Here's a funny chapter. After taking ten chapters to finish one battle the story couldn't continue unless there was a chapter just trying to make you readers laugh. I hope you like it. 4fireking and chapter.
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After saving an entire town from a moron with powers that were greater than his Christopher had the choice to train or cook, but he really didn't have a choice when he started cooking because his captain begged him too much. Since they were sailing on something small Christopher couldn't cook with fire.
So, despite his captain's protesting, Christopher made sushi. There was no fish in it, the 'rice' was breadcrumbs, and the seaweed wrap was actually roasted eggplant that Christopher had grabbed at random on the last island they'd been on. It looked disgusting. It didn't taste much better. Yet Fletcher somehow managed to eat it without being sick. It was taking all of Christopher's willpower not to throw up.
"Chris?" Fletcher said, "I want meat."
Christopher glowered at the glutton. Not only had that idiot given him a nickname, he was still hungry. Apparently, Fletcher wasn't taking silence for an answer.
"Chris? Meat." Fletcher reached out and poked Christopher in the chest.
Christopher winced, curling up slightly as the touch aggravated his injuries. Fletcher looked surprised.
"Chris?" He said.
'Chris' wished that Fletcher would stop calling him that.
"Yo, Chris, what's wrong?" He said with a slightly worried expression.
Now he cares . . . Christopher thought snarkily. Out loud, he said, "Have you already forgotten what happened at Bagrat?"
Fletcher looked at him blankly, saying, "Where's Bagrat?"
Christopher looked past his captain in irritation. Then his eyes narrowed.
"Hey, Fletcher, look behind you."
Fletcher turned around. A Sea King stared back at him. Fletcher licked his lips.
"Meat" he said simply.
Christopher had a sense of impending doom. This turned out to be entirely justified.
Fletcher launched himself at the Sea King without bothering to stop and think about what he was doing. All the Sea King had to do was open its sharp-toothed mouth, and Fletcher was food. Its collosal jaws clamped shut.
Christopher nearly had a heart attack.
Then the Sea King growled, its cheeks bulging randomly as Fletcher struggled to escape. With a snort of irritation, the Sea King dived, rocking the small boat.
Christopher rushed to the side of the boat, watching as the silhouette of the Sea King became harder and harder to see. Then he cast his eyes to the sky, cursing his captain's stupidity. A giant bird flew overhead, but Christopher ignored it when he saw the Sea King surface a few hundred metres away. And that's when he saw the island, barely visible on the horizon. The Sea King appeared to be swimming towards it. With a sigh, Chris picked up the oars. With multiple muttered curses, he began to row towards the island.
And so Fletcher's great island escapade began.
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Christopher took a deep breath of air, and let it out with a whoosh. Much as he enjoyed being on land, he should probably start looking for Fletcher.
Christopher approached a friendly-looking old man.
"Excuse me," he asked, " have you seen a boy about my age with brown hair looking for meat?"
"Oh, I saw a Sea King spit out someone with brown hair earlier, over that way." The old man replied, pointing to his left.
Christopher thanked the old guy, but as he was about to walk off, something occurred to him.
"Say, old guy, where am I?"
"This here town's called Hamlet Hill."
"What's the island called?"
"Hamlet Hill."
How interesting Christopher thought sarcastically. He pointed to a random nearby stream.
"What's that stream called?" Christopher asked.
"Hamlet Hill Stream."
This was getting ridiculous. Christopher looked up at the mountain rising from the middle of the island.
"I suppose that mountain is called Hamlet Hill too?" He said resignedly. The old man looked at him as if he was crazy.
"Of course not!" The old man said indignantly. "That there is Mount Bob."
Christopher slapped himself in the forehead. Then he said goodbye to the old man and walked to his left, towards a small beach.
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The beach was empty. No sign of his idiot captain anywhere, apart from a boy-shaped indentation in the sand. Christopher sighed. Of course, things were never simple where his captain was concerned. He heard someone cough behind him. He turned around, and saw a cross-looking woman tapping her foot on the sand. If looks could kill, he would be dead.
"Uh, do I know you?" He asked, very much doubting it.
"You're late." She replied, glaring at him harder. Christopher had no idea what she was talking about, though she soon enlightened him without any prompting.
"That menace told me that his friend Chris would be here in ten minutes. It's been two hours. Where the hell have you been?" She demanded. Christopher looked at her blankly. The woman rolled her eyes.
"Never mind. Just get to work."
Christopher felt lost. What did she want?
