Ron the Stowaway

This was a tough day for me in the pest extermination business, so I crawled home, put on my earphones, cranked the tunes to 11, and wrote this story for you. . . .

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Ron the Stowaway

You know what? Ron knew he’d messed up. Everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those days. But Ron also knew he’d messed up bad. Like, he had messed up worse than he had thought he had, at first.

He was a castaway. He had hidden inside a crate being loaded on board the largest ship of the armada. He just wanted to get out of this new world and back to America. And of course the one time he had stepped out of line, he ended up accidentally boarding a pirate ship.

How does one even do that?

He had crept out of his house in the dead of night, and snuck onto the largest vessel he could find, thinking that naturally, being the largest ship, it’d belong to the East India Trading Company.

But, of course, with his luck, he’d crept sneakily and silently into his grave, or so it seemed. He was now nestled between two crates of god knows what.

Ron guessed, in hindsight, that the ship had been there in the middle of the night to avoid detection, which was a good move on their part, as it was very confusing as to what kind of ship it was.

So there he sat, in the brig, listening to the pirates slosh around in the ankle deep water, cursing and hollering, moving boxes and getting into fights.

If he was going to be honest, he was terrified. He’d never met a pirate, and the ship had left port long ago. So he was going to stay a secret stowaway until they got to wherever pirates go.

He hadn’t thought of that. The ship he had thought he got on and tried to get on would have taken him straight to England. But he had no idea where these pirates where going. He also had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

The water weaved around his feet, and the crates pressed against him on either side. He was extremely uncomfortable. Despite the situation he had gotten himself into, he wondered why he hadn’t brought himself a chair. I mean he had dug himself so far into this hole of a mess, he could’ve at least spared his own butt and brought a long a nice three leg stool. One like his father made.

Oh, if his father could see him now. Ron didn’t think his dad would be surprised. His dad was always telling Ron that he couldn’t do anything right, that he was a mess up, that he had no idea what he was doing.

Ron thought about that. He thought about all the things his dad had said to him over the years. All the pain he had caused. Ron wasn’t a mess up. Ron was strong and courageous and he could do whatever he set his mind to. He could do anything he wanted. He knew his dad was wrong.

Ron shoved the boxes aside. He ran up the stairs, threw open the hatch, and ran screaming in anger onto the deck. He didn’t care what his dad said. Ron was tough as nails.

The pirates shot him in the face.

The End

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