“He Better Be Dead”
Scandinavian alternate universe versions- built like a brick catastrophe
- sly, evil smile
- tap-dancing, yodeling, you name it!
- “Those pleated pants aren’t super flattering.”
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“He better be dead,” Fleur said, still in that same sing-song voice she’d decided was the best way to communicate with me. She leaned way over the bar to address the supine bartender. “Otherwise he’ll need a good flogging for lying down on the job. But Gulliver knows that, doesn’t he?”
The fragrant bubbles in my brain were beginning to pop, each one releasing a strange thought. One of those thoughts was that there must be Scandinavian alternate universe versions of Gulliver’s Travels where the tiny people glue him down with frozen piss. I doubted that it would suffice to restrain this Gulliver, though. He was built like a brick catastrophe, lumpen but in a powerful way. The smurf mask’s expression seemed to change as I stared at it, the grin evolving into a sly, evil smile. Was it not a mask after all? Or was my over-nogged noggin making me see things?
Fleur announced, “Time for us to leave. We’re awaited in steerage.”
I was sure I’d misheard her. “You’d never willingly go down there.”
“That’s what you think. They have the best parties. There’s always bullriding, tap-dancing, yodeling, you name it!”
At the mention of yodeling, another bubble popped in my brain, making me wonder if Yolanda might be there. To my horror, I heard myself ask my wife, “Will Yolanda be there?”
Fleur shot me a sharp look, but she didn’t seem irate. She said, “Probably, which means you’ll probably want to stop off along the way for something else to wear.” She tsked. “Those pleated pants aren’t super flattering.”
bonus points for using them in order