My thank yous out to you wonderful readers yet again. Chapter 12 already! My, my. And trust me, there is more trouble to come. I have plottings in my head up to and through Chapter 16. Oh my, indeed!
Thank you, Pei Pei. As always, your reviews are most appreciated. Hope you will be writing about Ritchie soon again!
And thank you to Biscayne, one of my few male reviewers. Glad you don't think is good. I'm flattered.
Beware to all, I have a rough draft of a new humorous PotC story called "Atonements of Sin", and hopefully I will get a chance to type and write it this week some time. . . . and Pei Pei, don't kill me because what I will do to Barbosa! It ain't good to be dead and damned in any of my stories! And it's James' fault! :)
This story will take priority, so don't fret it, if you are a follower.
On with the show . . .
Chapter 12: Dough Wars
After a successful weekend of fine boozing and old fashion womanizing with the meager wages, that Marita gave them for their work at the bakery, the two pirates were penniless once again and obviously in no condition to work Monday morning, but they managed it all the same. It had been three weeks that they had been at the bakery, and this was the first weekend of real partying. The first two weeks, Pintel was in not feeling much like doing partying due to his illness and his recovery from it. The week after, he was still feeling a bit weak. By this time, most of the authorities gave up on finding them. Actually, they didn't put out much of an effort in the first place, and the commodore and just about the rest of the Royal Navy in Port Royal denied their existence in the first place. So, it was rather safe for them to slunk around town (especially since Pintel had been running the front part of the bakery periodically, and he hadn't been arrested yet), but all the same, they chose to sneak out the window under the cover of darkness on Saturday night, and they headed for some of the finer establishments like "The Drunken Boar", "The Bloody Cock", and "The Three and a Shilling Lady" on the rougher side of town, that no one talked about much, and where, regardless of the best efforts of the commodore and his men, there were more than enough pirates, and a pirate could be a true pirate there. Many things exchanged pockets, Pintel and Ragetti got more than their fair share of threats, and Ragetti's wooden eye got to do more exotic pocket travel than anything should ever do! Oh well, some pirates weren't too choosey and would steal anything. Pintel and Ragetti felt just like they were back home again on any number of pirate ships that they had served.
Pintel got to share himself with many of the "lovely ladies" of the local cat house and made a couple successful hits upon the madam. Ragetti got drunk, and his lady companion robbed him blind, but she left his wooden eye in place and left him his pants. Oh well, he thought, he at least he had a good time, didn't have to track down his wooden eye, and didn't have to walk home butt naked. Things were back to normal for them. Come the wee hours of Monday morning, the two spent pirates found themselves face down in the mud just outside the last tavern they had hit.
So, after a long stagger home and 45 minutes of sleep in their mud soaked clothes, Marita's wake up call did nothing for them. Lucy bit Pintel in the butt and got the older pirate up and at them all the way to the tub. After all, the squat little man didn't bring home any rum.
Marita, having very little aversion to slimy icky things (After all, she had housed Pintel and Ragetti for near a month), she pulled Ragetti up bodily, popped out his wooden eye. She dropped him heavily back to the bed, held the eye up between her index finger and thumb, and announced in no uncertain terms that she was going to use this bit for firewood, if a certain one eyed man did not get out of bed NOW! The tall man was soon up and ready to do his morning chores without more complaint.
Monday was Marita's shopping day. She usually bought food for the household and other things of need. She often brought home something for herself and Estella while she was out. Ragetti added wood oil for his eye to her list, and Pintel's request was better left unsaid, and they both requested more rum, and Lucy exclamated that last one. She turned to leave the bakery, then she paused with a final thought. She turned back to her grinning employees and gave them their usual warnings and threats about stay out of trouble (and other people's pockets), do their work (for a change), and stay away from her daughter. She then left. Pintel made a crude comment, and Ragetti headed back to the kitchen.
