Ship In A Bottle || South Park Pirate AU

Twelve

In which things are flipped on their head.

Kyle angled his book away from Butters and glanced up. "Tourniquet?"

Butters screwed up his face in thought. "Can I have a clue?"

"No. Take a guess first."

"But I don't know what that is!" He slumped dramatically down, head lolling upside over the edge of the hammock.

"You do know what it is," said Kyle. "We studied it a few days ago, remember?"

"Did we?"

"In the section on amputations."

"I... Oh, yeah!" Butters snapped his fingers. "They're those medieval torture device thingies."

"That's not what they're for."

"Well of course it's not," he said. "I only meant that's what it looked like."

"What is its actual purpose?"

"It stops the flow of blood to a limb."

"Limits, not stops," corrected Kyle. "How does it work?"

"By cutting off circulation."

"Can you be more specific?"

"Um," Butters narrowed his eyes, and gestured with his hands. "So, it's this leather strap that you wrap around a limb. It's attached to a stick, and you spin the stick around and around, to twist up all the extra length. And then you keep turning, tighter and tighter, 'till the blood can't pass through the limb so easily anymore. And then—Chop!" He sliced at the air. "Goodbye limb." He looked to Kyle. "Was that good?"

"Spot on."

Butters gave a little whoop and punched the air. Kyle had not expected to enjoy the end of week reviews as much as he did, but Butters' enthusiasm was contagious. Having all the answers laid out before him was a nicer way to revise than the long, painful exams he had endured for his tutor back home.

"And when might you need to remove a limb?" he asked.

"If it was infected, maybe," said Butters. "Otherwise—"

A knock on the door interrupted him.

"Who is it?" called Kyle.

"Me," said a voice. "Kenny."

Butters sat up and patted down his hair, which had taken on an extra level of fluffiness from hanging it upside down. His face was neutral, which Kyle suspected was intentional.

"Enter," he said.

In came Kenny, tool kit in one hand and a bucket in the other. "Captain sent for you, Kyle," he said. "Says he's expecting your bi-weekly report on the crew's health."

"Really?" Kyle rolled his eyes. "Right now?"

"Well, I think that's what he expects, yes."

"Okay," he sighed. "Tell him I'll be up soon."

"Okay." Kenny paused in the doorway. "Hey, Butters?"

Butters, who had been doing his best not to look at Kenny, looked at Kenny. "Yeah?"

"I was about to go scrape off all the barnacles."

"Okay."

"Because—It's been a while, and they build up so quickly, you know."

"Okay."

Kenny shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I was wondering if, um, if you wanted to help out. Hold my ankles or something?" He braved a smile. "Like old times."