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The Quick, the Corpse, and the Most Holy
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I never wanted to sail the boring Indian Ocean again!—until my last
voyage from Australia to South Africa.  Sit down, my child, as I tell thee
(you) the story of the great demise of the most evil pirates I’ve seen so far:
the notorious Holy Pirate Crusaders!  

It was a cloudless day on May 5, 1818, as Captain Sir Allan Beckham’s
ship, the Asymptote, rocked on the waves of the orange ocean like a car
going through a series of small hills.  This treasure galleon was about four
stories high and one hundred yards long; it had thirty-six tri-cannons
(eighteen on each side).  Its golden plates on the copper magic-resistant
wood reflected most of the sunlight, making it look like a giant beacon of
golden light.  

Besides me, there were one hundred crewmen and women (twenty-five
humans, fifteen werefoxes and ten mermaids)—all with an athletic build
and a fair amount of skill in swashbuckling and marksmanship.  They all
had their own tastes in apparel, yet their unique clothing styles did not
get in the way of their daily routines.  Among us were three of the greatest
hand-to-hand fighters of all time: Gary Haulaway, William Nashville, and
Satoko Delmundo (translated: Satoko of the world).

As for me—Mateo Swahili Con Ridiculo (translated: Matthew Swahili
with ridiculousness), I wore six pistols—imbued with various magic
elements—in my brown slightly magic-/bullet-proof vest over my yellow
and white collared shirt tucked in my light green jean shorts with another
two pistols at the hips.  The smell of salt water breezed its way through my
yellow and red checkered cape and three-cornered hat, which probably had
some bird droppings on it…  My five-foot-long spear had a silver shaft and
an emerald blade which I received while trading with Eskimo pirates in
Antarctica.  On my left middle finger was my platinum engagement ring that
my betrothed forces me to wear every time I go on a voyage with
werefoxes…

Standing beside me on the deck, my fellow merchant Wyatt Delacruz
(translated: Wyatt of the cross)—whom Queen Sydney and other traders call
“the ultrawatt” for his fine merchandise—wore his usual greenish grey
slacks and a light blue collared long-sleeve shirt under his purple lucky
vest, which housed his seven lucky pistols.

Sir Allan Beckham, marching on the deck for a little exercise, chin held
up high, kept his hands on his curved saber and looked to the seemingly
endless horizon as if nothing could possibly go wrong on a sunny day as
this… Suddenly, black clouds quickly blotted out the green sky!  Underneath
the “satanic” clouds was a dark war galleon with that universal pirate
symbol on the sails, but, instead of forming an X, the bones on the symbol
formed a cross!  The galleon was about the same size as our ship, but much
more intimidating—it had thirty-six penta-cannons!

“Captain Beckham, what is that thing over there!?” cried a werefox,
getting her axes and pistols ready.  Beckham pulled out his copper
telescope; looking through it, he said, “It’s the Holy Pirate Crusaders!”
before handing me the telescope.  I concluded, “Well, if they’re holy, we
have nothing to worry about, right?”  “Nay (no)!” screamed Beckham, “They
pervert the name of justice just to satisfy their own ends!  Christians don’t
ride on black galleons in the middle of the Indian Ocean!  All right, boys and
girls, get thy (your) guns and cannons ready!  They’re coming swiftly!”

Looking through the telescope, I could see a black werewolf with long,
wavy, charcoal-grey hair; she was in a purplish-ruby corset armor and jean
shorts as her black cape fluttered in the demonic, stormy wind.  The region
below her left knee looked like a silver rifle barrel (I guess she tried to chase
Moby Dick too!).  Her glowing green eyes began to stare at our ship, as if she
wanted Asymptote in her galleon collection, and then at me, as if she wanted
to take me from my betrothed!  I then looked to Captain Beckham, saying,
“Who’s she?”  He responded, “‘Madame Martini,’ whose real name is Dora la
Exploradora del Infierno (translated: Dora the Explorer of Hell)!  She’s the
captain of the Most Holy and usually likes to sail with ‘Lord Vodka,’ Diego
Deldiablo (translated: Diego of the devil).”  I looked through the telescope
again and saw a tall human encased in dark armor holding a great black rifle
while his deep red eyes gazed at our treasure galleon as if he wanted our
merchandise.  I couldn’t let them take our treasured merchandise!  The
Congo Trade Company might despise me, and the reputation of Sydney
Trading Co. shall be ruined!