The tall lanky man went about his usual work in the kitchen and worked on a concoction for that award winning hangover that he and Pintel both had. Oh well, they had ten years of partying to make up for and ten years of hangovers to go with it. He tried to remember the ingredients for that hangover remedy that Pintel had taught him some time ago. He got the raw eggs and the hot sauce, but somehow adding the toadstools didn't seem right. Needless to say, the two pirates found themselves outside more often than not retching. After some hours of losing all the goodies introduced to their stomachs in the last 24 hours, they finally purged their systems of all argumentivce alcoholic beverages and anything else that may have been down there. The headaches were still there. Pintel was not his usual lecherous self and gave decent customer service for a change, and most customers left with their possessions in tact.
Ragetti did the baking and the cleaning without any musical interludes or any baking experiments. The strawberry and jalapeno muffins he made Friday afternoon didn't go over too well. Once Marita found out about this special recipe, Ragetti found himself unconscious on the floor for two hours, and he woke to find a butcher knife in his hand with his wooden eye on the end of it.
He was minding his own business, as he stirred the batter for the donuts. When Marita allowed him to do this, she didn't have in mind that he would be taste testing it as often as he was in the habit of doing. Rather pleased with the taste, he continued stirring and taste testing. After all, he had lost his breakfast and anything else on his stomach. He felt a tug at his shirt tail. For all the efforts that Marita put into making the taller man presentable, Ragetti was still a slob at heart, and there was only so much that could be done. She didn't have to put much effort forth to get him to comb his hair and to get him to bathe, as before mentioned. Although she could not get him to wear a tie or the shoes, she did, at least, try to get him to tuck his shirt in. Well, the front part was neatly tucked in, but the back hung out in its usual sloppy manner. At the tug, he waved his hand behind his back to shoo away the interruption. The tugging happened again. He turned his head to look over his right shoulder and saw nothing as usual. He had been without his right eye since he was 12, and he still didn't get it.
The yanking on the shirt tail was more insistent. "Uncle Tony?" came Estella's little voice.
He dropped his stirring ladle into the pastry batter. He remembered certain severe threats that Marita had made Friday, when she caught him, Pintel, and Lucy playing spinning the bottle with Estella. The thought made him cringe and pull his legs in tight. His eyes opened wide in fear. Such was his shock, his wooden eye fell out and into the batter. He uttered a curse that would have done Pintel proud and created new and unique threats from Marita, if she knew such words were said before her daughter. He dug his hand into the batter to retrieve his favorite wooden companion.
Estella giggled, and she climbed up on the preparation table with the aid of a chair. She threw her doll Miss Alice on the table, then she followed in her frilly red dress and perfect little patent leather shoes. She managed to get flour in many and various places not thought possible by merely climbing onto a table. She sat up on her knees and smiled brightly at him.
"I can help you, uncle Tony," she offered happily, as she dipped her delicate little hands into the batter, managing to get more stuff on her dress.
Pintel, with a tea biscuit hanging from his mouth (He had an empty stomach, too, due to Ragetti's fine hangover remedy, too.), came through the door. Lucy flanked his footsteps. He came in on the pretense that he needed more pastries . . . well, he did eat a few between customers and some were eaten while waiting on customers (and even belonging to the customers). Actually, he was feeling better and was rather bored, and he felt his younger companion needed some good old fashion harassment. He came in with a mouth opened and half digested cookie crumbs therein, and his jaws dropped further and he spewed crumbs everywhere at the sight of the two digging around in the bowl. This was going to be easier than he thought. The older pirate put on a look of chagrin, although the two just made his job that much easier.
"Whatcha think ya doin'?" the smaller man remarked, as he squinted his eyes at the two.
"I lost me eye in the batter," the taller pirate answered as if this was a normal occurrence . . . well, for Ragetti, it was.
"Ye 'n' that bloody eye! Sometimes I think Bo'sun 'ad the right of it, mate, and ye should nail the bloody thing in yer socket!" he growled.
Ragetti looked up at his companion with a hurt expression on his face. "I di'n't like Bo'sun much. 'E were always mean to me! 'Sides, if I did that, it would 'urt like bloody 'ell!"