"Uhh . . ." He said intelligently. The woman threw a basket at him.
"Go on," she said angrily, " start picking up all the seaweed! You're not leaving until you're done!"
That was when Christopher noticed that there was seaweed scattered everywhere(italic) around the boy-shaped indentation. Cursing Fletcher's name, he gingerly began picking it all up.
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Seaweed smelled. And it smelled bad. The smell clung to Christopher's hands, and now that he was finished, he swore he was never touching raw seaweed again. Did he mention that it smelled?
Christopher handed the basket of foulness to the unsmiling woman, who had stood watching him the whole time like some sort of greedy carrion bird. She didn't say anything as she took possession. She started to walk away.
"Hey!" Christopher called, "Which did the menace go?"
The woman stopped and turned. She glared and pointed. Then she continued on her way with a huff.
Christopher hurried in the direction she had indicated.
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Christopher soon came upon a takoyaki stall, owned by an odd looking man. There was no takoyaki available. The lid of a nearby trashcan was still swinging. Christopher was about to run off in that direction when the man called out.
"Hey, Chris, you have to pay for all this first!"
Christopher's eyebrow twitched. He trudged back to the stall.
"How much?" He ground out.
"Man, you stink! Have you been cleaning out the outhouse or something?" The man exclaimed.
"How. Much." Christopher's voice was dowright venomous. It was a voice that did not bode well for Fletcher's future.
"Oh, that will be 1000 beri." The man said cheerily.
Christopher dug the requisite change out of his pocket and slammed it on the counter. The stall-owner took it with a smile, oblivious to the boy's ill temper.
"Your friend went that way," the stall owner said while pointing in the trash can's direction, "You just missed him by a few minutes."
Christopher took a deep breath, and charged in the indicated direction, determined to catch Fletcher before more damage could be done.
It was not to be. Christopher was too late. In the middle of the road lay a broken plate. It seemed unlikely anyone other than Fletcher could break a plate in the middle of the road. Christopher was no detective but it looked like Fletcher was going somewhere, got hungry so he took a plate of food, and was probably almost run over by an animal or remembered something important where he dropped it.
Or maybe he had just tripped. Knowing Fletcher, that was perfectly possible. Christopher took a couple of steps forward, and saw another broken plate, also in the middle of the road. In fact, there was a whole trail of them. Well, at least it made it easier to finf Fletcher. Then Christopher remembered the seaweed. And the 1000 beri takoyaki. Christopher looked around nervously, but no one was there. He sighed in relief and kept walking. But just as he reached the first plate . . .
"Oi! Where do you think you're going! You gotta clean up this mess first!"
Christopher looked up the bright blue sky and thought : Why me? Then he turned to face the speaker.
A tiny child no older than two smiled at him. Christopher stared with a dumbfounded expression. The child chuckled at him. What the . . .
"Oi! Up here!"
Christopher looked up. A giant looked down. Christopher didn't bother to question this. After all, his captain was crazy.
"Hello." He said pleasantly, not wanting to get squashed. The giant raised an eyebrow.
"So you're Chris."
The giant didn't sound too impressed. Christopher's eyebrow twitched at the nickname.
"Well, I suppose you'll have to do. Take this," the giant handed him a giant-sized basket, " and pick up all those broken plates."
Christopher eyed the basket uncertainly. It was as tall as he was, not including the handle.
"Why do I have to pick up the plates?" He complained.
"Because the menace said you would." That was the second time today someone had called Fletcher a menace.
"But the basket's too big for me to carry!" Christopher cried out. The giant sighed and rolled their eyes.
"Do I have to do everything myself?" With another sigh, the giant picked up the basket. Christopher sighed in relief.
"You're still picking up the plates." At that, Christopher huffed. How was he supposed to reach to put the plates in? Then he had a brilliant idea. So long as the shards weren't too sharp, he could use his tongue to pick them up! And so Christopher preceded to do just that, jogging to keep up with the giant's loping strides.
But it wasn't quite that simple. Have you ever tried running while poking your tongue out as far as it will go? Christopher was struggling to breathe, alternately choking on his tongue and gasping for air. Poor Christopher.
It took half an hour to pick up the plates, which had all been dropped at regular intervals in the middle of the road. What in the Four Blues had Fletcher been thinking?
The giant let Christopher go, pointing out over the houses to where they could see Fletcher running like a lunatic.
XXX
After that, Christopher passed several nice people, people who didn't make him work or ask for money, but simply pointed in the direction of the idiot captain.