When the dark ship was fifty yards away from us, Martini yelled in her
harsh, womanly tone with an unnoticeable Italian accent, “Hand over thy
merchandise, or we’ll take this ship by force!”   “Over my blown-up Quaker
hat!” yelled Sir Beckham, unsheathing his mighty sword, “The merchandise
in this galleon is more precious than you filthy maggots!”  Disgusted by the
remark, Madame Martini raised her halberd to the air; soon afterwards, the
penta-cannons spewed out their cannonballs of dark magic.  The low-
pitched eerie cries of the cannons made our bones quiver while the chilling
winds fanned our frightened frames.  The dark cannonballs smashed
Asymptote’s golden plates, yet the plates remained strong for the time
being.  Cannons began to roar at each other as the magic cannonballs
zipped past us, rendering some of us unconscious forever…  We then shot
at each other with long rifles before the galleons came closer, when the
“crusaders” attached their spiky grappling ropes to our ship in order to pull
us close to their ship.  Now, it was hand-to-hand time…

Spinning my spear like a third-rate kung fu master, I charged at the
unholy pirates, whose numbers matched ours, swinging that spear left and
right, front and back, up and down!  I went on rampage with multiple
thrusts at a human and one strong back-kick to a werefox, followed by a
smooth swing to another pirate’s neck.  The werefox cut the back of my
vest; the hit felt as if a little child whacked my back with a stick due to the
vest fibers.  Turning 120 degrees clockwise, I tried to zip through the
werefox’s abdomen, but she blocked my strike, kicked my groin, and
elbowed my chin—all in one second.  Before the werefox could finish me on
the ground, Satoko slit her throat with her katana Solar Moon (remember
that one from “Saint Helen”?  If not, you can try Dr. Whitaker’s memory
essentials, which I can’t afford at this time…), and William spun his double-
sided long sword to “delete” a foe behind me when I got up.  The aroma of
blood and metal pierced through our nostrils while I spun up-side-down in
mid-air, cutting through more fiends before Martini kicked the crown of my
precious, five-dollar three-cornered hat, sending me higher into the air.  
Satoko fended off Martini, caught me, and threw me at a group of pirates so
I could knock them away like a bowling ball!  As soon as I got up, a
weretigress attempted to flatten me by her hammer, but I parried the
attempt and threw a flurry of thrusts/slashes, although she blocked them in
return.  Unable to outsmart this giant, I shocked her and blew her out of the
way by a lightning bolt from my single-shot pistol.  

Though the fighters made no shouts or groans, the high-pitch clashing
of their weapons “spoke” of their fury.  The smell of ozone and fire zoomed
past us when folks occasionally used magicarms (magic-charged firearms)
to finish bothersome foes.  Once a Polynesian “crusader” pulled the trigger
on his sky-blue pistol, a jolt of ice burst into a dozen icicles, spiraling
toward William and me; spinning our weapons to deflect the spell, we
leaped backwards like stunt actors in kung fu movies, though we could still
feel the chill of the deflected icicles!  A werewolf damaged the back of my
cheap vest although I felt no pain yet; Gary knocked the werewolf’s chin
with his hammer, sending him howling overboard…  I got on Gary’s
shoulders and leaped off to unleash a shining bullet from my pistol, which
exploded into holy photon missiles that rained down on a group of good-
for-nothing pirates.  Satoko and I aided our mermaid comrades by
combining our spell-shots together, forming a double-helix beam of frozen
fire, but Martini’s dark lightning shot canceled the beam!  So, flying to the
rescue, Gary hammer-stamped the heads of some foes as a werefox followed
through with a biochemical double-helix.  After some rapid slamming of
weapons, my mermaid comrades, Satoko, William, Gary, and I shot bullets
into the air; the bullets then exploded into a small, black, orange, pink,
purple, and green quintuple-helix tornado that smashed away a large group
of pirates, who fell overboard!