"Oh quit bein' a bloody bab'!" the other complained, "Just give it up and get ya a new one!" He sauntered over to them, took some of the dough from the bowl, and rolled it up in a ball. Ragetti looked at his with his usual confused expression, as Pintel took his face in his hand, opened wide the empty eye socket and shoved the ball of dough in it. "Good as new!" he remarked.
Startlement replaced the confusion on Ragetti's face. The dough caused the existing tear ducts to run, and the dough soon slide down his cheek, and instead of the satisfying bounce that the wooden orb had, the dough just squelched on the floor.
Pintel shrugged and said, "Oh well, it was worth a try."
The younger man narrowed his one good eye and his empty eye socket at his smirking companion and his often daft mentor. "That eye be special to me. Me da gave it to me," he replied rather insulted.
"It would be the only thing that he gave ye," Pintel goaded him.
"Well, that ain't exactly so. 'E gave me the flu once . . ." he replied.
"I bet ya really enjoyed that one, di'n't ye!" the older man smirked.
"Uh . . . well . . ." Ragetti answered as he stood up straight and scratched the back of his head, therefore getting flour and dough in his hair and all over his face. Estella pointed at him laughed. The tall pirate turned to her, frowned, and splatted her on the ribboned head with a handful of dough.
She stopped laughing. She stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth, balled up a handful of dough and hit Ragetti with it.
Pintel snickered at them, and he was bombarded with dough. Not being the type to be made a target without inflicting his own damage, he gathered up a sizeable handful of dough from a different mixing bowl and dropped it down his tall companion's pants.
"Now Marita will think ya be a bigger man than what ya really are!" he chided.
The younger man's face went from red shock to pale white shock. "Pintel!" he cried out, "Not in front of the littl' lady!"
Estella fell backwards on the table in laughter. She pointed to Ragetti and exclaimed, "Uncle Tony has got a load in his pants!"
"Oh hush!" Ragetti told her, as he splatted her with some more dough.
Soon there was flying dough everywhere. Lucy, although being a rather lazy dog at heart, got in on the action. He snatched up a flying bomb every once and awhile and chomped it down.
So engrossed with their activities, no one noticed the jingle of the front door bell. No one noticed the determined no nonsense foot falls coming across the floor. No one noticed the opening of the kitchen door. No one noticed Marita, with crossed arms and tapping her foot with anger and impatience, at the doorway. She was finally noticed when she became the prime target of three sloppy throws of dough. The irate glare made Lucy cringe and crawl whining under the table. Ragetti tried to give that innocent, but nervous, grin. Pintel only shrugged and licked dough off of his face. Estella took up Miss Alice and moved to the edge of the table and swung her feet over the edge. She smiled up at Marita.
"Hi, mommy!" she chirped.
An ominous silence fell over the bakery kitchen, as she walked across the disaster area. Lucy hid his head under his paws. She pulled a sizeable lump of dough from her clothes, as she approached Ragetti. The hardened pirate of many not so grand adventures backed away from her approach. She pulled out his hand and slammed the ball of dough in his hand.
Terror fled his face and was replaced with vast relief. "Thank ye, ma'am!" he replied happily as he uncovered his wooden eye out of the dough.
So, after a long lecture about wasting the bakery's material, making an ungodly mess, and associating with her daughter and teaching her bad habits after her numerous rather butchering threats, the two pirates set about cleaning up their mess. Lucy helped by eating up some of the dough. Pintel would just have to clean up the end results later on. The two men were happy enough to keep the mess on their personages (They had had lots worse things on them and kept it there for some time!), although Ragetti would really appreciated getting the load out of his pants. It was a tad bit uncomfortable. Marita saw things differently and insisted that they get the dough off of themselves. This took some doing and by the time they were done, it was past dinner time and time for bed. The bakery mistress was of the opinion that they did not deserve dinner after their antics, but they did some convincing sad eye looks at her. After all, they were famished after that hangover antidote. She gave an exasperated sigh and relented. They would cause more trouble on an empty stomach.
