Written by birbee
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Monday, 18 October 2010

image for Chapter 16: God versus the Gerbils From Hell (A Birdseye View) Right Up There.............

Previously.............

A group of one hundred Gerbils of Hell stood on one side of the deck. Approximately twenty Spoof writers on the other side. All with weapons. All in a stand-off.

Masterchev took a single step forward and aimed his Glock. As he fired the first bullet towards the wall of brown fur, it was Jaggedone's words which struck a chord with me.

"So it begins Jean. Welcome to hell!"

He was not wrong, Jaggedone, it really was beginning.

The Gerbils reacted as soon as the first shot was fired, and from his vantage point up in the Crowsnest, Birbee had an aerial view of the horrors as they unfolded.

With sticky green saliva drooling from between their razor sharp teeth, the Gerbils shreiked as one after another surged forward.
The shot from Masterchev's Glock resonated over the deck, the thud as the bullet lodged in the mast of the HMS Sweetcheeks.

"For fuck's sake Taffy, where the fuck did you learn to shoot?", Morse yelled as he fired harpoon after harpoon.

"I never did boyo," yelled back Masterchev as he started to throw the bullets at the gerbils.

From high above the deck, Birbee started to shout instructions: "One over there, one there, watch out behind you, no not you Pissgums, you Charpie, shit Skoob you got two on ya son, fuck me the bastards are everywhere."

None of the warnings were heeded, or maybe they were and weren't heard, or even ignored as mayhem continued.

Somewhere in the distance a lone voice was thought to be heard, the Doc later claiming it was Imelda May, but she wasn't even in the country so that idea was later laughed out of court.


Very soon there was blood, guts, bile and other stuff covering the deck.
The whole scene would have been farcical, if it were not for the fact that the whole crew were fighting for their life and none was laughing.

Skoob, still moaning about being taken out of the kitchen (stupid Health and Safety laws, apparently), spun two meat cleavers with lightening speed and pinpoint accuracy and before long a pile of 'fresh' meat was piling up ready for the stewpot.

Percival and Pissgums had finished slaughtering the furry fuckers and were fighting each other over who had the biggest kill.

Birbee, climbing down from the Crowsnest, started to tour the deck, sliding over the muck that was just starting to seep into the sea.

"Father, Father, haven't I sseen you somewhere before?" shouted Jean, as Birbee wandered close by.

"I very much doubt it, my son, not unless you have lived in a Monastery since the Buggerall sailed.
I have been.............finding myslef ever since the fateful day that she sank, if indeed she did sink."

Memories of the HMS Buggerall came flooding back, from the very first chapter when Cap Morse gathered the crew together in Chapter One onwards through chapter 2, and past the missing chapter 3.

His thoughts fleeting turned towards Madame Bitters, and her chapter 4, when the best laid plans didn't necessarily get you laid.
Looking around at the varying injuries on the Spoof Writers/Pirate wannabes and the various stages of death in the Gerbils, Birbee hoped that the Doc would be able to cope, and that he had found the ship's treatment room.
Remembering chapter 5 of the very first collaboration, Birbee very much doubted it, but what could you do?

It was, Birbee remembered, during chapter 6 that they had their first battle, a battle hard fought and even harder won.
But that was another animal fight, the first human to human battle came in chapter 7 when they really became pirates.

His memories became hazy after this, maybe it was the mushrooms, maybe it was just the rum drunk since, but his thoughts seemed to turn darker, so he stopped thinking.

"Father, Father, I HAVE seen you before," the Dean Martim look-a-like insisted, "You were in the place that wasn't Mogadishu, you were.............waiting."

"I'm afraid you may have been infected by the fires of Hell from the bellies of the Gerbils my Son, I have never been to Mogadishu, not knowingly anyway.
You must rest and say prayer to the Good Lord in Tavern."

It was then that the ship shuddered, shaked, rocked and maybe even rolled, and someone, somewhere, yelled 'LAND, LAND, WE'VE HIT LAND!!!!!' and a small scattering of sand blew over the deck and stuck to the congealed bile.

"Lower the gangplank," yelled Cap Morse, "We'em off on an adventure............."

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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