“What in the cluck is going on, Green Garey?! What are these things?!” Pamela scribbled the throngs of giant pinecones in her notebook, wishing only that instead she could be sketching thongs (or a lack thereof).

“Avast ye?” Green Garey had been so wholefartedly catching up with Purple Perry (who had adopted the gambling persona ‘Bleu Louie’ to help make some extra cash after several provinces outlawed skywhaling) that he hadn’t even noticed the flaming boulders crashing into the skyacht at all angles and the various sizes of fires sparking all around them.

“Green Garey you’ve been around the sky before. Have you ever heard anything about giant floating pinecones firing flaming boulders at all angles?”

“Parrmela tharrrt’s arrrbsarrrgd!”

PSHOMMMMMMMM KKSSKSKTTKTTTT

A boulder smashed into the wooden dome a couple feet away from them.

“Well shit,” Green Garey grimaced, “Aye guess it’s not tharrt arrrbsarrrgd.”

“Hah. Hah. Hah. Hah.”

Purple Perry raised an ayebrow. “Whoo in the cluuuck be laurrrghing?”

“Mwa. Mwa hah. Mwa hahahaha.”

It was Dorma, still tightly tied to the mast.

“Mwahahah hahaha. MWAhahaha. MWA, MWA, MWAHAAHAHA HAHHAHHAHAHAHHAAAAHAHHAAAHAAAAAA!”

Pamela walked up to Dorma and smacked her in the face a couple times with her notebook.

PFFFMK PFFMK

“Shut the cluck up!”

Dorma giggled in a singsong voice, “I know something you don’t know! HAHAHAHAAAA!”

PFFFMK PFFFMK PFFFMK PFFFFMK

“How many times to I have to hit you before you shut the cluck up?!”

PFFMK PFFMK

“Don’t you want to know what it is I know that you don’t know?”

PFFFMK PFFMK PFFMK

“Not really. I just want a nap.”

PFFMK PFFFMK

“I’ll never tell! MWAHAHAHAA! Stop hitting me!”

FSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The sound of magic jet propulsion distracted everyone. They turned to see a familiar face in a large, mechlike suit made of what could easily be considered kindling floating up from the deck holding a Caldonian Bulldog under one arm and a donkey with a toucan on its shoulder under the other.

TOOT TOOT

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

“G’gewd t’uh s’eeyuh y’ewuh g’gwise a’agayin! H’howup y’yewar a’wll a’awlriyut!”

“Frinkles?!” Pamela gasped and dropped her notebook.

Green Garey gaped in shock. “Yaaarg! Where did ye get such confoundiung garrrments?”

“L’leyuts j’juwst s’ayuh ah’m v’veruay r’resawersfewl.”

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERT

A loud megaphone crackled through the air.

“B’rawthur F’rayunkles, w’wawut d’dew y’ew th’aynk y’yawr d’dewang? S’stayund d’awun!”

TOOT TOOT

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

Frinkles looked back to Pamela, Green Garey and Purple Perry and chucked handfulls of dead leaves over them.

PTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPTPT

A barrage of pine needles shot out from a large pinecone and exploded a few feet away from everyone on the dome, catching the sail of the skyacht aflame.

“I’yut’s Frinkles!” Frinkles shouted. “A’awlsew, c’cluwck a’wff! L’eyuwv th’theyuz p’eeples a’alowun! A’awlsew, c’luwckan l’urn t’ew a’ayem!”

Frinkles looked back to Pamela, Green Garey and Purple Perry and chucked handfulls of dead leaves at them. “Th’iyus sh’shewuld p’prowteyuct y’ewuh!”

TOOT TOOT

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

Pamela puzzled over how in the cluck she would draw the ensuing chaos as Frinkles set the bulldog and donkey beside her, did a Royal Gourd salute, and fired up the jet propulsion system in his suit with the pull of a trigger.

“Avast ye?”

FSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Smoke billowed from Frinkles’ feet and sparks flew as he took off into the air like a rocket.

PTPTPTPTPTPTPTPT

As slow as his ascent was, and it was indeed quite slow, the floating pinecones were apparently unable to successfully hit Frinkles with any of their pine needle ammunition. The pinecones stayed exactly where they were, firing all the while, sometimes hitting each other, causing exlopsions in the air and sending a few pinecone crafts sailing down through the air in flaming bits.

TOOT TOOT

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

Three minutes had passed and Frinkles was only about eight feet above the dome. The pinecone crafts that were left, which were about half of what had been there before they fired at eachother incessantly, seemed to be about out of ammunition, as many of their pine needle guns had started clicking in disappointment. Then, the smoke from Frinkles’ feet sputtered, his legs wobbled and he crashed on the dome floor in a heap, moaning in agony.

“So,” Pamela started cautiously, watching the dead leaves swim around them mystically, “Those are Windless Forestian skyships, aren’t they?”

