The Dwarf Pirate – Tales of the Finger

So, you’re wondering what I did. What happened that I needed five stitches on my index finger. Well let me tell you.

It was raining. Raining a lot. Completely bizarre for Wyoming at this time of year – for any time of year, really. There was water everywhere. Great ponds where only caked dust lay for years.

I noted upon one of these unusual bodies of water (as I drove past on my way to an incredible fossil locality) what appeared to be a sailing vessel. On my return from the field that day, with an amazing booty of giant shelled squids and marine reptiles, I found my passage blocked by water on the road and a massive galleon adrift directly in front of me.

I got out of the truck to investigate the state of the road. The water was shallow. I could drive though. But how was this ship floating there?

It seemed empty. I called up. No response. It was actually not as large as I had thought, and I found that I was able to push it. I commenced to shove it off the road and out of my way so I could go home.

From my right, I heard a cry, and I caught a glimpse of the tiniest pirate I could possibly imagine swinging at me from a rope tied to the ship’s rigging. He hit me with is feet and I fell into the mud.

For a fleeting moment I regretted that I wasn’t carrying my sword. Such a weapon would make sense right now. Then, of course, who carries a sword in Wyoming? There shouldn’t be pirates here.

The dwarf pirate swung back at me screaming something about krackens. I braced myself and shoved him aside. At that moment, I noticed that he had the tiniest hook hand I’d ever seen and that now that itty-bitty hook was embedded in my finger. As he flew by, the force  pulled his hook from whatever stump was hidden in his sleeve. The hook dangled momentarily from my torn finger, then fell into the water.

The pirate moved to swing at me again. I grabbed his hook from the water and brandished it, meaning to claw him to bits should he pass again.

His eyes widened. Abruptly he clambered back onto the deck, calling out orders for some unseen host. Oars sprouted from the hull. One caught me in the back and sent me stumbling away.

I think it was at that moment I realized then how crazy the whole situation was, and raced back to the truck. I stopped and looked back, to see the ship rapidly paddling away. I watched it for a long time, until it was merely a speck on the horizon.

When it was gone, I took a moment to look at my hands. In my left hand was the tiny hook – which I still have to this day.

The tiniest hook.
The tiniest hook.

My right hand was bloodied, with a great gash to my pointer finger.

So I did the only thing I could do. I tossed the hook into the truck and forded the pond. I made it to an ER and got those five stitches. And now, I have the most amazing scar ever.

Published by paleololigo

Scientist (Paleontology, Geochemistry, Geology); Writer (Speculative and Science Fiction, plus technical and non-technical Science); Mom to great boy on the Autism spectrum; possessor of too many hobbies.

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