by Mingua, Wren
“Izzit?”
“It is.” She held open the door for him and held her breath as he walked inside. He really did smell horrid, like a dozen rotten eggs sitting on a fetid corpse. “Okay, Algar, the bathroom's over here...”
As soon as they stepped into the bathroom together, his eyes were drawn to the toilet. “That's fancy, innit?” After a few seconds of silence, he added, “What izzit?”
Miranda chuckled a bit. “It's pretty much your standard toilet.”
He jiggled the toilet's handle with his hook hand. “What do you do with it?”
“Umm... really?! You're really going to stand there and pretend you have no idea how to use a toilet?”
“Really, Love, really,” Algar insisted. “I have no feckin' clue.”
“Alright then...” Miranda took a deep breath and resisted the temptation to roll her eyes yet again. “You, uh, you urinate into this bowl here. And when you're all done, you push the handle.” Miranda flushed the toilet, demonstrating for him. When he heard the whoosh of the water, Algar let out a gasp.
“Wot the fuck?!” he exclaimed.
“And then the water goes bye bye,” Miranda said. “It's as easy as that.”
“And yer piss?”
“That's gone too.”
“What about your shite?”
“Also gone.”
“Well... where does it go?” His expression was a mixture of horror and awe.
“Just don't worry about it, okay? Go pee, flush the toilet, and I'll have something to eat for you when you get out,” Miranda said. “I'll be in the kitchen. Do you think you can handle it?”
“Aye.”
He started to remove his pants again, so Miranda shouted.“WAIT! Wait until I leave, okay? I don't want to have to see... that.” His man parts were already halfway out of his trousers, so she squinted her eyes and backed out of the bathroom. “I really didn't need to see that...”
Miranda went back to the kitchen and started preparing a turkey club sandwich for her unwanted guest. Then she grabbed a bag of Ruffles potato chips from the cupboard and tossed them on the table with the sandwich. Since the thought of him sitting in her chair made her nauseous, Miranda found some old newspapers and used them to cover the seat.
When she heard the whoosh of the toilet, she was a bit relieved. He straggled into the kitchen a few seconds later, so she had to ask, “Did you wash your hands?”
“Did I wot?”
“Wash your hands,” Miranda repeated. “You should always wash your hands after you go potty.” She almost laughed at her usage of the word potty. She felt like she was instructing a toddler. “Here, come over to the kitchen sink..”
Algar stepped over to her and watched her turn on the faucet. “Wow...” He was awed by it. “Where's all that water come from? A well?”
“Umm... sort of. Okay, now you'll have to remove your hook.”
“Me hook?” He raised it up. “Aye, Love. Alright.” Algar popped off the hook and laid it on the counter. When he did, he revealed the mangled stump of flesh where his hand used to be. Miranda gasped a bit. She never suspected the hook was actually hiding a missing hand.
“Now, uh, put your hand under the water.” When he did, she squirted an immense amount of anti-bacterial hand soap into his hand. “Now you'll have to lather it up.”
“Wot?”
“Here.” Miranda grabbed his hand, as gross as it was, and worked the soap into a lather. He might have been filthy and disgusting everywhere else, but at least he would have a clean hand to eat with. It gave her some relief.
When he was done washing and rinsing his hand, Miranda ripped off a paper towel and handed it to him. “Now, I've made you a sandwich,” she went on. “It's right over here. You need to sit in this chair, so--”
As he sank into the chair, Algar said, “You're really sweet, Angel.”
“No, I'm not,” Miranda protested with a chuckle. She watched him scarf his sandwich, which he gobbled down like a veritable pig. “You know what these are, don't you?” She opened the Ruffles and sprinkled a few chips onto his plate.
“No.” Algar plucked one of the potato chips from his plate and held it between two fingers. He held it up to the light, scrutinizing it, staring at it like it was a potato chip from a legend. “What is it?”
“They're potato chips. Eat it. You'll like it.”
Algar tossed it into his mouth, grinning as he crunched on it. “Mmm... I rather think I do!”
