A/N:Thank you, thank you, hugs and kisses, (Well, at least the hugs, since most of you are also girls!) folks for the wonderful reviews. I want so for this story to do alright, because I am enjoying these characters so much. I'm not really sure where they are going, but neither are they.
For those of you, who have read this piece and have not reviewed, please do so. I accept anon reviews, but if you have an account with FF, I will happily read your stuff and leave reviews.
To Japas the Bassist aka Ragetti's Girl, Pintel got the name Eugene, so there could be a reference to "Careful with that Axe, Eugene". A very old Pink Floyd piece. And you need to write some more!!
Les MisLooney, Alyak, and Wdbydoglvr, I will be getting your updates soon. And thank you again for reviewing!
And I really should proof read before I post!! Anyway, this has been reposted after proofing.
Chapter 4: The Baker, the Pirate and the Bodice Maker
The wind shifted and died out altogether to the great relief of the woman's most insulted olfactories. She breathed in a sizeable lungful of the fresh air available before she motioned for the recently freed prisoners to the direction of the bath. The tall one eyed pirate got up and moved his right hand to wipe the mud from his face. He only succeeded in muddying his face further. He went to wipe his hands on the tatters of his mud soaked shirt, but it was of no use. He grimaced and turned towards Pintel, whose shirt was just as dirty. Somehow, sensing what was on the other's mind, the smaller pirate gave him a withering condescending glare, that said in simple English, "Stay the bloody hell away from me, you feebleminded cretin!". Strangely enough, Ragetti got it. The younger pirate only shrugged and smeared his muddy hands on his equally muddy pants. Pintel blew out a disgusted breath.
"Come on, you two. I have a legitimate business to run," the woman complained. Pintel's brows furrowed. She was using those big words again. She pointed insistently in the direction of the bath.
The smaller man moved passed her and turned on her with a smirk. "Don't ye think that introductions be in order, my lady? I'd like to know who's orderin' me 'bouts."
The frigid stare from her was enough to draw icicles to the palm trees. "And I'd like to know who is invading my backyard," she replied. Her dark eyes narrowed on the squat little man. "Go ahead, introduce yourself."
"I asked first, love," he returned insistently. He cocked his head up at her and squinted his right eye. "I always like to know the name of the woman I drop me pants fer."
Ragetti turned a shocking shade of white visible beneath the mud and dirt. He choked uncomfortably and swallowed that irritating growing lump in his throat. If looks could kill, then Pintel would have been in several large chunks on a spittle and roasting over an open fire from this intense gracious glare. This made the smaller man all the more proud of his grand achievement.
Ragetti swallowed down the second lump in his throat. This one hit his stomach harder than the dish that time some years ago that Bo'sun made. It was one of his ethnic specialties, that contained parts of a monkey that no one should ever touch muchless eat. Ragetti was not feeling too well even before he asked what was in it.
"I'm Tony Ragetti," he prompted in the effort to make amends for his peculiar companion. He offered his muddy hand to the stoic woman.
She looked down on the offer, and her upper lip twitched with distaste. Self conscious of his own dirt, he pulled his hand back. His mud covered face turned a shade of brighter red than when he turned back human and had that irritating ten year sun burn. Luckily, his skin was now a dark tan and the peeling had stopped, but for some reason the itching was returning. But, back to the problem at hand. He shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot and nodded to his companion. "And me friend 'ere, 'e be 'Enry Eugene Pintel. 'E's been me best friend since I was a wee little tyke. Well, I was a tad bit shorter than 'im when we met. I was 14 then and still 'ad a bit of growin' to do, ye see, and 'e got a bit shorter and all . . ."
"That's all fine and well ye tellin' 'er yer 'ole life story and all, me boy," Pintel grumbled, "But since ye be so bloody formal with me own name, ye should be just as formal with yer own name, don't cha think, Anthony?"
Ragetti looked confused. (What else is new!) "Tony is me proper name. Mum always thought that Anthony was a daft name, but da wanted one of 'is boys named after 'im. So, she named me Tony to keep 'im quiet."
