Garin went home to the Black Pawkeet. Jacques was angry at him for leaving him with all of the wet laundry to hang up.
"Jacques, we will discuss this in the morning." Garin said. "I had a long day at the DMV. I am not in the mood for this."
Garin took a dry pair of pajama pants off of the clothes line, and started to head towards his cabin. But Jacques asked a question that stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Why is there a drawing of a licence plate on the back of the ship?"
Garin checked the stern of the Black Pawkeet. There it was. A crudely painted licence plate with an expired sticker. It read, "P00P DCK." Obviously a shortened version of "poop deck." It was the same tag number that was on the paper from the DMV. It was Scarblade's handwriting. Garin could recognise it anywhere.
Jacques was on the main deck waiting for Garin when he returned.
"Now help me harvest this dry laundry. Most of it is your stuff."
The next day. Attempt #2
Garin went to the DMV in the morning. He was wearing a shirt this time. He also put on flip flops just in case. They probably wouldn't notice if he wasn't wearing shoes, but he didn't want to take the risk.
He entered the waiting room. There were only two people ahead of him. Good. Maybe this will only take two and a half hours instead of three. Wishful thinking. The waiting room started filling up with people, many of whom were served before Garin even though he was there long before they were.
Garin's number was called eventually. He went to the desk that was displaying his number, and sat down in the only chair that was in front of it. The front right leg of the chair was slightly shorter than the other legs.
The same woman from yesterday sat on the other side of the desk.
"Okay, it says you're here for a tag renewal, but I remember you saying yesterday that you don't have a tag."
"Right." Garin said. "This is all a misunderstanding. My ship isn't registered, and I shouldn't have to pay the fine if I don't have this imaginary tag renewed. The only tag in my ship is a crudely painted one"
"Oh, well we need to get it registered straight away." She said as she tapped on her keyboard. "How long have you been sailing without a tag?"
"No. We are not registering it." Garin explained. "This is the Department of Motor Vehicles. My ship has no motor or engine of any kind. I shouldn't be here."
"Let me see that paper." She held out her hand. "Poop dick? That's disgusting!"
"No! It's supposed to be poop deck!"
"So you do have a tag!" she said "And it's a vanity license plate."
"It's not a real license plate." Garin said. "It's painted on!"
"Well you can't sail with a painted on license plate. We can give you a new tag today. It won't say P00P DCK. If you want a new poop deck lice plate, you'll have to fill out some forms and wait two weeks."
"I don't want a license plate!"
"Then why are you here?"
"You know what?" Garin said. "You're right." And Garin left. But it was not over.