Chapter One: Missouri

Side of fries a dollar,
or the haddock plate two ninety five
A rootbeer float, a Pepsi.
And be sure to save some room for some apple pie;
better make it a-la-mode

There's a couple from the Show Me State,
knockin' back a little meatloaf plate.

She kept apologizing for her companion, a bouncy, black-hair boy. He began to order everything on the menu, but it was soon apparent by the look on her face that they couldn't afford it. She tentatively grabbed my arm and told me to bring them the cheapest thing to split: the meatloaf plate.

Since it was slow that night ( they were the only people there, besides Zoro sleeping out back, kicked out of the house for the night again ), I joined them with my own dinner of leftovers. I began to talk with the girl, she introduced herself as Nami. She was Missouri, as was he who eagerly ate most of their food without a second thought.

She kept giving him sympathetic looks. I asked why, being a bit curious and wishing to keep her attention as best as I could. I like girls. Girls like me. If you'd say that's a very egotistical thing to say, then obviously, you don't know me that well, do you?

She began slowly. He'd been an elite athlete, a gymnast of amazing talent. I raised my eyebrows as she listed all the things he'd won and all the people he'd beat. It was too amazing to be true. Her hands tightened around her cup of coffee. They were on the run. He'd had a fall not to long ago . . . his head had hit the beam too hard, he hadn't moved when he was lying there. He was brain-damaged, she thought.

He'd been a different person, her voice sounded irked, a responsible, reliable one who concentrated on his work and sport. But now . . . they were going to have him train again because it seemed his body went on auto-pilot when it came to the skills. She was afraid it would kill him to do it anymore.

So, she concluded along with the last of her coffee ( black and iced ), she stole him. I asked what was so bad, because he didn't seem so bad. As if on cue, he finally spoke up.

"I'm Luffy! King of the Pirates! Arg! I'm a pirate."

She sighed. "That's what's wrong. And your name is Louis."

"Luffy." He said brightly. "And you're in my crew."

"You haven't got gin back there, do you?" She asked me. I shook my head, no. Her pretty face scowled as Luffy, as he called himself, vaulted skillfully onto the counter and began to walk on his hands. It almost seemed as if he was made of rubber, but then, that's the way it is with those kind of types.

"There's a motel nearby." I offered, knowing that the next bus out of here wouldn't come until the morning. She shook her head. "This is where we're supposed to be here."

I was a little surprised. People don't come to Brice to stay unless they are mental or retired or farmers. She her eyes shifted to the boy dismounting the counter. "He's got this idea in his head . . . I thought it would be best to humor him to get him out of Missouri."

"And what idea is that?" I asked. She rolled her eyes and fished through her bag, handing me a series of print outs.

"They're a map if you put them together. Some sort of treasure map."

"Y'all're goin' after tha' hainted holla?" I slipped into the accent with amazement. I saw her look a little interested now.

"You know about it?" She leaned in. "You sound like you're from around here."

"I'm not," I said, back in an educated clip. "I've just heard stories."

"We'll split with you." Luffy was sitting on a stool, looking at me with a face full of childish hopefulness. "Come on, it'll be fun! You can be in my crew – the cook! Every ship needs a cook. What's your name?"

I paused, thinking about it. Hell, I had nothing to do for the summer. Maybe humoring them wouldn't be so bad after all. "It's a little weird – "

"Try me." Nami muttered.

I extended my hand to the boy on the stool. "I'm Sanji."

o-o-o

I don't think that it was going to occur to our 'captain' any time soon that he was, in fact, not a pirate, but a delusional gymnast who could have gone to the Olympics if he hadn't fallen and Nami hadn't stolen him from the gym.

But god damn it if I was going to get poison oak because of him. I swatted at another mosquito as we looked for a trail – or what would be left of a road.

"Luffy," Nami was complaining, "We're off the map."

No response. I rolled my eyes. I suppose this is what I get for listening to maniacs at on the late shift. What I really should have been at was graduation practice, but, to hell with that, there was treasure to found. I stopped and lit up a cigarette.

A terrible vice, yes, I know, but kept those skeeters away from me better than any repellent these two city slickers were wearing. Luffy tumbled into a sinkhole and we had to call it a day and get him back to solid ground before he cracked his skull open. I slapped a steak on the grill while she quietly slipped pills into his mouth to ease the pain in his head. Guy was pretty sick.

The door rang and I heard the familiar rumble of combat boots looking for a free meal and maybe a place to sleep. I rubbed my eyes wearily. This wouldn't be the first time he'd scared someone off.

Zoro, reeking of moonshine, stumbled in and threw himself into the counter. Nami warily took in his Bowies and he just glowered right back her in his usual unrepentant manner. I put a Styrofoam cup of coffee in front of him and pointed to the door. He took it, planted his ass on the stool and chugged.

Luffy was staring at him, wide-eyed once again. I looked at him and then back at Zoro. He couldn't possibly . . .

"Hi!" That bouncy black hair was now in the stool next to Zoro. "I'm a pirate captain and we're in dire need of a swordsman."

Zoro blinked.

"So I think it's only reasonable that you join my crew."

Zoro was just drunk enough to go along with it. "Eh, ai-yuh, just get me something to drink."

"Sanji can do that, he's the cook!" Luffy pointed to me, that stupid grin still in place. Zoro looked at my and chuckled.

"Come on, make with the goods." He said with the kind of eyebrow motion that was particularly suggestive. I swiped his cup away from him and crushed it into tiny bits. Luffy tsk-tsked behind me.

"That's no way to treat on of your crew members!"

"Yeah!" Zoro echoed, pumping his arm in the air, the back anarchy sign that he'd tattooed there jumping around and dancing in the most interesting way. I watched his eyes for a second; I knew what was coming at this stage. He keeled over.

Nami looked at the hulking figure, now sleeping soundly on the linoleum. "Is he always like this?"

I gave her a withering glance. "Just be glad he's not on acid."

ai-yuh is common Boston accent for any affirmitave word.