"That's not the only thing daft 'round 'ere," the other remarked.
"Enough foolishness," the woman cried out. "If you must know, I am Marita Schmidt. I own this bakery, and while you stay here, and I might add, work here, you may call me Mrs. Schmidt."
"Uh . . ." the two pirates said together as they turned a whiter shade of pale and their eyes opened wide. Ragetti conveniently caught his wooden eye before it led him on another roll about in the yard.
Bracing himself, Pintel answered, "It may be just safer if we just be safer if we be just callin' ye Mrs. Marita, if it be all the same to ye, love."
She glared down on him, and the icy stare made him shrink down further on his already bowed legs. A look of a terrified half drowned sea rat, caught in the corner by Charlie, the ship's big orange tabby, appeared on his face. She sighed regretfully and backed off. "As you please," she relented.
The pins and needles withdrew, and the pirates relaxed. She ushered them to the bath. As the two men argued over who would be the first victim of the brush, she left them to fetch the water. They didn't notice her departure, as their heated argument reached its height. Finally, they came to the only option left to them. They would settle this like the men they were. They went into a heated competition of rock, paper, scissors. Pintel, losing six out of eight tries, was graciously volunteered for the first bath. The smaller and fouler mouthed man mumbled some more of that colorful pirate language he knew.
Ragetti looked up and saw Marita carrying two large buckets of water for the bath. Although a simpleton and a curd, he was kind of a gentleman at heart, well . . . sometimes . . ., well, he was usually considerate to women . . . well, when he wasn't exactly an undead cursed pirate and he was trying to show off to the bigger meaner cursed undead pirates. He left his gloating over his victory against Pintel to help her with her burden. Pintel didn't notice. He just continued to growl about his bad luck and accused Ragetti of cheating and other left unsaid things. The woman narrowed her dark eyes up at the aiding pirate, but the warning completely went over his head. Ragetti, for being such a tall fellow, often found many things over his head.
"'Ere, ma'am, let me 'elp ye with those," he happily offered.
Pintel, finally noticing the absence of his audience, glance up at his friend's words. He frowned. "Ye sadist!" (The biggest fanciest word he knew! It was taught to him by his wife back in the home country on many of an occasion) he growled, "Ye been 'round Barbosa too damn long!" (Barbosa helped with the definition of that word, too).
Ragetti had other things on his mind other than his grouchy foul mouthed sore loser of a companion. To add the list of Pintel's complaints to his agenda at the moment would have been just too much for Ragetti's simple mind to deal with. So, he ignored the smaller irate pirate and wrapped his hands around the handles of the buckets touching her delicate hands. He felt his heart in his throat. Damn, he thought, too much junk had been gathering there in the last day! Marita pulled away from the touch of his warm rough mud covered hands.
"I don't need a fool of a man to help me," she sneered angrily at him.
"Uh," Ragetti answered intelligently as usual. He swallowed his heart back down to its proper place. "I only mean to 'elp. I mean well. Ye are tryin' to 'elp us and all, and I be grateful fer yer rescue and getting us out of chains, ye know. Pintel, 'e's grateful, too. 'E just don't show it much."
He did not let go of the buckets, and his heart continued to pound. When in doubt, he gave a big toothy (although he had his fare share of rotten teeth, and they were nothing to show off to impress a lady) innocent smile, which was quite good considering the images of Marita his imagination was coming up with at the moment. The woman blew out an exasperated breath and let the full weight of the buckets fall into his hands. With the sudden weight unloaded on him, the tall pirate fell face forward and found his sight full of the things preying on his mind and his nose in her bodice. He felt all the heat of his blood rush to his face right before her delicate fist impacted to his jaw, and he found himself in a blissful state of unconsciousness.
There was no more argument from Pintel and that date with the tub. He turned to Marita and asked, "Would ye be 'avin' a miniature wooden sail boat?"
