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Art | Fiction | Music | Animations | Scripts | Comics | Games | Sheet music

The Sovereign of Monkey Island
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Chapter Two (c): The Pirate Ship of the Thing©

Marley pulled himself away from the burning mansion as best as he could in his condition. He was still in a bad shape after the burns from LeChuck, and it seemed like this was the end for him. Then, he saw some figures walk up to the house, probably wondering what all the commotion was about and why this mansion was on fire. Marley called out to them, but when he spoke, he heard nothing, his voice was gone for some reason, no sound came out. He continued trying to shout, but it was having no effect. The three figures stood and watched the mansion for a bit, each engrossed in the flames.
Marley didn’t know what to do, he was dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Then he eyed three rocks lying next to him. Not unknown to many people, H.T. Marley had superb aim when it came to things like this. Although his vision was blurred and the light from the fire blinded him slightly, he was still able to hit all three of the figures consecutively.
Each rubbing their head, they all turned around and walked over to Marley. When they came up close, Marley could get a good view of these three pirates, and it filled him with as much joy as a guillotine lining up with his neck.
The first was a tall lofty pirate, whose clothes looked like they were allergic to soap. He had a peg leg and a large captain’s hat, clearly the leader of the three. The one next to him was a short plump round pirate who looked like he had a slight attraction to dirt. The third was also very filthy, but seemed to be the not-so-stable fighter of the group. He proved this by being short but very ready and his head band said the rest.
Then there was another figure which Marley hadn’t seen before; it was small, very small, and poked its head around the tall pirate’s shoe. It was a rat. Marley knew this lot well, they’d turned up at far too many PTA meetings to not be recognized even by stench alone.
‘Well, well, well, what ‘ave we got ‘ere then?’ said the tall one.
‘Looks to me like a crumpled ole’ grandpa oo’ is in desperate need of our ‘elp,’ said the short fat one.
‘I finks we’d better ‘elp ‘im then, don’t you?’
‘Yep, in the best way we know ‘ow.’
‘A song and dance routine from the Men of Low Moral Fiber!’ They all leaped into a line, one next to the other and prepared for some kind of dance sequence. Music seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was soon stopped when Marley pleaded, ‘NO! Please, I just need you to help me get me to the Town Hall.’
‘Hmm, are you sure? It’s a pretty good routine.’
‘We practiced for ‘alf an ‘our, we did, we need someone to see it.’
‘I’m dying here!’
‘Hmm, we’ll make it short.’
‘No!’
‘Not even a little song?’
‘My granddaughter’s been kidnapped!’
‘Ah, well, that changes things, that does.’
‘Yeah, maybe we oughta do a ballad instead.’
‘Yeah, in E minor.’
‘Help me, get me to the Town Hall, I need to save my daughter!’
‘Aww, come on. Not even a little song?’
‘I’m getting angry.’
‘A poem?’
‘Grrr!’
‘A limerick?’
‘No!’
‘Haiku?’
‘Fine, then will you take me to town hall!’
‘Sure, sure. Okay boys, from the top.’ They all harmonized together.
‘There once was a hot Governor named Elaine.
Who’s melo—’
‘GET ME TO THE TOWN HALL!’

***

A terrible scream was hollered by Guybrush as the cannon came back towards him. Guybrush moved to the left to dodge it again. The cannon came back for another try. The cloaked man knew this wasn’t doing anything. With great difficulty, considering the speed he was going at, he grabbed his sword and flung it as hard as he could in the direction of Guybrush. Guybrush saw this and didn’t understand it, perhaps he couldn’t trust this guy, maybe he was a double agent. But this wasn’t the time for wondering why he had thrown the sword, he just acted. He made himself go down slightly so the sword would miss him. But Guybrush didn’t think about it when he did it, Guybrush hardly ever thought before taking actions, it’s what his life was built on.
The double-edged blade of the sword cut through the strings holding Guybrush onto the material and Guybrush fell, again. Guybrush wasn’t expecting this, but he was getting used to not expecting anything. The material flew backwards onto the flaming voodoo cannonball…

…suddenly Ozzie became blind; one minute he was seeing clearly and ready to blow Guybrush into smithereens. Ozzie put his hands over his eyes, momentarily losing control, and then went back into focus and tried steering. But it was no good, he had no idea where he was or what he was doing. He moved around a little, tossing and turning this way and that…

…the boat lost its voodoo magic and momentum and just floated in the sea. Guybrush was very worried, as was the cloaked man. They both watched as the cannonball tossed and turned in the air, trying to find sight; they were afraid that, eventually, it would hit them…

…Ozzie couldn’t do anything; he would have to face the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see, and just let go of the cannonball…

…the flaming voodoo cannonball plunged into the ocean with great might. And kept going.

A number of things happened after that. For a few seconds, there was nothing. The waves waved, there was the sound of the sea crashing against whatever it was it crashed against in the middle of the ocean. It was actually still raining in this part of the sea despite the great distance traveled, and so, that could be heard. Everything was calm. For a few seconds. Guybrush and the cloaked man stared petrified at the ocean beneath them; there was nothing. Then, for approximately one second, a large area of sea around them turned green, a very bright green. That is not to say the tone of it was bright, but more that it was paler and whiter than most greens. The colour subsided after the second, but between its arrival and departure, there was a bang. It wasn’t much of an interesting bang; it was the kind of bang that you would expect to hear underwater, sort of muffled. And then something else happened. This was expected.
The sea rose, it carried Guybrush and the cloaked man in the boat with it and grew higher. The wave grew and grew.