The last person who pointed Christopher in the direction was a little kid with shaven blond hair wearing a red shirt and black shorts.
" That guy was weird," the kid said. " When I was around him my face felt like I was looking at a hurricane, and he was what my daddy called eccentric."
Eccentric, huh? Christopher mused. That was an understatement in his opinion. Christopher left the yellow, red and black boy behind as he continued on the trail of his crazy captain.
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Soon after meeting the little boy, Christopher came across an old lady near a well. She was sitting on the side of the road, looking miserable, a puddle of water on either side of her, two empty buckets still rolling in circles. Fletcher must have passed through here. Christopher scowled at the thought. How inconsiderate could the breezy boy be?!
Christopher knelt down next to the old lady, careful not to get wet.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked. With any luck, this would be the last person he'd have to help, but he couldn't just leave the lady on the ground.
She slowly looked up at him, and said dejectedly, "That menace knocked me down . . ."
Christopher sighed. Please don't start crying . . .He thought. Christopher sighed again. He picked up the buckets, and walked over to the well that was somewhat strangely positioned in the middle of the road. He lowered the small bucket on the rope, and began the task of filling the old lady's buckets.
"Here you go," Christopher said kindly, putting the buckets down and hauling the frail-looking woman to her feet. She picked up her newly filled buckets as Christopher turned and walked away.
"Wait!" she called after him. He turned back.
"I have something for you." She began rummaging in her pockets, putting the buckets back down to do so. Eventually, she found what she was looking for. She held the object out to him, beaming.
"Here! A nice sweet toffee for a nice young man" Christopher took the item, eyeing it dubiously. The old woman's smile got even bigger as she walked away with her buckets.
Christopher stared at the 'toffee'. Deciding that it wasn't dangerous, he unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. Looking at the toffee wrapper, wondering what to do with it, Christopher nearly choked. The toffee wrapper was a 5000 beri note. Once he'd remembered how to breathe properly, he just stared. Then, as if this happened every day, he put the sticky note in his pocket. Maybe there was something to altruism after all. If nothing else, at least Fletcher's lunch had been paid for. Speaking of Fletcher . . .
Christopher marched along, mentally preparing the lecture of Fletcher's life.
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Meanwhile, a couple of streets away . . .
Fletcher pouted. Where was Chris? He should have been here by now. Fletcher wanted to know what Chris thought about his sculpture. Fletcher also wanted to know if Chris had anymore food . . .
XXX
Christopher's legs were aching as if he'd been walking all day. Wait a minute . . . he had been walking all day. He stopped for a moment, taking stock of his surroundings. He saw the ocean, and the jetty he'd tied their small ship to. He saw a low wall, with his idiot captain sitting on it. He saw a stuffed sack- Fletcher!
Christopher marched down the path towards him, seething from the day's indignities. Seaweed indeed! He could still smell it!
"Why you little-" He was cut off.
"Chris! Where have you been? It took you forever to get here! Look!" Fletcher picked up the sack. "I got us more supplies!" He declared proudly. He passed the bag to Christopher, who was quick to look inside. The bag was full of beef jerky and dried potatoes. But why? Christopher understood the beef jerky, seeing as how his captain loved meat. But dried potatoes? Christopher shook his head in wonder.
Somewhat mollified by Fletcher's thoughtfulness, Christopher decided that the lecture could wait. He grabbed his protesting captain by the ear and dragged him towards the boat. Christopher couldn't wait to get off this island!
XXX
Some time later, heading to the next island . . .
"Hey, Chris?"
Christopher sighed, resigned to the shortened name. "What?" he asked
"What did you think of my sculpture?"
Christopher stared hard at the captain."What sculpture?"
"You know, all those broken plates?"
Christopher's eyebrow twitched. Yes, he knew those broken plates. "Those were a sculpture?" he asked.
"Yeah! The broken plates represented all the meals I miss, and the same-size gaps represent that I get hungry often."
Christopher's eyes darkened. "Do you realise," he said through gritted teeth, "that a giant made me pick up all those plates? With my tongue ?"
Fletcher looked into his crew mate's eyes. A rarely used instinct clanged in the back of his mind that he was in so. Much. Trouble.
Fletcher started to run around and around the small ship, Christopher hot on his heels, their movements shaking the boat. Neither noticed, and both had more important things to worry about.
Christopher didn't care how tired he was. When he caught Fletcher, he was going to kick that idiot's ass!
End of chapter.