She shoved the buckets into his hands without another word. She, then, turned and marched off to her own business.
A/N; Poor Ragetti! What did he do to deserve this!
For those of you, who have read this piece and have not reviewed, please do so. I accept anon reviews, but if you have an account with FF, I will happily read your stuff and leave reviews.
To Japas the Bassist aka Ragetti's Girl, Pintel got the name Eugene, so there could be a reference to "Careful with that Axe, Eugene". A very old Pink Floyd piece. And you need to write some more!!
Les MisLooney, Alyak, and Wdbydoglvr, I will be getting your updates soon. And thank you again for reviewing!
And I really should proof read before I post!! Anyway, this has been reposted after proofing.
Chapter 4: The Baker, the Pirate and the Bodice Maker
The wind shifted and died out altogether to the great relief of the woman's most insulted olfactories. She breathed in a sizeable lungful of the fresh air available before she motioned for the recently freed prisoners to the direction of the bath. The tall one eyed pirate got up and moved his right hand to wipe the mud from his face. He only succeeded in muddying his face further. He went to wipe his hands on the tatters of his mud soaked shirt, but it was of no use. He grimaced and turned towards Pintel, whose shirt was just as dirty. Somehow, sensing what was on the other's mind, the smaller pirate gave him a withering condescending glare, that said in simple English, "Stay the bloody hell away from me, you feebleminded cretin!". Strangely enough, Ragetti got it. The younger pirate only shrugged and smeared his muddy hands on his equally muddy pants. Pintel blew out a disgusted breath.
"Come on, you two. I have a legitimate business to run," the woman complained. Pintel's brows furrowed. She was using those big words again. She pointed insistently in the direction of the bath.
The smaller man moved passed her and turned on her with a smirk. "Don't ye think that introductions be in order, my lady? I'd like to know who's orderin' me 'bouts."
The frigid stare from her was enough to draw icicles to the palm trees. "And I'd like to know who is invading my backyard," she replied. Her dark eyes narrowed on the squat little man. "Go ahead, introduce yourself."
"I asked first, love," he returned insistently. He cocked his head up at her and squinted his right eye. "I always like to know the name of the woman I drop me pants fer."
Ragetti turned a shocking shade of white visible beneath the mud and dirt. He choked uncomfortably and swallowed that irritating growing lump in his throat. If looks could kill, then Pintel would have been in several large chunks on a spittle and roasting over an open fire from this intense gracious glare. This made the smaller man all the more proud of his grand achievement.
Ragetti swallowed down the second lump in his throat. This one hit his stomach harder than the dish that time some years ago that Bo'sun made. It was one of his ethnic specialties, that contained parts of a monkey that no one should ever touch muchless eat. Ragetti was not feeling too well even before he asked what was in it.
"I'm Tony Ragetti," he prompted in the effort to make amends for his peculiar companion. He offered his muddy hand to the stoic woman.
She looked down on the offer, and her upper lip twitched with distaste. Self conscious of his own dirt, he pulled his hand back. His mud covered face turned a shade of brighter red than when he turned back human and had that irritating ten year sun burn. Luckily, his skin was now a dark tan and the peeling had stopped, but for some reason the itching was returning. But, back to the problem at hand. He shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot and nodded to his companion. "And me friend 'ere, 'e be 'Enry Eugene Pintel. 'E's been me best friend since I was a wee little tyke. Well, I was a tad bit shorter than 'im when we met. I was 14 then and still 'ad a bit of growin' to do, ye see, and 'e got a bit shorter and all . . ."
"That's all fine and well ye tellin' 'er yer 'ole life story and all, me boy," Pintel grumbled, "But since ye be so bloody formal with me own name, ye should be just as formal with yer own name, don't cha think, Anthony?"
Ragetti looked confused. (What else is new!) "Tony is me proper name. Mum always thought that Anthony was a daft name, but da wanted one of 'is boys named after 'im. So, she named me Tony to keep 'im quiet."
