Swinging back into things – and where better to try and restart with this graveyard of creative inspiration. Yes, the new chapter is forced, it's crude, a bit crass and probably not good for your health. But hey, I'm out of practise – things can only get better … or more depraved… Depraved is good, but you'll have to live with poorly-written inference as I don't do PWP – probably because I can't write that stuff and keep a straight face (my grammar and syntax also suffer).
Read and review if so inclined - thanks.
Well, I found my diary. I had been sorta lookin' for it, but tryin' not to be too obvious about it because the last thing you need on the 'fishbowl-in-a-vacuum' that is Serentity is people askin' you what you're lookin' for…
I thought someone had pilfered it.
First I thought bloody Mal had been snooping through my stuff again. I mean, it's not like he trusts me, and he's always looking for new and exciting ways to bring the hammer of his moral authority down on my head; I think it makes him feel better about the tightness of his pants. But ever since I caught Mal with his hand in the compan...cookie jar in the … ummm … middle of the galley, he's tended to back off on seein' to my moral education
Then I thought it was River, because she's still suspicious about what went on (and on … and on .. and on …and on top and … but now I'm just braggin') between me and her sainted mother when the Tam's senior came to visit and I wouldn't put it past the nasty little hobbit to come a callin' all uninvited-like to confirm her suspicions. River might be a reader, but apparently it's difficult to differentiate between reality and 'the sewer that constitutes my conscious mind' – I'll have to thank the doc for that little descriptor – and so the girlie ain't too sure if what she's seein' is real… or me being a pervert.
I am, of course, a pervert, but everyone needs a hobby and I can't go firing my guns off inside the ship; that would make me stupider than people already think I am (along with being corrupt, morally bankrupt and having issues with personal hygiene …apparently).
Anyway, I figured out that the actual thief was the little bastard of a psychopathic killer that roams the ship…
…No, not the Shepherd…
It was the tooth marks gave it away, lots of tooth marks, deep, serrated tooth marks, that matched the tooth marks left in the corpses of rats that our guest has been stacking in the loading bay like it's setting in a store of winter firewood – I am now fairly certain that we have a shark living in our air vents; if sharks could breathe air and had ever left the-earth-that-was.
I don't have any idea what it wants with my diary. I don't think it's particularly edible and it doesn't squeak. If it wanted something that squeaked I would have offered it Kaylee's rubber ducky, but the creature got that weeks ago – no, I don't know why Kaylee has, sorry…had … a rubber ducky… It's possible that Simon gave it to her in one of his ongoing attempts at appealing less tightly wound – an attempt inevitably doomed to failure although Kaylee doesn't care as she's all so afire at being continually being banged like a drum by the prince of her dreams.
... I just hope the bloody creature wasn't reading it although, if it was, it clearly wasn't too impressed because I found it stacked with the latest batch of rat corpses – everyone's a critic.