpoons were grabbed and the whole crew rushed to the side of the ship by the commotion.

A great beast raised high above them all, tentacles enveloping the whole sky, barnacles dripping from unspeakably numerous orifices, foul and unearthly. There began a tremendous commotion as flintlocks were discharged and a volley of harpoons, rocks, tables, tankards, daggers and stools were hurled at the creature. It roared and came crashing down on the deck, instantly devastating half the ship and taking the entire crew down to the briny deep with it.

The ship began its steep descent after them, and StilletoEye and RazorGut, quickly ran to the hold. Thankfully Betsy, and the whiskey, was in the half still above surface. They broke a rudimentary raft off the already splintered floorboards and threw themselves, and a few barrels for luck, into the car.

As the ship finally disappeared into the depths, they drifted on. As long as the creature didn’t come back, and they somehow drifted to shore, they’d be fine.

At least there was plenty to drink.

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