"That's not the only thing daft 'round 'ere," the other remarked.
"Enough foolishness," the woman cried out. "If you must know, I am Marita Schmidt. I own this bakery, and while you stay here, and I might add, work here, you may call me Mrs. Schmidt."
"Uh . . ." the two pirates said together as they turned a whiter shade of pale and their eyes opened wide. Ragetti conveniently caught his wooden eye before it led him on another roll about in the yard.
Bracing himself, Pintel answered, "It may be just safer if we just be safer if we be just callin' ye Mrs. Marita, if it be all the same to ye, love."
She glared down on him, and the icy stare made him shrink down further on his already bowed legs. A look of a terrified half drowned sea rat, caught in the corner by Charlie, the ship's big orange tabby, appeared on his face. She sighed regretfully and backed off. "As you please," she relented.
The pins and needles withdrew, and the pirates relaxed. She ushered them to the bath. As the two men argued over who would be the first victim of the brush, she left them to fetch the water. They didn't notice her departure, as their heated argument reached its height. Finally, they came to the only option left to them. They would settle this like the men they were. They went into a heated competition of rock, paper, scissors. Pintel, losing six out of eight tries, was graciously volunteered for the first bath. The smaller and fouler mouthed man mumbled some more of that colorful pirate language he knew.
Ragetti looked up and saw Marita carrying two large buckets of water for the bath. Although a simpleton and a curd, he was kind of a gentleman at heart, well . . . sometimes . . ., well, he was usually considerate to women . . . well, when he wasn't exactly an undead cursed pirate and he was trying to show off to the bigger meaner cursed undead pirates. He left his gloating over his victory against Pintel to help her with her burden. Pintel didn't notice. He just continued to growl about his bad luck and accused Ragetti of cheating and other left unsaid things. The woman narrowed her dark eyes up at the aiding pirate, but the warning completely went over his head. Ragetti, for being such a tall fellow, often found many things over his head.
"'Ere, ma'am, let me 'elp ye with those," he happily offered.
Pintel, finally noticing the absence of his audience, glance up at his friend's words. He frowned. "Ye sadist!" (The biggest fanciest word he knew! It was taught to him by his wife back in the home country on many of an occasion) he growled, "Ye been 'round Barbosa too damn long!" (Barbosa helped with the definition of that word, too).
Ragetti had other things on his mind other than his grouchy foul mouthed sore loser of a companion. To add the list of Pintel's complaints to his agenda at the moment would have been just too much for Ragetti's simple mind to deal with. So, he ignored the smaller irate pirate and wrapped his hands around the handles of the buckets touching her delicate hands. He felt his heart in his throat. Damn, he thought, too much junk had been gathering there in the last day! Marita pulled away from the touch of his warm rough mud covered hands.
"I don't need a fool of a man to help me," she sneered angrily at him.
"Uh," Ragetti answered intelligently as usual. He swallowed his heart back down to its proper place. "I only mean to 'elp. I mean well. Ye are tryin' to 'elp us and all, and I be grateful fer yer rescue and getting us out of chains, ye know. Pintel, 'e's grateful, too. 'E just don't show it much."
He did not let go of the buckets, and his heart continued to pound. When in doubt, he gave a big toothy (although he had his fare share of rotten teeth, and they were nothing to show off to impress a lady) innocent smile, which was quite good considering the images of Marita his imagination was coming up with at the moment. The woman blew out an exasperated breath and let the full weight of the buckets fall into his hands. With the sudden weight unloaded on him, the tall pirate fell face forward and found his sight full of the things preying on his mind and his nose in her bodice. He felt all the heat of his blood rush to his face right before her delicate fist impacted to his jaw, and he found himself in a blissful state of unconsciousness.
There was no more argument from Pintel and that date with the tub. He turned to Marita and asked, "Would ye be 'avin' a miniature wooden sail boat?"
She shoved the buckets into his hands without another word. She, then, turned and marched off to her own business.
A/N; Poor Ragetti! What did he do to deserve this!