Day 7- Sailing Straight

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Literature Text

Bill burst into his home with an oversized cardboard box in his arms. He entered his apartment with a stream of expletives, scaring several neighbors. He kicked his shoes across the apartment and dropped the package to the floor. It was obscenely large, and addressed to him from his brother. John Macarthur was not a man to be trusted. But when Bill ripped the box open, nothing jumped out.

Bill stared at the contents of the box in confusion. The cardboard prison held a large, R-rated pillow. Bill scratched his head as the woman shaped pillow stared at him. She had a note taped to her left breast.

“Hey kid. Heard Monica dumped you and felt kinda bad. Here’s something to keep you amused. Her name’s Gizelle.


“Asshole,” Bill said. He kicked Gizelle’s box into the corner, then stomped into his room.

In a funk, he navigated the dark room, yanked sweaty socks off, and collapsed face down on his bed. His thoughts turned mushy and he fell asleep in minutes.

Bill woke to a woman in his arms.

She was soft and curvaceous. Bill was still in his security vest, an orange and yellow mesh monstrosity, and cold from sleeping above the covers. He groaned at the stiffness of his body and blinked both eyes repeatedly. Gizelle stared back at him. His hand laid on her massive, cottony chest.

Someone coughed, and all thoughts fled from his sexy pillow. Bill twisted around violently, straining to see the intruder. He could make out a shape in the dimness, just beyond the light from his window. He heart went off like a firecracker; six months of training pooled out of his ears.

He fumbled for his gun with sleep-stiff claw hands.

“Shit,” he said, hearing a gun cock.

A woman bedroom stepped out of the darkness, moving into the moonlight from hiw window. She was magnetically beautiful. Her beauty was lost on Bill, however, who stared at the gun pointed at his face. Even the libido of a rookie traffic cop with a delicate ego and a sexy pillow girlfriend couldn’t outshine the fear of getting his face blown off.

“Just relax,” she barked. “Sit back.”

The intruder was dressed like a proper pirate. Her pistol was flintlock, gorgeous, bathed in moonlight. She was tall and lithely muscled.

“What do you want?” Bill’s voice cracked.  

“I’m looking for a ring,” she answered.

“There are better ways to get one,” Bill said. “A boyfriend first, though-”

“Hush,” she snapped. “I know you have the ring.”.

Like a lightning bolt, she jumped up on his bed. Bill screeched as she walked towards him,bed springs squeaking in protest. She crouched in front of him and poked the pistol into his throat.

She grabbed his left hand, yanking it up and twisting. She inspected the ring he wore: a grey band, inlaid with several darker stones. It was a grim thing his grandmother gave him after his mother’s funeral. The old witch told him it held the dreams she and his mother gave up to have children.

Inlaid patterns on her pistol glowed as she brought his hand back towards it.

“I want this ring,” she growled.

Bill thought about how the ring was a horrible token of a bleak childhood.

“Please take it,” he said, sincerely.

“Oh,” she said, looking surprised. “That was easy.”

She slid off the bed, shot a victorious look at her new ring, then moved for the door.

“Wait,” he said. She paused there, in his gloomy bedroom.

“Care for an adventure?” she laughed.

Before he could answer, she was gone. Bill figured he was losing his mind.

He collapsed on the bed again. He had to sleep, eventually. The traffic wasn’t going to direct itself. After a few long, surreal moments, distant shouts roused him.

The light in his closet turned on. As he stared, the light intensified, leaking past the edges. The closet door smashed open, letting in a rough wind and the smell of sharp, salty air. A man stood in his closet, arm outstretched, a sword at his hip.

“Come on, lad,” he yelled. “The cap’n won’t wait forever.”

Bill did what every dissatisfied traffic cop would do in his situation.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, flinging himself towards his closet. He glanced back at his room and instantly regretted it. Gizelle was on his bed, plush lips forever pursed. This is how his fellow cops would find his room.

The pirate grabbed Bill’s safety vest and hauled him into the closet.

Once through, he looked out at a pirate ship, surrounded by buccaneers. A few cheered as he stumbled onto the deck.

“Welcome to The Bloody Mutiny!” the pirates chorused, while all slicing their fingers across their throats in unison.

A tattooed man, covered in fantastical illustrations, clapped Bill on the shoulder.

“Oy, William,” the man said, grinning. “Welcome to the ship. We’ve had our eyes on you.”

The man’s voice was like dark wine, a humming thickness to his tone. Bill found he couldn’t look away from him.

“Right, great, thank you, and you are?” Bill found himself shaking the man’s hand.

There was an energy between them, something electric he couldn’t explain. He tried not to stare, but there was a story begging to be told on every inch of Garrett.

“Garrett Sandusky, first mate.” He finally dropped Bill’s hand. “You should speak to Vanessa. There’s a welcome speech.”

Bill tried to respond, but the men were thrown against the side of the ship.

The ship rocked violently, water shooting up and spraying the deck. Garrett pulled Bill down, pinning him against the side of the ship.

“Brace!” someone screamed. The ship rolled and bucked.

“In we go, we don’t know where,” the crewman chanted, and Garrett picked up the chant.

“So long as there’s rum,

We really don’t care.”

The ship passed into a white light. The last thing Bill saw was Garrett flashing him a grin and winking.
Super late, but I did it! I kicked this challenge's butt!
There's a swear in it. :giggle:

Word count:  999

Challenge: (Pick your own challenge)
Object: Sexy pillow
List A: 999 words (I cut it down from TWO THOUSAND AND TWO HUNDRED :stare:)
List B: Bodice ripper (Kinda? No actual bodice ripping shenanigans, but plenty of setup)
List C: Bored traffic cop (and a pirate for bonus points, though clearly not retired)
List D: Family heirloom (granny's mean spirited ring)

May contain nude pillows, gay pirates, time travel, and rings made of dead dreams
© 2015 - 2022 IntelligentZombie
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GDeyke's avatar
I seriously love this part:
Bill thought about how the ring was a horrible token of a bleak childhood.

“Please take it,” he said, sincerely.