CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Dinner that night was an interesting affair. We were joined, indeed, by pirates. Several of them. The most notorious would have to be Captain Jack Sparrow. He did bear a striking resemblance to Johnny Depp, I decided, as he downed a third glass of the spiced wine the Mabelle had brought out --- rather unwillingly --- for the guests. He seemed to like it rather much for it not being rum. Captain Hook, a few places down from me, was also fond of the drink. He didn't have a strong enough stomach for it, however; by the end of the meal he was playing with his knife and fork as though they were dolls. This would have been entertaining on its own, but I found the dialogue he employed far more interesting.

"Kiss me, you fool!" cried the fork. The knife gasped in a manly sort of way.

"But forksy!" it cried, in a startlingly deep voice, complete with a strong Scottish brogue. "Ah, my forksy, we mustn't. Tabitha might find us out, and then we shall be put with the camping utensils! The shame! The dishonor upon our kins!"

"Fie upon dishonor!" said the fork. It seemed to be turning into a French maid, by the giggly gutteral way Hook had begun pronouncing his 'r's. I couldn't help but be impressed by his falsetto. Hook stared at the fork for a moment, then, momentarily in control of his motor skills, jammed a hole through the rather nice cloth napkin to create a skirt. He picked the makeshift doll back up and resumed the wild gestures and impassioned speech.

"Fie upon dishonor!" he repeated. "Fie upon shame! Fie upon all but the love for you which burns in my… tines!"

"Ah, forksy, you make my roguish heart burn! I long to embrace you, and yet I feel that my serrated edges shall make harm befall you in most unpleasant manner!"

"Knife, my darling, fear not, for I, too, am made of stainless steel and shall not be harmed. Now kiss me!"

"Truly, forksy?"

"Truly, my love!"

"MWAH!"

With that, the silverware began smooching. Loudly. Pearl coughed delicately into her napkin. I just stared. A while later, after forksy and knife dearest had gone to cuddle and talk about their future family of cutlery while lounging on the mashed potatoes, and Hook by extension had fallen relatively quiet, there was a loud banging on the door. I heard a voice call out something defiant, and then there was a billow of smoke that smelled like cheap perfume. A tall woman marched in, waving her cloak in a way that I gathered was supposed to be impressive.

"I am," she announced dramatically, stopping before the table. "Rochelle!"

Apparently we were all supposed to have some sort of reaction to this. I had expected some sort of trepidation upon meeting her, but one look at her big hair and overly frosted eye shadow was enough to prohibit any dramatic heartbeat-skipping or knee-knocking moments on my part. I looked at her, she looked at me, I raised an eyebrow, she wiggled her eyebrows, I smirked, she growled and then coughed.

"Pearl?" I said. She turned to her husband.

"Ryne?"

He looked at us, down at the legion of pirates all apparently enamored with Rochelle's low-cut cheaply made satin gown, and then shrugged.

"Sic 'em," he said. This seemed to be a cue; the pirates leapt up in one body and started chasing her, some brandishing dilapidated weapons, others trying to be charming. She ran. We never saw her again, although I heard once that she eventually settled down with Sparrow and became quite domestic.

Meanwhile, I finished dinner.

THE END

…

Yeah. April Fools.

Expect a proper update within the next day or two. :)