Hamish X and the Cheese Pirates by Sean Cullen

only to run into another gang of cutthroats blocking her escape. She turned to run back the way she came but her pursuers scrambled around the bend, blocking her way. Cornered, she brandished her paddle.
    â€œStand back!” she shouted, not feeling as brave as she sounded. “I’m not afraid to use this!”
    One-Ear grinned and held up his sabre. “I’m not afraid to use this, either.” He spun the sword in a rather show-offy display, accidentally slicing off one of his comrades’ pinky fingers.
    â€œOw.”
    â€œSorry. Give me a bit of space when I’m showing off.”
    â€œMy mistake.”

    One-Ear smiled at Mrs. Francis, baring yellowed teeth. “Time for some fun, sweetheart.” He was about to lunge when a sharp voice stopped him.
    â€œHold!”
    Mrs. Francis turned to see a tall, slim man step through the ranks. He wore a sailing captain’s hat at a rakish angle and a tattered peacoat. In his hand was a pistol aimed at One-Ear. His clothes were old but well kempt. He had a gentlemanly bearing, as if he were used to a better sort of company. “We have rules, One-Ear.” The man smiled faintly at Mrs. Francis. “Ladies are not to be hacked apart with swords. It reflects badly on pirates in general and on our outfit in particular.”
    â€œC’mon Mr. Kipling! She brained Hookie with that paddle,” One-Ear said petulantly.
    â€œI’m sure she was provoked,” the man called Mr. Kipling said. He turned to Mrs. Francis. “Madam, I beg you, please relinquish your paddle and you will be treated with the respect and decorum befitting such a lovely lady.” He bowed, sweeping off his hat to reveal a shiny bald spot on the back of his head.
    The gesture left him open to a paddle attack to the skull. Mrs. Francis felt tempted to whack him, but looking around at the assembled pirates she knew it was a foolhardy gesture. She dropped the paddle.
    Immediately, One-Ear lunged at her. He made only two steps before a shot rang out. “OW!” he shouted, grabbing the side of his head where his single ear had been before Mr. Kipling’s bullet had removed it. “That’s not fair! I have to change my name to No-Ears now.”
    â€œForgive me.” The gentleman pirate shook his head sadly. “At least your hats will fit snugly.” He turned to Mrs. Francis. “Now, my lady, allow me to introduce myself. Iam Mr. Kipling, first mate and second in command of the airship Vulture . We are unfortunately here to plunder and pillage this facility. If you’ll allow me to escort you, I will introduce you to the Captain. I’m sure he’d love to make your acquaintance.”
    He offered her an arm. At a loss for some other course of action, she took it and they made their way, escorted by the gang of pirates, into the cafeteria.
    On their arrival, they found Viggo in dire straits. A huge, brawny pirate held the skinny cheese maker by the throat like a butcher holding a chicken. Viggo’s feet dangled above the floor as he kicked and writhed, trying to escape the vicelike grip that held him. Raucous laughter abounded.
    â€œLook at him kickin’!” a pirate crowed.
    â€œLike that Irish show with all the dancin’. What was it called?”
    â€œRiverdance?” one of the men suggested.
    â€œThat’s the one. Magnificent show! Bubbling with irrepressible energy,” pronounced the man holding Viggo. He was missing an eye and several teeth.
    â€œA celebration of the human spirit,” enthused a short man whose arm had been sloppily amputated below the elbow and replaced with a spiked club. “The audience left the theatre completely energized.”
    Viggo listened to the commentary in disbelief, shaking with terror. “Please! I beg you. Don’t kill me!” he sobbed. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
    More uproarious laughter. The men elbowed each other in the