very next moment a dozen desperate creatures jump overboard, intent on
swimming over to the battle ship.
Stop you, fools! – cries Libero from the main mast, his black cape
flapping in the wind like the wings of a crow.
seamen of the Cerberus wager on whether any of the idiots will reach
them, but when some close in, the soldiers cock their muskets and start
shooting at the swimmers.
Murderers! - howls Libero, as the sea around the Deliverance turns red
as if from a slaughter of seals. The fools answer in a demented choir of
bellows, barks and misarticulated despair. The scribe spits on his
tinted quill-shaped fingernails – WE ARE LOST! – he writes in his
book. Swift and merciless, the Cerberus is soon but a dark spot on the
Maddick disappears below deck to violate the dying women from the
infirmary. Kicks Clove’s behind for luck. Christina exclaims she has
the best pair of tits of all
The Pope should make me a cardinal!
The crooked rhymesmith Premonition recites his ode
to a tulip to a school of mongoloids:
Isn’t that the flower that looks like a vagina?
and Odd bury themselves in the ropes, Even drying Odd’s eyes with the
torn sleeve of their shirt.
The sea! – screams innocent Francesca – The sea is going to drown
She takes off her shoes to not get them wet waiting for her final hour, pale and still as a virgin candle.
as mad as the devil that spawned him, beats on the helm with a rusty axe
he had dislodged from a rat-gnawed skeleton bellow.
Libero flies down from his nest to prevent him from making even grater
Brace yourselves, you cursed souls! Not all is lost!
startled fools gaze at him like he’s going to lay an egg.
Let’s choose the most worthy amongst us to lead us out of this
predicament! – Libero offers.
fools are amused, they stick out their pale tongues to show just how
- I want to be a king! I want to be a cardinal! I want to be a God!