While Wyatt tried to snipe a few foes from the crow’s nest, I could
hear his voice from the crow’s nest: “Mateo, to thy left!”  I instinctively
sliced through a “crusader’s” belly when I swung counter-clockwise and
then headed straight for Madame Martini, gesturing with my spear as if I
were to say, “Come on!  I’m ready for you, witch!”  She nodded at me,
implying, “Boy, I don’t want to send you to hell, but…”

Reluctantly, she charged toward me and launched a dark, eerie bullet,
which blasted into a holy vortex at the snap of her fingers, sucking some of
us in and greatly damaging my vest!

As Captain Beckham fought against Vodka on the plank, my spear and
Martini’s halberd clashed stridently with our combo attacks until Martini
seized the chance to cut my shoulder and kick me forwards; at first, I didn’t
feel the gash, but, after three seconds, the sting was quite unbearable!   She
then gave me a flying knee-strike to the chin, a roundhouse to the hip, and
another slash to my abdomen, followed by a plasma bolt from that fake leg
of hers.  Blood began to gush out of my wounds, but I stood my ground,
giving off more multiple thrusts/slashes, yet her corset suffered little!  Still
outraged, I executed a kick to her groin and a downward hack, but she
parried the hack, grabbed my neck, and threw me into a wooden pole!  80%
conscious, I got back on my feet and parried more of her vicious chain
attacks.  Both of us got cut at the hips and thighs, but, sadly, I had more
wounds.  I then painfully fell to the deck before Martini could knock me
down; she hesitated to finish me.  Blood seeping through the side of my
lips, I nodded, implying, “I know you want me!  I’m too handsome to
die!—I think.”  At a snail’s pace, I pulled off the ring and tossed it to my
right as if I were to say, “Well, I’m yours now!  My werefox betrothed will
understand; she doesn’t look that good as you anyways.”  She then
hesitated, thinking, “Am I going to kill him or keep him?”  Gradually,
I rested my left hand beside my hip—where my magic pistol was!  As she
stood there hesitantly, I quickly pulled out that pistol and delivered a semi-
explosive shadow nebula that knocked her and Vodka overboard!

Suddenly, the dark clouds drifted away, and the orange sun shone
from the clear green sky again!  Eventually, we won the fight, and only a
small percentage of our crew died, thanks to Wyatt’s superior sniping.  The
smell of blood and metal drifted away when my comrades helped me up and
mended my wounds.  Satoko and William ran back to the deck with some
black and gold treasure chests, exclaiming, “Yeah!  Mateo, look at these:
they’re bullions of platinum!  We don’t have to work for the rest of our lives.  
Now, we can sail to the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii)!”

“S—Sandwich Isles?” I said half-conscious, trying to lighten the mood,
“I was thinking about Costa Rica or somewhere in the Far East.”

“They’ll be back, I assure thee!” said Beckham, “But, now, who’s going
to steer the Most Holy for me?”  Everybody looked to me as if they were to
say, “You suffered the most; you should drive Most Holy!”  I looked at them,
implying, “Me?  I’m a merchant; I’m no captain!  Let Satoko do it!  I hate
using compasses…!”  Eventually, after some arguing, Satoko decided to
steer the ship; sadly, Satoko “tortured” me the rest of the trip as she taught
me how to used a compass, scolding me when I didn’t read it right,
shouting, “No, no, NO!  What’s wrong with you?  What did I just tell you!?  
Do you need another blow to the head!?”

Four days later, we arrived in South Africa and made a fortune off our
merchandise!  I stayed there until my wounds healed and returned with the
others back to Australia.  In the market place at the Australian port,
my betrothed and I spotted a dark werewolf, who looked at me as if she
were to say, “It—it’s you!”

“What’s wrong?  Don’t you flirt with her!” my betrothed yelled at me,
but I said, “NO, no, hell no!  Uh, why don’t we go somewhere else—”  

“Somewhere else!  You promised to take me to Bamiyan, you little
urchin!  Satoko was right about you!” she said; although I had a slight build,
when I stand next to my betrothed, I look like the wife!

“Laguzi, that woman is ‘wrong’!  She’s always ‘wrong’—except when it comes to compasses!  Look, Laguzi, this is a bit complicated; isn’t there another Bamiyan around here?”  She replied, “Well, yes, but it’s a mile
away—”  “Then, let’s go!” I said, “I’ll tell you why later…”

Martini returned to her business as we walked away from the busy
market place.  I kept my right hand in my vest, clinging to a pistol, and told
Laguzi to cling to hers…