Tevun-Krus #30 - PiratePunk

THE CURSE OF CAPTAIN CHIMICHANGA - A Short Story by @MadMikeMarsbergen

PART ONE: THE CURSE OF CAPTAIN CHIMICHANGA

(I)

Dear Blondie,

If you're reading this, then I was murdered. And I'm sure you know who killed me—I know I do. We always suspected it would happen eventually. Though the nature of my own suspicions are a little more sinister, as I'll explain later in this letter.

We had a good ride, you and I—didn't we, kid? Lots of laughs, I hope. Unfortunately, more laughs than your poor father had near the end of his life, bless his soul.

After your dad was raped and murdered, Eleanor and I took you in and raised you like you were our son, despite you being a girly. We never had kids on account of my being more sterile than a nutless mule, though we always wanted them, so you were a blessing, you see. Your half-brother, on the other hand, was a pain in the ass—in more ways than one—but we always tried to treat him fair.

Anyway, I'm rambling, aren't I? Even in death. If my old lady could blow her brains out twice 'cause of me, she most certainly would have after trying to read this letter.

What you need to understand, kid, is that I was cursed. Had been since before I was Captain Chimichanga of the Rotten Anus, the finest ship to sail the brown seas of Peburia. It all started when I was simply known as Carlito Chimichanga. I was nine. Had fewer hairs on my balls than a burn victim.

1

i

The ocean was a deep, impenetrable brown. Shauna Milton stood on the edge of the little twenty-foot boat, staring down into the peanut-butter waters, down into the sepia sea, trying and failing to see to the bottom. She saw her swirling-rolling reflection staring back at her. The wetsuit didn't do much for showing off her figure, not like she had any reason—any men—to show off to, anyway. Well, except Newkirk. She sighed.

Boy is he dreamy.

When she heard the claw tapping behind her, she realized she'd been dillydallying. The others on the boat were waiting for her. She had a job to do. She turned to them.

Nigel Amherst was chewing on tar as usual, spitting over the edge, his arms crossed over his chest like he just didn't care.

One-Nut Sinclair sat at the boat's controls, using his hook-for-a-hand to scratch away the lice living on his one remaining nut.

And dreamy Aaron Newkirk grinned at her with his perfect, shiny white smile. His bright green eyes searched her like a spotlight. Saw into her, she thought. "'Bout ready, Blondie?" His muscular arms were tanned an orangey-brown colour. Big veins stuck out everywhere.

She gave him a thumbs up. "As ready as I'll ever be. Though I don't see why I'm the one who's gotta dive down..."

"Captain don't trust anyone else to do it. You know you're the only decent swimmer among us."

"Didgereedont isn't too bad."

He laughed. And when he laughed the nipples on his powerful-looking chest went hard, poking through the thin fabric of his tight shirt. It was quite sexy. "But Didgereedont don't have two brain cells to rub between his fingers, Blondie. He'd sooner jam those winch hooks into his eyes, ears and ass than put 'em where they need to go."

"Yeah, I guess." In a world mostly engulfed by sea, why she was apparently the only decent (and smart) swimmer in the band of buccaneers, Shauna would never know. She thought maybe the others were lying. "Maybe y'all should jump in. You learn pretty quick when you're about to drown in shark-infested waters."