Thank you, Pei Pei. As always, your reviews are most appreciated. Hope you will be writing about Ritchie soon again!
And thank you to Biscayne, one of my few male reviewers. Glad you don't think is good. I'm flattered.
Beware to all, I have a rough draft of a new humorous PotC story called "Atonements of Sin", and hopefully I will get a chance to type and write it this week some time. . . . and Pei Pei, don't kill me because what I will do to Barbosa! It ain't good to be dead and damned in any of my stories! And it's James' fault! :)
This story will take priority, so don't fret it, if you are a follower.
On with the show . . .
Chapter 12: Dough Wars
After a successful weekend of fine boozing and old fashion womanizing with the meager wages, that Marita gave them for their work at the bakery, the two pirates were penniless once again and obviously in no condition to work Monday morning, but they managed it all the same. It had been three weeks that they had been at the bakery, and this was the first weekend of real partying. The first two weeks, Pintel was in not feeling much like doing partying due to his illness and his recovery from it. The week after, he was still feeling a bit weak. By this time, most of the authorities gave up on finding them. Actually, they didn't put out much of an effort in the first place, and the commodore and just about the rest of the Royal Navy in Port Royal denied their existence in the first place. So, it was rather safe for them to slunk around town (especially since Pintel had been running the front part of the bakery periodically, and he hadn't been arrested yet), but all the same, they chose to sneak out the window under the cover of darkness on Saturday night, and they headed for some of the finer establishments like "The Drunken Boar", "The Bloody Cock", and "The Three and a Shilling Lady" on the rougher side of town, that no one talked about much, and where, regardless of the best efforts of the commodore and his men, there were more than enough pirates, and a pirate could be a true pirate there. Many things exchanged pockets, Pintel and Ragetti got more than their fair share of threats, and Ragetti's wooden eye got to do more exotic pocket travel than anything should ever do! Oh well, some pirates weren't too choosey and would steal anything. Pintel and Ragetti felt just like they were back home again on any number of pirate ships that they had served.
Pintel got to share himself with many of the "lovely ladies" of the local cat house and made a couple successful hits upon the madam. Ragetti got drunk, and his lady companion robbed him blind, but she left his wooden eye in place and left him his pants. Oh well, he thought, he at least he had a good time, didn't have to track down his wooden eye, and didn't have to walk home butt naked. Things were back to normal for them. Come the wee hours of Monday morning, the two spent pirates found themselves face down in the mud just outside the last tavern they had hit.
So, after a long stagger home and 45 minutes of sleep in their mud soaked clothes, Marita's wake up call did nothing for them. Lucy bit Pintel in the butt and got the older pirate up and at them all the way to the tub. After all, the squat little man didn't bring home any rum.
Marita, having very little aversion to slimy icky things (After all, she had housed Pintel and Ragetti for near a month), she pulled Ragetti up bodily, popped out his wooden eye. She dropped him heavily back to the bed, held the eye up between her index finger and thumb, and announced in no uncertain terms that she was going to use this bit for firewood, if a certain one eyed man did not get out of bed NOW! The tall man was soon up and ready to do his morning chores without more complaint.
Monday was Marita's shopping day. She usually bought food for the household and other things of need. She often brought home something for herself and Estella while she was out. Ragetti added wood oil for his eye to her list, and Pintel's request was better left unsaid, and they both requested more rum, and Lucy exclamated that last one. She turned to leave the bakery, then she paused with a final thought. She turned back to her grinning employees and gave them their usual warnings and threats about stay out of trouble (and other people's pockets), do their work (for a change), and stay away from her daughter. She then left. Pintel made a crude comment, and Ragetti headed back to the kitchen.
