Hamish X Goes to Providence Rhode Island by Sean Cullen Page B

His buttocks struck the floor with a ringing clang and his sausage spun from his hand, splatting against the wall and slowly sliding down to the floor with a wet plop.
    Hamish X gathered himself up from the floor where he had landed in a crouch and unfolded himself to his full height. He walked slowly over to the prone Captain, who scrambled backwards until his back was against the wall. Ironbuttocks’s eyes were wide with fear, the white visible all around the irises.
    â€œDon’t kill me, you crazy boot-boy! Don’t kill me!”
    Hamish X chuckled softly. “Kill you? No, I won’t kill you.” He raised one boot and pressed it into Ironbuttocks’s chest, pinning him to the wall. “You don’t deserve to live,you miserable, metal-bottomed parasite, but I won’t kill you. I …”
    Static hissed loudly from the radio. Hamish X jerked his head and saw that the transmitter was working. He reached for the switch to kill the machine when a flat female voice came through the tinny speakers. “ Christmas Is Cancelled, this is ODA cargo helicopter 7A. I am reading you, Captain. However, I am not certain I heard you correctly. You need assistance? What are your coordinates? Please transmit them and we shall rendezvous with you immediately. Respond, over!”
    The static returned. Hamish X pressed his boot harder on the Captain’s chest.
    â€œYou called for help?” Hamish X hissed. “You little worm!”
    â€œHey! Who you calling worm? I am no invertebrate. 51 I have a bony, bony spinal column.”
    â€œI was speaking metaphorically, you crusty, rusty, greasy, slave-running, cowardly scum!” Hamish X growled then stopped, puzzled. “How do you even know what an invertebrate is, anyway?”
    â€œI was going to be a marine biologist but—”
    â€œBut what?”
    â€œBut … my little bum, she make me sink!”
    Hamish X snarled and ground his boot harder into the Captain’s chest.
    â€œWe have no lifeboats because your idea of shipboard safety is exactly like your personal hygiene: nonexistent!”
    The Captain frowned, wounded by the remark. “Hey. I comb my hair!”

    â€œ Christmas Is Cancelled … Do you read me? Over.” The voice of the Grey Agent named Miss Cake filled the ruined bridge. “Do you require assistance? Over . ”
    The Captain wheezed as the pressure on his chest restricted his breathing further. “I have to answer them … They’ll be suspicious …”
    â€œSuspicious …,” Hamish X said thoughtfully, then he grinned his wolfish grin. “Yes … Yes! You have to talk to them. And you will say exactly what I tell you or I’ll kick your buttocks till they’re as flat as a pancake and throw you over the side.”
    â€œOkay,” the Captain agreed fearfully.
    â€œSo …,” Hamish X smiled. “Here is what you say …”

Chapter 11
    Miss Cake eased back on the throttle of the heavy cargo helicopter and peered through the clear plastic windscreen of the cockpit. The Christmas Is Cancelled floated below, precariously close to a spine of jagged rocks. The only thing restraining the ship from drifting to its destruction was a taut cable running from the bow down into the water, presumably to an anchor lodged in the seabed. No one was visible on deck. The ship appeared to be deserted.
    Miss Cake frowned and pressed a finger to the side of her skull just below the brim of her fedora. A cable ran from the base of her skull into the control console in front of her, connecting her to the communications net and her partner riding in the hold aft. “No movement at all, Mr. Cookie. Where is Captain Ironbuttocks? The coordinates are correct, but he and his crew are nowhere in sight.”
    â€œStrange.” Mr. Cookie’s voice crackled inside Miss Cake’s head. “Perhaps they were forced to abandon