USA
Copyright© 2016 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 8
Wendy and I sojourned ... it was wonderful ... and none of your business ... I will say this: the much vaunted rumor that women who survive a possible murder are highly motivated to procreate?
Yeah. It's not a rumor.
Maybe that ought to be in caps.
We picked up a breeze while we were catching our breath. Dizzying work ... is pleasure.
Yeah!
We cuddled in our after play ... which almost any girl will tell you is at least as good as foreplay ... and she told me what the sailors had planned.
I wonder if I can talk the Powers that Be into bring them back so I can kill them ... my turn, Wendy. You had yours.
Way too soon it was decided we needed to get out of bed and dress, the sun was shining ... what will the children think?
Showers first. This is the late Twenties and "Things" weren't out of hand yet. Our waste water and sewage pumped directly over the side. We did our necessaries and went out to the cockpit.
"Mom! Eww!"
"Eww?"
"Yeah ... your hair is wet ... we know what you've been doing. Eww! Eww! Eww!"
I said, "Yup ... we've been working on replacements."
"Umh ... replacements?"
"Maybe we can get good ones this time."
"Mom!"
"David, don't tease ... just pitch 'em overboard."
"Dad!"
"We have a mess in the salon," I suggested we clean it up.
"Good idea," Wendy said. "Customs and port authorities might have a problem with bloodstains and bullet holes."
Back in the salon, we found the Powers that Be working on repairing the damage.
Don't ask.
It's magic.
Well ... it involved wands that glowed, tape that melted and a pourable liquid that eliminated all traces of blood.
Magic.
Twenty-one thousandth century magic. Remember? Any sufficiently advanced... ? Yeah. That one. It wasn't technology but it sure worked.
There was still mopping. We lesser beings got stuck with that. They did teach us a nifty though. Clove hitches run up a mop handle will let one hang a mop over the side and rinse out the guck. Works well with grimy children too.
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