• and while they smell terrible
• They want very much to be pregnant
• the permanence that a tattoo offers
• determines if the story told will be epic or horrific
• shining jewel in the crown

Tune in next time part 580    Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Remember this place is guarded by pirates,” I wanted to say, but the bejeweled false teeth prevented it. I tried pantomime, but Tessa didn’t seem to understand. She descended the rope ladder and I had little choice but to follow. Brandita and the Baron remained unconscious on the living room floor.

Stepping outside, we immediately found ourselves confronted by two elderly but heavily armed pirate wenches. The thing about these guards is that they’ve been seasoned by years in the salt wind, and while they smell terrible they are deadly with a blade. They are also not too bright, and Tessa easily talked us past them.

“They want very much to be pregnant,” Tessa explained to me as she started up Brandita’s motorbike and I climbed into the bathtub-sidecar. Jeff was nowhere to be seen. This puzzled me, as I thought his haunting of the tub carried the permanence that a tattoo offers.

Now that we were away from the guards, I spat out the sparkly chompers so I could speak. “We’re going to have quite a story to tell when we get back to civilization,” I said. She revved the engine. “You do know how to drive this thing, right?” I asked, knowing that her answer would be the sort of thing that determines if the story told will be epic or horrific.

Her answer was to rocket us onto the precarious road at such alarming speed that I almost dropped the diamond-encrusted dentures. Sun glinted off a particularly impressive stone, the shining jewel in the crown of teeth.

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• hear the organist practicing
• he worked that shift at the opera
• unique bruise and a one-of-a-kind story
• slinging strawberries and Ding Dongs
• bottle that says Deadly Poison

Tune in next time part 582    Click Here for Earlier Installments

With the Tessabot’s manic driving, we reached the harbor in no time. Overlooking the water on a high bluff were two churches, one a tall, spiky Gothic cathedral, the other a quaint little stone box. From one of them, I wasn’t sure which, I could hear the organist practicing even over the growl of the motorbike.

Viscount Jeff wiggled a finger in his phantasmal ear. “It never used to be so loud,” he said, “but ever since he worked that shift at the opera house on the mainland, Joey’s gone in for maximum volume. That’s why he connected up the organ pipes to a geothermal vent, a task which left him with a unique bruise and a one-of-a-kind story.”

I merely nodded, my attention riveted to the precarious switchbacks Tessa was hurtling around. I braced myself against the rim of the bathtub sidecar to keep from being flung out and plummeting into the surf far below.

“Joey’s a good kid,” Jeff went on. “Before he landed this gig, he was living off his winnings at the carnival, slinging strawberries and Ding Dongs at spinning targets. Well, I’m sure you know all about the carnival.”

I was barely listening. The ride was terrifying, and yet the prospect of escape from this wretched island was growing nearer each second.

“Anyway,” Jeff said in a more subdued tone, “let me give you a little advice. Don’t accept a drink from Joey if he pours it from a bottle that says Deadly Poison. I mean, like I said, he’s a good kid. He showed me the label, for crying out loud. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

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• feels like the action of an insane person
• She made a pig-sound.
• lounging on a large boat with a man
• seashells in their pocket?
• YouTube channel where he showcases his favorite accordion songs

Tune in next time part 586    Click Here for Earlier Installments

I looked at Tessa, and she shrugged. I scowled at her, and she smirked.

“Shouldn’t we argue the point?” I asked. “Debarking upon these unknown shores feels like the action of an insane person.”

She made a pig-sound. It was extremely lifelike, doubtless a high-quality audio file stored somewhere in her databanks. And it was obviously all the answer I would get. She was tired of lounging on a large boat with a man who wouldn’t tell us his name, tired of hearing me play the bongos. I looked at the chilly peaks jutting from the waves just ahead of us, and tried one more time.

“Who wouldn’t rather be dropped off someplace tropical, where they might find soft sand between their toes and seashells in their pocket?”

She shook her head. I could tell she knew something about this archipelago.

The captain found a place where he could get close enough for us to avoid getting wet as we alit on the rugged coast. He never did reveal his name, only the link to his YouTube channel where he showcases his favorite accordion songs.

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• “Hey! Great minds, yeah?”
• raising her voice and swearing at me
• adding it to my vocabulary
• in the most embarrassing place
• wants the elephant rather than the cash

Tune in next time part 588    Click Here for Earlier Installments

We were indeed on Contrarian soil. The shrine to Buzzlyncia meant these had to be the Isles of Bumpengrynd. They were a remote protectorate, claimed by William Penn VII mainly because no one else wanted them. The old saying is true: a Contrarian Warlord is a guy who wants the elephant rather than the cash.

Now that I had deduced our location, I knew we had to head west across the island to reach the only population center of any meaningful size. Twerkistan was built with the most demoralizing materials and situated in the most embarrassing place — at the base of a deep crack between two hills, where a geothermal vent emitted sulfurous fumes.

The paparazzo’s tracks in the snow led due west, so I knew he must already be hurrying back to Twerkistan. “If we hurry, we can catch him,” I said. The Tessabot nodded savagely and took off, calling the photog something so inventively obscene I needed a moment to decipher it before adding it to my vocabulary. This meant I wasn’t keeping up, so Tessa employed a stream of motivational profanity, raising her voice and swearing at me this time.

The snow was wet and heavy, slowing us both down. Especially me. But a few minutes into our trek we spotted a figure far ahead of us. Too far to have any hope of overtaking him under these conditions. Simultaneously, Tessa and I siezed branches from nearby trees and wove them into makeshift snowshoes.

“Hey! Great minds, yeah?” I said.

“This is basic Academy stuff,” the Tessabot replied. “Now, save your breath for running!”

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