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"They are nearing us, captain." reported a young man with a shaky voice. His eyes continually darted from the captain to the approaching ship, its wings creaking with every flap. "Captain!" His officer furled his eyebrows and readjusted himself in his seat. "This is serious!"
"Serious, hm?" He yawned and pulled a chicken bone from his pocket, eyed it curiously, and tossed it aside with a soft chuckle. "How serious?"
"I'd say they'll be at firing range in a few hands."
"A few hands." The captain looked over his hands, swollen with fat and glistening with the juices of his last meal. He licked a finger and shuddered. "You'll eat anything while drunk." he observed dully with a raised brow. He fished out several more bones from his pockets and threw them across the room, each nearly hitting the young man before him.
"Sir, please, they may be enemies!" pleaded the boy with folded hands. "They raise no flag and don't veer from their course. They intend to meet us!"
"Do you have food for them?" wondered the captain with a start. "It'd look bad for our country if we didn't serve them." Or bad for me. he thought with a scowl, remembering the last time he had mistreated a guest. The queen had been furious and locked him a dungeon for several days with scraps for food. When he had served his sentence, several young women flocked to him with quivering lips, commenting on how his stomach had shrunk. A new man, a better man, they had said. He could still recall the disappointed looks on their faces when he appeared the next day looking as if he were pregnant. He smiled at the thought and was quickly snapped from his reveries with a sharp cry.
"Sir, they fired at us!"
"What'd they fire?"
"A cannon!"
"Did they hit us?"
"No."
"I'd call that a victory." cheered the captain. "Tell the cooks to prepare a feast! A victory feast!" His stomach growled and he slapped it merrily. "My friend seconds it!"
"Sir, they're a threat, we must fight back!"
"Oh, fine. Tell the men to retaliate!" boomed the man with a wave of his hand. "An extra plate for every mate who hits 'em!" The young man bowed deeply and exited the cabin, shouting orders and commands in a voice the captain never expected him to possess. "Oddities, oddities." he sighed with a shrug as he slumped deep into his chair and plucked a patch of chicken skin that was draped over the armrests of his seat. He sniffed it, prodded gently with a hesitant tongue and, with a quick inspection of the room to be sure no one was there, took a bite. "Better with age, just like me." he laughed, throwing the rest into his gaping smile. "Exquisite, why don't we serve cold chicken every once in awhile?"
Joyous hoots and hollers shook his room and the young man returned with a massive smirk upon his lips. "Sir, we won, we won!" he proclaimed excitedly, and looked as if he were struggling to keep himself from hopping around.
"Excellent! I knew you were the right man for the job!" applauded the captain with a roar of laughter. "Tell the cooks to prepare a feast in your honor!"
"Mine?"
"Aye, you deserve it." The captain began to push down on the shoulders of his chair, but his greasy hands slid out and he fell back into his seat. "Well, I'll give you a pat on the back later! Now tell the cooks, go!" The young man nodded and ran off, nearly skipping. "Ah, youth. I remember my first victory." He recalled himself standing at the very edge of the ship, barely avoiding a blast of magic with a swift duck. He had destroyed the entire ship with a single strike, a well-aimed bolt of fire that set the enemy ship ablaze. He was hailed a hero and given a fat reward for his deed. And a fat belly. He rubbed his stomach and laughed.