Mops

While a parrot plunged forward screaming its feathered head off, Murtogg studied one of his captors though the bars of the Pearl's brig.

The stereotypical scary looking guard of the brig was sitting on a barrel casually whittling away at a long piece of wood knowing full well that two unarmed redcoats who were tied up and behind bars couldn't escape very easily. He had a scruffy look about him, dirt underneath his fingers, and salt stiff in his hair, teeth pleasant yellow, dark eyes, and that distinctive smell of tar. Of course the tarred smell could have been a result of being on a ship, but the smell was smelly and fragrant in a negative way regardless of what or who it came off of.

The guard stopped whittling, broke into a grin that showed he had missing teeth, placed his knife on the ground, and began moving towards the bars. He took his masterpiece, twirled it around, stuck long shredded pieces of rag to one end of it and showed off his work. "What d'ya think of that, eh?"

"How dare you?" spat Murtogg in a venomous way most unlike him. The guard frowned not understanding why. Murtogg and Mullroy were tied back to back, so Mullroy couldn't see what was going on at all."What?What did he do?"

"He made-a-the most-"

"The most what?What it is it?"

"A mop." Murtogg said in disgust, narrowing his eyes at the evil mop maker. The guard squinted angrily at him, leaned his mop against a crate, and folded his arms at the redcoated Englishman. "What is wrong with my mop? I, Martin, am the best mop maker!"

Mullroy closed his eyes and stared disbelievingly at the wall since he couldn't star disbelievingly at Murtogg. "A mop? You're mad over a mop?"

"They're evil." hissed Murtogg. Martin, guard of two red coated naval officers, evil hench-pirate in league with the enemies of our heroes, dog adorer, part time fisherman, mop making hobbyist and meat eater glared at Murtogg. "My mops are not evil!"

"Yes, they are!" insisted Murtogg.

"Oh?" said Mullroy, "And how long were you going to let me go around not knowing mops were evil?"

"Mops have been evil since," Murtogg stopped to think back to chapter thirteen, "-since Ana Maria forced us to mop…"

Mullroy shook his head-he was getting a headache from doing it so often in this story that he stopped. "You don't like mops-that doesn't mean they're evil."

"Yes, it does."

"My mops are not evil!" repeated Martin.

"Yes, they are!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"I only make good mops!"

"EVIL!"

"Good!"

"Evil mops are not good!"

"Yes they are! I mean no, if they're evil they're not good-but-but my mops aren't evil!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are!"

"Aren't!"

"WILL YOU TWO STOP IT?" howled Mullroy.

"Why are you shouting?" Martin asked shocked. How dare he raise his voice like that?

"That wasn't necessary you know. Maybe a nice 'please' or something." scolded Murtogg.

"Some people!" Martin agreed, sitting back on his barrel.

All over mops…