After long last, Marley was on the mend; a doctor has helped with his burn wounds, and he was in deep converse with the town council (consisting mainly of the three important looking pirates who help the governor and Timmy).
‘I’m sorry, Marley, but with recent events on Mêlée, not to mention our seriously bad economical problems, mixed in with the very near depression in coffee prices, and rise in stock for buccaneers, we simply can’t afford to save your granddaughter.’
‘I have no idea what you just said there, but I want my granddaughter back. With her parents gone, she’s the only thing I have left, and I’m not going to let her get entangled with that LeChuck character. He’s a bad egg, always was and always will be.’
‘Always was? Don’t exaggerate, Mr. Marley. He was good once, and you know it.’
‘That wasn’t LeChuck, that was Flannigan Seastepper; he’s come a long way since then and hasn’t used that name in years. But that’s beside the point. I need to save my granddaughter.’
‘Sorry Mr. Marley, but we’re tight as it is; our last boat was foolishly given away to some Sneepshood character.’
‘Threepwood?! That’s my son-in-law! He’ll save my granddaughter! But I’ll have to get a message out to him somehow. You have to at least grant me that.’
‘Hmm, okay, we’ll give you that. Just tell me, is this Threepwood guy any good at saving people?’

Guybrush screamed. The cloaked man tried to row the boat as best he could to outrun the wave, but couldn’t do it. It was hopeless. The boat was currently fighting the wall of the tidal wave, gravity keeping it in its place. A little further up from the boat, was a screaming Guybrush.
The wave carried them for miles. It only took a few seconds. Guybrush looked up. ‘What’s that?!’ he shouted down to the cloaked man, as he plainly saw through the rain and lightning the blurred lights of a far away town.
‘It’s Pillage Island!’
‘What a stupid place to put an island! Right in the path of a… oh wait.’
‘We have to warn the people!’
‘You’re worried about them?’
The cloaked man took out a ship’s horn from his robe and blew it as hard as he could. After he was out of breath, he took a deep breath and started again. He had to warn the people. It was the only way to save them.

On the island of Pillage, men and women were always up all night and slept during the day. It was their way of life, the day began when the sun went down; this is when bars and shops were opened and the island waited for the night’s entertainment. It was noisy at this time of night, no one could have heard the bellowing ship’s horn.
No one, but the old man on lookout point, who was said to have been blind. He was traded from Mêlée a while ago. No one knew why they had traded their best sushi bar for that one, but this is what they were stuck with.
The old man heard a horn from far away. He told himself that it was a ship, that’s all it could be. But the lighthouse was out and the only light the ship could go to was the lookout point with the fire on the top. That was the only reason it was lit, not to keep the old man warm, but to keep the ships on course. The old man looked through his telescope into the direction that the horn was blowing in, and saw nothing. It was pitch dark and nothing could be seen but the rain.
Then lightning struck in the storm. It was clear as ice. A huge tidal wave was headed straight for the island and there was no stopping it.
The old man looked away from the telescope and thought for a second. Then he looked back again just to make sure he saw what he saw. He took another three looks just to convince himself that, yes, there was a huge tidal wave coming towards the island.
At first he didn’t know what to do. What does one do when one sees a thirty foot tidal wave careening towards them? Despite what many people had thought, the lookout had had training in… well, looking out. And he was always told to not panic in a panic situation. Problem was that whilst telling him what not to do, no one ever told him exactly what to do in a panic situation. He had always been pretty lucky up until now. Sure, he did once completely miss LeChuck’s ghost ship and let him get away with the governor of Mêlée, but that was just one mistake, and he did surprisingly find LeChuck’s kidnapper’s note. Granted, it was attached to a rock and fired out of a cannon hitting him on the head and leaving him with a mild concussion, but the main thing was that he found it.
Even still, it hadn’t prepared him for thirty foot tidal waves, and he was growing increasingly worried. He hobbled as quickly as he could down to the local tavern and walked in, ready to explain.
Three seconds later he walked back out and shut the door behind him before a bottle came flying into it.
He then walked into the tavern next to it. Luckily, Pillage was the tavern district of the entire Tri-Island area; if you couldn’t see a tavern on Pillage, you were staring out at the sea, and even then, on the east side.
This time, people did listen to him. After he had finished, they all laughed at him and got on with their drinks. But the lookout was pleased, as long as he’d told some people, he was in the clear when it finally hit. And also, he was in a tavern, nice and safe. Pillage was so proud of their taverns that they got a Rock smith in to reinforce all of their bars, in case the volcano on the island went off. And just about everyone was in a tavern at this time of night. If they weren’t in a tavern, then in the Pillage communities’ eyes, you didn’t deserve to live.
The wave hit.

Guybrush was doing pretty well in the circumstances, the cloak tried to pull him into the boat, but the wave wasn’t having any of it. Quite frankly, Guybrush had been through worse, the cloak knew this. Guybrush had been through much worse, he had survived being inside a giant monkey and almost been drowned on a regular basis. That was the whole point though, Guybrush was surviving right now because of his uncanny ability to hold his breath for ten whole minutes. But it had already been eight minutes and the cloak was more worried about the people on the island. The wave was now a good twenty feet away from Pillage, and the cloak was still blowing like crazy on his ship’s horn. He hadn’t actually stolen the horn, he bought it from an antique shop on Booty Island; the guy there seemed to have a lot of them.
Then he stopped. If they didn’t know by now, it was too late.
The wave hit.

A number of things happened here, one thing that maybe a couple of the slightly less drunk pirates noticed is that a couple of fish swam past the bar window awkwardly. They just thought that they needed some more grog. Everything was better with grog.


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