The tall lanky man went about his usual work in the kitchen and worked on a concoction for that award winning hangover that he and Pintel both had. Oh well, they had ten years of partying to make up for and ten years of hangovers to go with it. He tried to remember the ingredients for that hangover remedy that Pintel had taught him some time ago. He got the raw eggs and the hot sauce, but somehow adding the toadstools didn't seem right. Needless to say, the two pirates found themselves outside more often than not retching. After some hours of losing all the goodies introduced to their stomachs in the last 24 hours, they finally purged their systems of all argumentivce alcoholic beverages and anything else that may have been down there. The headaches were still there. Pintel was not his usual lecherous self and gave decent customer service for a change, and most customers left with their possessions in tact.
Ragetti did the baking and the cleaning without any musical interludes or any baking experiments. The strawberry and jalapeno muffins he made Friday afternoon didn't go over too well. Once Marita found out about this special recipe, Ragetti found himself unconscious on the floor for two hours, and he woke to find a butcher knife in his hand with his wooden eye on the end of it.
He was minding his own business, as he stirred the batter for the donuts. When Marita allowed him to do this, she didn't have in mind that he would be taste testing it as often as he was in the habit of doing. Rather pleased with the taste, he continued stirring and taste testing. After all, he had lost his breakfast and anything else on his stomach. He felt a tug at his shirt tail. For all the efforts that Marita put into making the taller man presentable, Ragetti was still a slob at heart, and there was only so much that could be done. She didn't have to put much effort forth to get him to comb his hair and to get him to bathe, as before mentioned. Although she could not get him to wear a tie or the shoes, she did, at least, try to get him to tuck his shirt in. Well, the front part was neatly tucked in, but the back hung out in its usual sloppy manner. At the tug, he waved his hand behind his back to shoo away the interruption. The tugging happened again. He turned his head to look over his right shoulder and saw nothing as usual. He had been without his right eye since he was 12, and he still didn't get it.
The yanking on the shirt tail was more insistent. "Uncle Tony?" came Estella's little voice.
He dropped his stirring ladle into the pastry batter. He remembered certain severe threats that Marita had made Friday, when she caught him, Pintel, and Lucy playing spinning the bottle with Estella. The thought made him cringe and pull his legs in tight. His eyes opened wide in fear. Such was his shock, his wooden eye fell out and into the batter. He uttered a curse that would have done Pintel proud and created new and unique threats from Marita, if she knew such words were said before her daughter. He dug his hand into the batter to retrieve his favorite wooden companion.
Estella giggled, and she climbed up on the preparation table with the aid of a chair. She threw her doll Miss Alice on the table, then she followed in her frilly red dress and perfect little patent leather shoes. She managed to get flour in many and various places not thought possible by merely climbing onto a table. She sat up on her knees and smiled brightly at him.
"I can help you, uncle Tony," she offered happily, as she dipped her delicate little hands into the batter, managing to get more stuff on her dress.
Pintel, with a tea biscuit hanging from his mouth (He had an empty stomach, too, due to Ragetti's fine hangover remedy, too.), came through the door. Lucy flanked his footsteps. He came in on the pretense that he needed more pastries . . . well, he did eat a few between customers and some were eaten while waiting on customers (and even belonging to the customers). Actually, he was feeling better and was rather bored, and he felt his younger companion needed some good old fashion harassment. He came in with a mouth opened and half digested cookie crumbs therein, and his jaws dropped further and he spewed crumbs everywhere at the sight of the two digging around in the bowl. This was going to be easier than he thought. The older pirate put on a look of chagrin, although the two just made his job that much easier.
"Whatcha think ya doin'?" the smaller man remarked, as he squinted his eyes at the two.
"I lost me eye in the batter," the taller pirate answered as if this was a normal occurrence . . . well, for Ragetti, it was.
"Ye 'n' that bloody eye! Sometimes I think Bo'sun 'ad the right of it, mate, and ye should nail the bloody thing in yer socket!" he growled.
Ragetti looked up at his companion with a hurt expression on his face. "I di'n't like Bo'sun much. 'E were always mean to me! 'Sides, if I did that, it would 'urt like bloody 'ell!"