So Miranda sprinkled a few more chips onto his plate. He grabbed a handful of potato chips and shoveled them into his mouth, inhaling them. Bits of potato chip crumbs rained down on the floor, making Miranda groan. Not only would she have to fumigate the place, she would have to sweep and mop the kitchen floor.
“By the way, Algar, do you think you could, uh...” She took a deep breath, hesitating a moment. “Do you think you could give me your sword, at least while you're here? I don't know if there's a real sword in there, but it's making me nervous.”
“Sure, Love.” Algar removed his sheath and slammed it down on the table, which made her jump.
Miranda took the sheath from the table and pulled on the sword's handle. When she realized there was, in fact, a real sword inside, she could feel her stomach coiling in knots.
“But you can keep your hook if you want to.” Miranda laid the hook on the table and nudged it toward him. “It looks dangerous, but if you need it--”
“It's alright, Angel. You can have it.” Algar used his stump to scratch his forehead. “It's jes for decoration n' all.” He devoured his last bite of sandwich and turned his attention back to the chips, which he munched and crunched on until they were gone.
“Now, I don't mean to be rude, but...” Miranda pinched her nose for a few seconds, hoping he would take a hint. It was a wonder his body odor wasn't peeling the paint off the walls. “Do you think you might want to take a shower?”
“A what?”
So he didn't know what a shower was—at least, he was pretending not to know what a shower was. Why should she be surprised? “You can, uh, wash your body. I can give you some clean clothes, if you want. I still have some of my boyfriend's old clothes, so...”
“Your boyfriend?” Algar gave his ratty beard a few strokes.
“My ex-boyfriend,” she corrected herself. “I used to live with him... until my sister moved in. He left some of his clothes behind, and I still wear them from time to time... when I feel like I want to wear something oversized and extra-comfy.” Miranda laughed at her loquacious answer. “I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. Anyway, do you want to take a shower?”
“Uh...”
He was utterly perplexed, so she took him back to the bathroom and pointed out the shower head. “You turn it on... water comes out... you stand under it, then you wash yourself off.” Miranda grabbed a bar of soap and held it under his nose. “This is soap. You know what soap is, don't you?”
Algar shook his head. He looked a bit disappointed in himself, so she stopped herself from grumbling. As smelly as he was, it was no surprise he had no prior experience with soap.
“You pair up soap with a washcloth, like so...” She grabbed a cloth from the cupboard and demonstrated for him. “You lather it up, and scrub scrub scrub.”
“Scrub scrub scrub,” he repeated softly.
“Yes! Exactly.” Miranda turned on the water and adjusted the temperature to her liking. “You'll have to take off your clothes, of course. But wait until I--” When she turned around, Miranda saw that his pants were already around his ankles. “Leave,” she finished with a sigh.
Algar pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. It was amazing, really, how quickly he could divest himself of his clothes when he was missing a hand.
“Well then,” she murmured hopelessly, “I guess I'll... excuse myself now.”
“Sorry, Love. Am I making you uncomfortable.”
“Um... not really. I'm a big girl. It's not like I've
never seen a penis before.” A pitiful laugh popped out of her throat. “At least now I know why they call you Algar the Scar.” Her eyes were momentarily drawn to a long, U-shaped scar around his left hip. “That must have hurt.”
“I have many scars, Love.” As Algar stepped into the shower, she saw another one—a puncture wound near his shoulder. “Many scars... inside n' out.”
“Well, uh... enjoy your shower!” Miranda exclaimed. “I'll leave my ex-boyfriend's clothes outside the door. Don't forget to put them on before you leave the bathroom, okay?”
“Aye.”
“Promise me!” Miranda insisted. “I don't want you wandering around the house in the nude.”
When he stuck his head out of the shower, his scraggly beard was already sopping wet. “I promise.”
“Good. I'll, uh, see you later. And don't forget to scrub!”
Miranda sprinted out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. What had possessed her to invite the pirate into her house? Was she losing her mind?
It seemed that Lily's addled brains were a spreading epidemic.
