I hadn’t seen the pirate for two days. What would he be like now? Would he be more unwell? Would he still be able to talk to me? Would we get another chance to share a few laughs?
I knocked on the door and loudly said, “Good morning.”
I peered around the corner and he did look different.
Covering his left eye was a piece of gauze and covering the gauze was a black pirate-style eyepatch which his family had brought him. He looked to have lost weight, it had only been 48 hours since I had last seen him. What was that in his hand?
He was holding onto something with a shiny handle. It had grooves in it to make it more ergonomic and so it would fit in the hand well. The hilt piece was curved both upwards and downwards. A skull and crossbones adorned the hilt. My eyes followed the curve of the blade upwards. He beckoned me towards him with his cutlass, he wanted to fight.
He instructed me to prepare my weapon.
I motioned to one of my trusty assistants who rushed out of the room to bring me my weapon of choice.
Within seconds my bright yellow electric bug zapping tennis racquet was in my hand.
We slashed at each other, in slow motion.
I tried to hit him, he parried my blows.
He tried to hit me, and I dove out of the way.
We kept fighting, neither of us wanting to give in.
Seconds felt like minutes, the minutes felt like hours.
Finally, he feinted left and with a deft flick of his wrist, I was disarmed.
My yellow racquet clattered on the floor. Useless. I was done for.
His sword sliced upwards towards my head, and I was given my second haircut of the New Year.
Following our mighty battle he complained of a sore throat.
My differential diagnosis – sore throat caused by too much laughing.
I wanted to confirm my suspicions and examined his throat.
I asked him to open his mouth.
“Can you say, Ar, Ar, Ar please?”