"Oh quit bein' a bloody bab'!" the other complained, "Just give it up and get ya a new one!" He sauntered over to them, took some of the dough from the bowl, and rolled it up in a ball. Ragetti looked at his with his usual confused expression, as Pintel took his face in his hand, opened wide the empty eye socket and shoved the ball of dough in it. "Good as new!" he remarked.
Startlement replaced the confusion on Ragetti's face. The dough caused the existing tear ducts to run, and the dough soon slide down his cheek, and instead of the satisfying bounce that the wooden orb had, the dough just squelched on the floor.
Pintel shrugged and said, "Oh well, it was worth a try."
The younger man narrowed his one good eye and his empty eye socket at his smirking companion and his often daft mentor. "That eye be special to me. Me da gave it to me," he replied rather insulted.
"It would be the only thing that he gave ye," Pintel goaded him.
"Well, that ain't exactly so. 'E gave me the flu once . . ." he replied.
"I bet ya really enjoyed that one, di'n't ye!" the older man smirked.
"Uh . . . well . . ." Ragetti answered as he stood up straight and scratched the back of his head, therefore getting flour and dough in his hair and all over his face. Estella pointed at him laughed. The tall pirate turned to her, frowned, and splatted her on the ribboned head with a handful of dough.
She stopped laughing. She stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth, balled up a handful of dough and hit Ragetti with it.
Pintel snickered at them, and he was bombarded with dough. Not being the type to be made a target without inflicting his own damage, he gathered up a sizeable handful of dough from a different mixing bowl and dropped it down his tall companion's pants.
"Now Marita will think ya be a bigger man than what ya really are!" he chided.
The younger man's face went from red shock to pale white shock. "Pintel!" he cried out, "Not in front of the littl' lady!"
Estella fell backwards on the table in laughter. She pointed to Ragetti and exclaimed, "Uncle Tony has got a load in his pants!"
"Oh hush!" Ragetti told her, as he splatted her with some more dough.
Soon there was flying dough everywhere. Lucy, although being a rather lazy dog at heart, got in on the action. He snatched up a flying bomb every once and awhile and chomped it down.
So engrossed with their activities, no one noticed the jingle of the front door bell. No one noticed the determined no nonsense foot falls coming across the floor. No one noticed the opening of the kitchen door. No one noticed Marita, with crossed arms and tapping her foot with anger and impatience, at the doorway. She was finally noticed when she became the prime target of three sloppy throws of dough. The irate glare made Lucy cringe and crawl whining under the table. Ragetti tried to give that innocent, but nervous, grin. Pintel only shrugged and licked dough off of his face. Estella took up Miss Alice and moved to the edge of the table and swung her feet over the edge. She smiled up at Marita.
"Hi, mommy!" she chirped.
An ominous silence fell over the bakery kitchen, as she walked across the disaster area. Lucy hid his head under his paws. She pulled a sizeable lump of dough from her clothes, as she approached Ragetti. The hardened pirate of many not so grand adventures backed away from her approach. She pulled out his hand and slammed the ball of dough in his hand.
Terror fled his face and was replaced with vast relief. "Thank ye, ma'am!" he replied happily as he uncovered his wooden eye out of the dough.
So, after a long lecture about wasting the bakery's material, making an ungodly mess, and associating with her daughter and teaching her bad habits after her numerous rather butchering threats, the two pirates set about cleaning up their mess. Lucy helped by eating up some of the dough. Pintel would just have to clean up the end results later on. The two men were happy enough to keep the mess on their personages (They had had lots worse things on them and kept it there for some time!), although Ragetti would really appreciated getting the load out of his pants. It was a tad bit uncomfortable. Marita saw things differently and insisted that they get the dough off of themselves. This took some doing and by the time they were done, it was past dinner time and time for bed. The bakery mistress was of the opinion that they did not deserve dinner after their antics, but they did some convincing sad eye looks at her. After all, they were famished after that hangover antidote. She gave an exasperated sigh and relented. They would cause more trouble on an empty stomach.