Chapter Five
When Algar emerged from the bathroom, Miranda thought it was a significant improvement. He was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, and most of the filth had been purged from his body. Most importantly, he no longer smelled like the rotten end of a cow. In fact, when he sat next to her on the couch, she even caught a whiff of Irish Spring emanating from his direction.
However, there was still room for improvement. His soggy beard was more tangled than ever, and his long, black hair looked as if it had been dipped in a vat of grease.
“Ahoy there, Love.” Algar laid his hand on Miranda's lap, right on top of her knee. She took him by the wrist and gently removed his arm.
“Hello. You look... cleaner,” she noted.
“I feel emasculated.”
“Emasculated?!” Miranda repeated with a chuckle. “That's a big word for a pirate.”
“It is, innit?” He flashed a grin. “I'm not as stupid as I look.”
“O... kay.” The hesitation in her voice did little to disguise her disbelief. “Did you use the shampoo?”
“The sham wot?”
“The shampoo.” When the repeated word was met with a blank stare, she explained, “You know... you use it to wash your hair?”
“Me hair? Why would I wash me hair?”
“Umm... okay!” It was a lost cause, so Miranda decided to change the subject. “Do you want to watch some tv?”
“Some what?” Algar looked more and more puzzled by the second, as if every word she said was driving him deeper into oblivion.
“The television,” Miranda said. Remembering his British accent, she added, “The telly.”
The front door opened, which saved her from having to explain things further. Lily entered the living room and tossed her keys in her purse. As soon as she saw Algar sitting on the couch, the purse slipped out of her hand and crashed against the floor. “Uh... Miranda!?”
“Hmm?” Miranda smiled innocently.
“Miranda... why is Algar the Scar sitting in our living room?”
“I invited him in,” Miranda explained. “I gave him some food, and I let him take a shower.”
“I can see that.” Shocked as she was by his newfound cleanliness, Lily couldn't tear her eyes away from him. “He looks good.”
“Thanks, Petal,” Algar said. “If you'd like, you can come sit on me lap.”
“Don't.” Miranda saw Lily make a move toward Algar, so she wagged a finger at her. “Don't even think about it.”
“I wasn't!”
Miranda didn't believe her for a second. Her sister had a tendency to flirt with anyone and everyone. Any male who was willing to give her attention was fair game, and bedraggled vagabond pirates were surely no exception.
Lily sat on the couch, wedging herself between Algar and her sister. “Anyway, Miranda, I'm impressed! This is so out of character for you. Inviting strange guys into the house while I'm out?”
“You need more emphasis on the word strange,” Miranda said, shooting a dubious glance at Algar, who was currently picking his teeth with his pinkie fingernail.
“Oh my god... your hook's off!” Lily gasped. She grabbed Algar's wrist and held his stump in front of her face. “So you were really missing your hand?! No shit?!”
“Aye.”
“Jesus!” Lily tapped the stump with the palm of her hand. “How did you lose it? It must have hurt like hell!”
“Aye,” he said again. “Do you really want to know? It's a grisly tale... not for the faint of heart.”
“I don't want to know,” Miranda said.
“Tell me!” Lily countered. “I want to know!”
Algar closed his eyes as he recited the story. “I was captured by an enemy pirate... Captain Worthington Filth. I was imprisoned for days, with only the rats to keep me company. They fed me stale bread and--”
“This is ridiculous...” Miranda whispered to herself.
“--moldy cheese,” Algar continued. “When my spirit was broken, and they'd flogged me within an inch of me life, they decided it was time to question me. They needed information out of me, see... information only I knew about! When I didn't tell them what they wanted to know, they started cutting off my fingers, one atta time. And they fed my fingers to their dogs.”
“Ewww!” Lily exclaimed. “That's so gross!”
“I held out longer than they expected,” Algar said, “At the end of the day, they lopped off my whole hand, and I still didn't tell them what they needed to know.”
“That's very brave of you,” Lily said. “What happened after that?”
