Tevun-Krus #50

The Curse of Captain Chimichanga - @MadMikeMarsbergen

"The Curse of Captain Chimichanga" originally appeared in Tevun-Krus #30: PiratePunk

Author's Note from MadMikeMarsbergen: This was my twenty-fourth story submitted to Tevun-Krus, was written in 2016—which I personally consider to be my best year of TK contributions—and also serves as a prequel short story to a book I haven't gotten around to writing yet, which is the third book in a series I haven't even started. Confused? Perfect. Like six out of sixteen TK stories I wrote in 2016, "The Curse of Captain Chimichanga" is part of my Peanut Butter Bloodline series. It's a mishmash of genres: part comedy, part sci-fi, part horror, part exercise in theology. I'm pleased it gets a second wind in this mind-blowingly epic issue of Tevun-Krus.

Note from AngusEcrivain, who made this selection: To be perfectly honest, picking my favourite of all Mike's excellent contributions to TK is like asking me to pick my favourite from a box of Bassett's Liquorice Allsorts. That is to say, it's impossible. In place of "The Curse of Captain Chimichanga" could quite easily have been any number of Sci-Fi jaunts from any one of the issues to which Mike has contributed his considerable talent. This is a badass story though, and it's got pirates in it.

The Curse of Captain Chimichanga

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.