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In a land not too far away, on a cliff ominously facing the sea, on the porch of a house parked near the edge of said cliff, on a rocking chair next to a good-sized cannon ball, was Jebediah Satan.

He was an old man, and the years had not taken kindly to his bony frame.  He sat on his rocking chair, watching the sea, minding the cannon ball, waiting for the moment to arrive when it would either strike dead its fated target or else rust to nothing in the cruel salty breeze.  It held up well so far, but sometimes he swore that either his eyes were getting worse or the ball had gained a spot or two of rust like flecks of mold on bread.  He'd nursed the stupid thing long enough; it might as well start behaving itself and obeying common laws of physics.  Like those that said iron got rusty.

The ball rusted-or-didn't-rust, his rocking chair creaked away, and the wind blew as it tended to.  He pulled out his old guitar, tuned it a bit, gave it a test pluck, and away he went:

"'Twas just about a month ago they sailed on out to sea
On thirteen stolen ships they sailed into the blue and free
The mighty Frannie at the helm, her sword and knife so keen
The fearsome Sally, smart 'n quick, possessed of ease and spleen
And with them captive Margaret, the poor wee gal so doomed
By Nanami and Takumi, the Nipponese presumed
To own a boat both fair and swift to see them to the shore
You've waited now about two weeks, and now you'll get some more!"

It was the only song he knew.

* * *

Meanwhile, Maggie was trying to escape.  The Golgotha was the nerve center of the Island Nation of Satanistan, but the Real Underground Baby was its legs.  Or at least was the part of the brain that controlled the legs.  It had once been a motorboat.  Now it was the Platonic ideal form of motorboats, little more than a wooden seat with pretensions attached to a massive and unstable-looking block of engines and wires and assorted nastiness that could propel the whole bloated bulk of Mi>Satanistan</i> if the wind turned against them.  She was no sailing woman, nor had she any clue where land was, but there were enough rations to last her a while, and if she just kept going east, she was bound to hit the west coast of the U.S. eventually.  Right?

All she needed was a push.  One solid push and she'd be free from this whole stupid exercise.  It was enough to get her to brave Real Underground Baby's scary nest of engines.  She braced herself against the center motor and yanked the cord.


She inspected the motor.  She wasn't too familiar with motors, but it at least seemed to be in good repair, and the tank (well, all the tanks she could reach) were full.  She found another cord, and another, and none of them seemed to work.  She climbed onto the biggest cluster of engines and tried to feel around for anything--a switch, a key, functioning pull cords, anything at all.  Maybe Sally had rigged something ridiculous to--

"Heyo," Sally said.

"Aggagh!" said Maggie.

"Yeah.  That's not going to work."  Sally offered her a hand.  Maggie, after a moment of thought, held out her own hand.  Sally pulled her down.  "First, it takes more than one person to turn on the engine.  Two, I'm not going to tell you how.  And third, you'll get lost and maybe die.  That'd just be plain negligent if we let you do that."

Maggie grumbled.  "This whole thing is stupid."

"Hey, it's not that stupid," Sally said.  "I mean, we're making some serious headway in taking over the world.  We got a whole new boat, and the guys on it are Asian."

"...wait, what?!  Asian?!  What kind of Asian?"

Sally shrugged.  "I 'unno.  But one of 'em kind of speaks English, so hey."  She scratched her back with her baseball bat.  "Anyhow, we should probably get back.  Probably that one guy is trying to fight Frannie."

* * *

Meanwhile, Takumi, that one guy, was trying to fight Frannie.
A bit on the short side, but longer than the first installment, so hey!

It's back at last.
Add a Comment:
AnonDesu Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
Notre Dame Fightin' Asians
DeviantRye Featured By Owner Sep 12, 2009
You know what this reminds me of? Stephen King's Gunslinger series.
KriegsaffeNo9 Featured By Owner Sep 12, 2009
Seriously? Thanks! I love those books.

Anything specific, or just a general feel?
DeviantRye Featured By Owner Sep 12, 2009
You make use of song, which appears to not make any sense... yet. :D The song is in fact, about your protagonists, which again adds to the whole Gunslinger feeling. It keeps people wondering what the hell is going on, while continuing to read.

Keep it up!
theBSDude Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
KriegsaffeNo9 Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2009
Updates will be henceforth as regular as school and other concerns permit.

Double yay?
theBSDude Featured By Owner Sep 1, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
Sure, why not.
Add a Comment:

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