“My crew found me. Those lads are a bunch of numbskulls on a good day, but they know how to fight. It was a bloody battle, and the fighting was vicious, but we emerged victorious. As for the bloke who chopped off my hand, he got his just desserts.”
Lily asked, “What did you do to him?”
“Cut off his tongue and fed his liver to his dogs,” Algar matter-of-factly stated. “If you ask me, it was no less than 'e deserved.”
“Wow,” Lily murmured, and her awe made her sister roll her eyes. “That sounds crazy. I've always wanted to know... what's it like to be a pirate? It's not as glamorous as it is in the movies, is it? Like... what do you guys do on a regular basis?”
“The usual. Pillage. Plunder,” Algar said. “If you're lucky, you might have a map to point you in the direction of some loot.” He ran his stump across her bare leg, which was exposed by her miniskirt. “I'd love to plunder your treasure, Lily Petal.”
“Okay!” Miranda picked up one of the couch cushions and used it to clobber his head. “That's enough of that. You can't talk to my sister like that when I'm sitting right here!”
“It's alright,” Lily voiced her opinion. “I like it when guys talk dirty to me.”
“Lily!” Miranda shrieked. The couch cushion hovered a few inches over her sister's head. If she had to use it again, she would. She leaned toward Lily and whispered. “Why are you flirting with this quack?! He could be dangerous for all you know!”
“You're the one who invited him in the house!” Lily pointed out.
“True... but I'm not flirting with him! Being nice to him and begging for it are two very different things!”
“And why shouldn't I flirt with him?” Lily hissed at her sister. “I happen to think he's pretty attractive.”
“Are you kidding me?!”
“No!” Lily insisted. “He sort of looks like a rock star. It's sexy.”
“What sort of frickin' rock stars have you been looking at lately?!” Miranda stared at Algar for several seconds, but no matter how long she stared at him, she couldn't find him even slightly attractive. “Besides... he's friggin' nuts!”
Lily pouted. “Why do you say that?”
“Do I even need to explain it to you?!” Miranda raked her hands down her face in despair. Apparently, there was no end to her sister's
daftness. “He says he's a pirate, and he doesn't even know what shampoo is!”
“Why does that make him crazy?” Lily asked, crossing her arms over her chest in protest. “Maybe he really is a pirate. Maybe he really doesn't know what shampoo is!”
“And maybe you're as gullible as a two-day-old baby!” Finished with the argument, Miranda turned on the television and started rapidly flipping around the channels. Predictably, Algar's awe-stricken eyes were fastened on the screen.
“What in the world...?” he whispered. He leaned forward on the couch, moving as close to the television as possible.
“It's a television,” Lily cheerfully explained.
“H-how does it work?” Algar stammered. At the moment, Miranda was watching the middle of a sitcom. A married couple was laying in bed together, arguing with each other amid a storm of canned laughter. “How did those people get in there?! Did someone shrink them down?”
“No!” Lily giggled. “They're not actually in there. The show was taped awhile ago, and now we get to watch them on tv.”
“Taped?” Algar scratched his head. When Miranda looked over at him, she noticed his fingernails were as filthy as ever. Apparently, he didn't scrub hard enough.
“They tape it with a video camera, and then they edit it and stuff,” Lily tried to explain, even though every word she said was clearly going over his head. “Just don't think about it too much, Algar. Just sit back and enjoy the show.”
“Sit back...” Algar leaned back and clasped his hands—the stump too—behind his head, which had Miranda thinking he needed some deodorant as well. “And enjoy the show.”
“Exactly!” Lily gave him a reassuring pat on the leg.
“I'd rather enjoy you, Petal,” Algar said, “I'd love to taste your sweet nectar... nuzzle my cheek against your--”
“ALGAR!” Miranda screamed at him, her eyes flashing with fury. “Seriously... if you say one more nasty thing to my sister, I'm throwing you out of the house again!”
Lily gave her older sister a nudge. “Don't be such a spoilsport, Miranda! I already told you...” She looked over at Algar and winked. “I like bad boys.”