Copyright J.B. Norman
Lately, the pirates of Porthaven have been rallying around Earl, a well-liked pirate and aspiring amateur jam-maker, who has been afflicted by a tragic jam-making accident. In addition to his house being flattened by a wave of orange marmalade, Earl himself has tragically lost his right ear in the accident. Luckily, thanks to a well-crafted prosthetic, everyone can hardly tell the different.
Or so the wooden ear salesman assured him…
The silver lining is that there were no other casualties in the jam accident. The rest of Earl’s family was fortuitously out of town on vacation in Goldharbour.
The other silver lining is that downtown Porthaven has smelled absolutely delicious for the last few days.
“How are you holding up, Earl?” Dorian asks, putting a comforting hand on his fellow pirate’s shoulder.
“Oh, Admiral Darkstone!” Earl wails, wrapped up tightly in a blanket. “It’s horrible! I can’t get the marmalade smell out of my hair! I see oranges laughing at me whenever I close my eyes! And do you have any idea how much this is going to set back my application with the Jam-Makers Guild of Realmgard?”
“No…” Dorian mutters.
He clears his throat.
“Well, we brought you a quiche,” Dorian answers.
“It was my idea!” Dunstana says happily, bringing forward the quiche. “I mostly just wanted to use the word quiche. Isn’t it a great word?”
“That’s so thoughtful! I love quiche!” Earl says, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief as the emotions overwhelm him.
“I love to say quiche!” Dunstana interjects.
“Isn’t that what pirates do when one of their own is in need?” Dorian asks.
“Bring them a quiche?” Kat mutters.
“Support them,” Dorian notes.
“With quiche?”
“It was a rhetorical question,” Dorian mutters.
He turns back to Earl.
“Now, you let us know if you need anything else, Earl,” he says.
“Lookin’ good, Earl,” Dunstana says, peering up at his shiny new wooden ear as she sets the quiche down on the table. “Is that mahogany?”
“It’s teak,” Earl answers.
“Yeah, no,” Dunstana continues. “It looks great. I can hardly tell that… it’s a replacement ear… that’s made of wood and… strapped right to your… head.”
She coughs into her elbow.
“Oh,” Dunstana continues continuing, her eyes shifting side to side. “That’s a good one. Like, real expensive, right? I bet you could, like, polish that sucker up so much!”
Kat slaps her hand over her face in second-hand embarrassment.
“Actually, Admiral,” Earl ventures. “Since you offered, and since Dunstana’s got met thinking about it. Would you, um, happen to know where to get some decent wood polish?”
Kat blinks in surprise.
“Seriously?” she mutters.
“You just leave it to me, Earl,” Dorian says. “I’ll search high and low until I’ve got you the finest wood polish there is and that new ear of yours is going to shine brighter than the Porthaven lighthouse.
“You’re my best friend in the whole world, Admiral!” Earl wails.
Kat slaps her hand over her face in second-hand embarrassment.
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