Chapter Thirty-Two
A lesser pirate would have peed themselves.
But Melanie was a fantastic pirate. She had fought against sea monsters, survived countless misadventures on a countless number of exotic and abandoned islands, and regularly visited Tortuga. For pleasure. So when she opened her eyes to see the aim of Dana's gun, she did not pee herself.
What she did, however, was scream.
She shrieked and ducked her head, then dove at Dana Flint just as the gun went off. With gunsmoke in her eyes, she found herself atop of Dana and pulled back her arm, ready to dispense the dagger in her sleeve.
"Cash!" Dana cried. "What are you doing?!"
"What am I doing?" Melanie demanded. "What the hell was that?" With her other hand, she swiped the water from her tearing eyes and blinked rapidly to clear her vision. She saw Dana beneath her, and her hands were empty. Flint's pistol lay in the grass beside her head.
Melanie narrowed her eyes. "What the hell did you just pull?"
Dana displayed her empty hands. "Take a look behind you." Without allowing Dana to sit up, Melanie craned her head around. Beside the tree against which the captain of the Yellow Dart had been reclining against a moment prior, was the still-smoking carcass of a clown. Melanie, being a very rational human person who was leery of clowns, felt an enormous and inexplicable sense of relief. In the clown's hand was a cruel looking knife.
It took Melanie a moment to find her voice. "You ... you just saved my life ... ? You just saved my life." Dana did not answer, and instead allowed Melanie to get up off of her and offer the gunslinger her hand. "I apologize."
Dana brushed herself off and knelt to retrieve her gun. She suddenly started to laugh. "You know, I guess that ~would~ have looked pretty bad from your end!" The two laughed until tears of mirth ran down their cheeks, then caught their breath.
"But wait," Melanie said when she was able to speak again. "You can't totally blame me. I mean, what the hell was with that creepy story?"
"It was to make a very important point."
"Which was?"
Dana smiled widely. "Stories can be dumb. They don't have to make sense." As she said this, Calgary Flames team captain Jerome Iginla cruised by on his ice skates and offered them a wave and a grin, which they both returned. Dana continued. "Stories are for fun. And sometimes for birthdays."
"That makes sense," said Melanie. "I think that I would like to dwell more upon the things that I've learned today, but how about right now, we go and kick some creepy-carnival-guy ass."
"Agreed," agreed Dana. And without further discussion or description, they both ducked into the Big Top.
A lesser pirate would have peed themselves.
But Melanie was a fantastic pirate. She had fought against sea monsters, survived countless misadventures on a countless number of exotic and abandoned islands, and regularly visited Tortuga. For pleasure. So when she opened her eyes to see the aim of Dana's gun, she did not pee herself.
What she did, however, was scream.
She shrieked and ducked her head, then dove at Dana Flint just as the gun went off. With gunsmoke in her eyes, she found herself atop of Dana and pulled back her arm, ready to dispense the dagger in her sleeve.
"Cash!" Dana cried. "What are you doing?!"
"What am I doing?" Melanie demanded. "What the hell was that?" With her other hand, she swiped the water from her tearing eyes and blinked rapidly to clear her vision. She saw Dana beneath her, and her hands were empty. Flint's pistol lay in the grass beside her head.
Melanie narrowed her eyes. "What the hell did you just pull?"
Dana displayed her empty hands. "Take a look behind you." Without allowing Dana to sit up, Melanie craned her head around. Beside the tree against which the captain of the Yellow Dart had been reclining against a moment prior, was the still-smoking carcass of a clown. Melanie, being a very rational human person who was leery of clowns, felt an enormous and inexplicable sense of relief. In the clown's hand was a cruel looking knife.
It took Melanie a moment to find her voice. "You ... you just saved my life ... ? You just saved my life." Dana did not answer, and instead allowed Melanie to get up off of her and offer the gunslinger her hand. "I apologize."
Dana brushed herself off and knelt to retrieve her gun. She suddenly started to laugh. "You know, I guess that ~would~ have looked pretty bad from your end!" The two laughed until tears of mirth ran down their cheeks, then caught their breath.
"But wait," Melanie said when she was able to speak again. "You can't totally blame me. I mean, what the hell was with that creepy story?"
"It was to make a very important point."
"Which was?"
Dana smiled widely. "Stories can be dumb. They don't have to make sense." As she said this, Calgary Flames team captain Jerome Iginla cruised by on his ice skates and offered them a wave and a grin, which they both returned. Dana continued. "Stories are for fun. And sometimes for birthdays."
"That makes sense," said Melanie. "I think that I would like to dwell more upon the things that I've learned today, but how about right now, we go and kick some creepy-carnival-guy ass."
"Agreed," agreed Dana. And without further discussion or description, they both ducked into the Big Top.