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The Skeleton King looked down at the manatees. "Radamant," he asked calmly, "Are these mammals?" Radamant nodded slowly. The Skeleton King unsheathed his cutlass. Radamant put his hands over his eyes.
"Oh what a tale we weave," Radamant said leaning back on the two legs of a wooden chair after the Skeleton King's soliloquy. The Skeleton King scowled at Radamant and swung his cutlass at one of the legs, sending Radamant sprawling.
The Skeleton King lay his head on a sack of grain. It's gonna be a long road from here on out. The man on the edge of the rail car began singing Jimmy Crack Corn. The Skeleton King sprang up and lopped the man's head off with his cutlass. It's gotta be a quite railroad.
The Skeleton King regailed the group at the campfire about his conquests on the high seas. Radamant had too much to drink. "You're a liar!" he yelled. He fell in the fire. The all put him out but the Skeleton King wouldn't forget.
Everything he ate went straight through him. He had a pretty high metabolism. Or maybe it was the bones and lack of skin and organs. The Skeleton King cackled as he dropped another chicken wing down his trachea.
It's wrecked, Radamant said, clearly upset.
It's wrecked? I'm wrecked! Hah!" The Skeleton King swayed left and right.
"We're taking on water fast!" Radamant pleaded.
The Skeleton King threw the bottle of rum into the assaulting rock. He hiccuped and fell overboard.
The jeep burned rubber down the dirt road. They were swerving and sliding passed cacti and tumbleweeds. The smell of tires and dirt filled the air. And for the first time in a long time, The Skeleton King smiled a broad uncontrollable smile.
The Skeleton King began selling coconuts to tourists. They would buy them at 1 gold coin each. "This is capitalism at it's best, Radamant!" The Skeleton King cackled into the air. Radamant bit into one of the coins. "Plastic?" he whispered.
His bones were not sensitive enough to feel the fire start in the cave. The brush and bramble began to catch fire. Luckily his eye sockets were very sensitive to light. The Skeleton King popped up from his temporary bed drew his cutlass.
"Can you turn those down?" Radamant asked, annoyed. The Skeleton King just bobbed his head up and down while pecking out his latest blog on his laptop, his bony fingers also loud with every key-press. The sound amplified, echoing throughout his skull from his headphones, when the Skeleton King opened his mouth to lip sing the power anthem. Radamant was glaring at him.
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writing since 2013 · 141 entries · 136 days shown up
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