Yet Another Birthday With Cap’n Blood

Yet Another Birthday With Cap’n Blood

A rugged tale of yet another surprise yet memorable birthday with Cap’n Bloood in Davy Jones Locker. He comes bearing rum.

Wednesday 13^th of July, 2022, in a cold secluded place sailors dread…

I am deep in thought and all my sensory capabilities are dormant. Never lost in thought; I often find my complete self in thought. If someone can sail the rough seas from brook to ocean without finding themselves complete in thought and the action it begets, then he is a lubber. Nothing more. My thoughts always gear towards the fostering of the better society but it is a lonely vocation despite the thousands who swear to seek it. Davy Jones Locker (DJL) is the best place ever to find oneself in thought and there I sat without being wopicious.

My sensory faculties reactivate by the touch of a hand. It is a surprise, a moderate grip of my shoulder. In a couple of seconds, I return myself to the corporeal present moment, then turn my head to see who it is surprising me. It is Cap’n Blood (CB) himself. I fall into a daze with amazement for a moment. Then remembered it is his birthday, thirteen days before mine.

I stand up to greet him but regard him first. He had not aged since I saw him last and his hair and beard remains the same. His blue reg stands out well against his all-white kaftan. Furthermore, what strikes me most was his child-sparkly eyes.

“An Eternal Happy Birthday Ahoy to You, O Cap’n Blood of The Tortuga Iwikpori! I await your 100^th Birthday!”

“Yohana,” CB reply stretching his hand to shake my hand.

“Yohana?” I ask.

“You never run out of tricks to discombobulate the status quo. Yes, Yohana,” CB says.

“Well…”

“Ha! After creating egbe, you always play the little boy lost game. I know your antics well.”

“O CB, you came here to DJL without permission,”

“Mascot Wrong, are you asking me to leave?”

I keep silent but my eyes speak.

“I came here to close down Davy Jones Locker.”

“No. no, no, no, no, no. You cannot do that.”

“Die It!” CB yells.

“I embraced the Ultra Violet Spot and banishment to DJL with love and obedience. I’m not taking any Microwave Spot. Where dey for dey see like that? I am in a Spots-Free Zone.”

“My decision is immutable. I created this place and now I have decided to close it down for good.”

“If you do that, I will invoke the Tedder Curse.”

CB dropped the small satchel bag he was carrying. What he heard stunned him.

“How did you learn about the Tedder Curse?”

I keep silent.

“It’s true you have got lots of information. Only members of the Original Seven or Original Fifteen know about the Tedder Curse. Woe unto those who hate our guts.”

Reluctance to speak further was mutual between us. Notwithstanding, with my hand I offer him a grand wooden chair to sit on. Before he sat down, he picked up his satchel bag. In his seated comfort he brought out a bottle of Kraken Black Spiced Rum and two accompanying gift glasses. He held them in his hands stretched towards me. It was an instruction to open the bottle and pour drinks. I did CB’s bidding. He held his glass in his left hand and I did the same.

“You do the honours.” CB says.

We both raise our glasses.

“To more greatness and the next 12 years.”

It is very cold in the DJL Rendezvous and a tipple of rum could do magic.

“Sometimes I think you hate me as CB.”

“I never have. It is just NAS things.”

“I know what you mean.”

“What makes you happy the most?” CB ask.

“Mufugbeneity.”

“That’s a cerebrally steep one. Do you have any personal problems?”

“My health challenges and lack of sexual activity.”

“Lack of sexual activity. I now know your source of valorous vim for errant things.”

We both laugh.

“How is your health?” CB asks.

“It is there. I am still kicking.”

“Stay strong.”

CB raises his glass for me to pour him some more. In one swig he empties the liquid contents of his glass then rests backwards into the chair. He sit sdeeply relaxed for about an hour, his eyes avoiding mine but never closing. The grandeur of uniqueness engulfs him with glee, nine decades worth. Moreover, here CB is visiting a denkuous mutineer, No friend No foe.

“The Man Wrong, are you alright?” CB asked, breaking the long-stretched silence.

“Yes, O CB. Did you really come to close DJL?”

“I came to pull your legs but you got the better of me.”

“How is that?”

“No one has mentioned the Tedder Curse to my hearing in forty years. It is very surprising you know about it. I thought it would become a lost secret.”

I kept silent.

“My birthday celebrations here are merry affairs, aren’t they?”

“Alalapilila!”

“Alalapilila!”

CB raised his glass and I poured him his third drink.

“One for the sea route,” he says.

When he finishes downing the rum, he is ready to leave.

“Yohana!”

“Yohana!”

I got a warm hug and triple pat on the back. I watch to see if he would stagger on his way out, but his gait was perfect despite the rough floors of DJL. On my side side, I am wrapped in lapotidunious warmth.

Nevertheless, whether my mention of the Tedder Curse saved my day and abode, I know not. But it was yet an added memory to a rich chest of fine birthdays.

Be good, not Lucky

Please, take a look at me collection of stories, Davy Jones Scrolls and In Search of the Mufugbens. Cheers.