Frinkles let loose his weak reply, “Y’yeyas.”

“They arrrrgen’t too luckey, arrrrg they?”

TOOT TOOT TOOT

CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA BBKKBRKKBRKBKKRSSSGHKKHHKKHKKHKGFKKGGKKGKKGKKKKHKKHKKGHKKHKKK CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA

A long, snaking skytrain pummeled through the air, smashing all of the remaining pinecone crafts to bits as it continued on its continually warping and rebuilding skytracks. It was quite long, seeming to go on forever.

“Well,” Pamela chewed on her pen, “That was unexpected.”

“MWAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHHAAAAAA!!!” Dorma leapt from the burning mast, her bindings melted to bits, and pounced towards Pamela, claws outstretched. The dead leaves sprung to attention and punctured her over and over again like a flurry of needles. She flopped on the floor, a limp pincushion.

“Well,” Pamela continued gnawing on her writing utensil, “That was also unexpected.”

They suddenly heard soft yet vitorlic swearing. At first it seemed like just an incredibly rude gnat, but as it got louder and louder and was interspersed with ‘Yaaarg’s and ‘Avast ye’s, the source became clear. A crusty old skyrate carrying a silver oil lamp was being chased by a small, mouthy Sheltie.

“Cock hamnit Arrngela! Down girrrl! Down! Cluck’s sake! Down!”

The skyrate disconnected his hook hand from his arm, pulled out a four pronged hook, popped it in the other’s place with a clockwise twist and pressed a button on his wrist. The hook fired into the air, followed by a line of rope emanating from the skyrate’s arm stump and wrapped around scaffolding atop one of the railcars. The captain gave his wrist button another press and—

PRRRKKSSHHT

he shot into the air, the now frightened sheltie dangling from his peg leg.

“Well,” Pamela bit so hard into her pen it snapped in half, bubbles of ink exploding in her mouth, “That was even less expected than those other things.”

“Aye knew aye should’ve gotten that grappling hook attarrchment..” Green Garey muttered in shame as he tried not to laugh at the deep purple hue of Pamela’s mouth.

The Caldonian Bulldog whined and farted nervously while making intense eye contact with Purple Perry. At first he tried to ignore it, but eventually was unable to.

“Ugh,” Purple Perry sighed and addressed everyone, though his eyes stayed locked in trance with the Bulldog, “Look, aye…aye harrve the grappling hook attarrchment. Everyone, take maye harrnd and aye will bring us up thearrrg on that skytrain.”

Pamela and Green Garey blinked and cocked their heads as if they too were dogs.

“Um,” Pamela coughed up some ink, “But why though?”

“Do ye not see the look on this doggie’s face? He’s afrraid for his kin, whatforwith the danglarrng up thearr!”

“Aye see,” Green Garey shrugged, looking at the give no clucks expression on Pamela’s face. “But whaye though?”

Purple Perry spat. “Ye call yerselves members of the Gourd?! That man up thearr is undoubtedly a criminal!”

Pamela fished around her pockets and produced another pen which she immediately started chewing. “But, like, are we really sure about that though?”

Green Garey nodded solemnly. Frinkles coughed, due to a stick lodged in his throat.

“Yes wearrr sure! Wearr sure as shit!! He’s just boarrrrded a skytrain! Tharrt on its own is illegal, is it not?”

Pamela snapped off the end of her pen with her teeth and spat it at Frinkles. “Eh, I’d say it’s in a bit of a legal gray area.”

“Aye,” nodded Green Garey, “Kind of up to arrrrr interpretation.”

“Aye hear what ye are saying,” Purple Perry nodded, “Buarrt this doggie still be lookarrng at me. And aye can’t just ignore that. Will ye come with me or won’t ye?”

Pamela smacked on bits of her pen as ink drizzled down her lips and beaded at her chin. “No.”

“Suit yerselves!” Purple Perry clutched the bulldog as if it were a babe, attached his grappling hook and raised it at the skytrain.

CHUGGA chugga chugga chugga

PRRRKKSSHHT

He fired just as the skytrain finished passing by and when his hook had reached its zenith the pielight air was clear and empty.

“Oh cockhamnit.”

A muffled sound of clucking shook the party around. And then, there was a—

BBKKRRKKKKBBKKBKKKKFFTPTPPTPTKKSHH

—giant chicken breaking through the side of the dome and breathing fire into the sky. It soared and soared higher and higher, blustering through the air towards the rapidly vanishing skytrain.

“Well,” Pamela took a handful of pens from a small leather bag, shoved them in her mouth, and chomped them all to pieces, “That was to an extreme degree less expected than all of the things before it.”

A small glass flask tumbled from the air and smashed over Frinkles’ head, some of its shards spraying over Dorma’s corpse.

“Well,” Pamela started, then thought it better left unsaid and continued crunching on her pens, ink spurting over Green Garey and Purple Perry’s aghast faces.