“Hey Sal!” calls Raleigh from the open maw at Hook’s.
Big Al takes a moment to realize Raleigh is talking to him, then turns to look back at the restaurant.
“If you want to start now, we’ve got some boxes we need to unload. Come show me some of that Zit & Grit grit!”
With a grunt, he twists and almost falls off the picnic bench. His butt is sore where he had been sitting.
“I’ll be right there,” says Big Sal. He stretches his arms and tail out, catches the water spray, and sighs.
Contented, he trundles beneath the watchful eye of the frozen pirate captain stuck to the side of the building, then to the live one that welcomes him into the open door.
“Welcome, welcome!” says Raleigh. With his hand on Big Sal’s shoulder, he leads him in the same direction he had before. “First things first, let’s get you below deck and presentable to our customers!”
Booths line the outer walls and, open on both sides, run down the middle of a wide room. Tables and chairs stand between the rows of booths. Six different themed tables are scattered throughout. One round table circles around a mast where canvas droops from the ceiling. Another square table near the back wall looks out over the back of a boat, a mural of a sea filled with mer-people.
And at the entrance stands a helm—a ship’s wheel—and a teenage pirate whose eyes are as wide as the helm he holds.
“Welcome to…uh…Hooks! Where we serve only the jolliest of rogers and the heartiest of…” His voice trails off as Raleigh waves a hand.
Petra appears from behind a swinging door, orders of fried onions, hamburgers and French fries balanced on serving trays in her hands. Dressed in a pirate costume, she looks like a stowaway. She smiles when she sees him heading Below Deck.
“It’s all taken care of then?” she says.
“Yes, indubitably so! We have our Croc! At long last, we…have…our…Croc!” he says, calling out the last word.
Two children, a boy and a girl of about eight and nine sit at a table with their parents, watching Petra bring their meals. But at Raleigh’s last shout, their attention draws to the large crocodile in a hat and dress passing through the dining area.
Two harmonious shrieks of death pierce the restaurant atmosphere, and as soon as they fade…
“Ha HA!” replies Raleigh. “Music to my ears! He’s not a real crocodile, children, but he’s real good at pretending! The best I say!”
And with that, he presses something on his wrist. A ship’s bell resonates through the restaurant.
DING! DING!
Petra winces at the sound, rolls her eyes and then, turning towards them, smiles at her customers. Two befuddled parents share glances as their kids look too scared to move.
“Ahoy to our captive audience!” says Petra, greeting them. “Hook burger and onion rings with murder sauce?”
A timid hand lifts as the boy looks at the plate set quickly before him.
“Did anyone die in making the murder sauce?” he asks quietly.
“No one was hurt in the making of the sauce,” Petra holds a hand against her mouth as if sharing a secret. “It’s really just ketchup with more zip than catch.”
Everyone at the booth then takes a breath as she matches plates with people.
Raleigh leads Big Sal through the restaurant. They pass under a television with moving pictures and a voice that says something about warming northern temperatures.
“Oh I’ve been waiting so long to ding the dong!” says Raleigh as they climb the dim stairs toward the rooms. “Here, my friend, are your keys,” he says, tossing them toward Big Sal with a wrist-snap flourish. “If you can present yourself as this…” He points at a spotlit, framed, hand-drawn picture hanging on the hallway wall of a crocodile with an extra-large set of mean-looking eyebrows, a large prosthetic tooth on one side and definitely no dress or hat.
“…We will be ship-shape! Oh and don’t forget your wristband. It’s your proximity device and will trigger different scenes at different times. Be ready for them I say! You’ve got five minutes and we will need you downstairs unloading the refrigerator truck out back.”
With that, Raleigh turns and heads back down the hallway, head held high as if he were a lion tamer who had just put his head inside the jaws and lived to tell the tale.
Hmm. So blending here means taking my human clothes off and looking like myself…I could get used to this.
Carefully, and with great concentration, he opens the door to his room with a key that slides in and out of the lock. He had seen Raleigh do this earlier. He feels it click and then turns it.
The room feels cozier, and as he steps into it, he feels his shoulders relax, his belly loosen and his jaw hang open.
“Oh ho,” he says. “Why does this feel so good?”
A new scent begins to arise from his skin, this one almost of bison stew, but has a strange, peachy undertone to it.
Peachy bison stew? How strange do these scents get?
And then he smells something behind a door, something very human, very stinky, and his curiosity leads him to open it.
His jaw drops and he feels a flip-flop in his stomach.
“What is that?” he whispers, not sure whether he’s afraid, bewildered or something else.
Hanging in the closet appears to be the skin of a crocodile, only it never was a crocodile, his nose tells him that. The smell of sweat from many different humans oozes from it, as if it had been soaked time and time again. It’s puffed out to give shape, but seems old, dead, and very worn out.
As he touches it, the scales shimmer and shift. A few patches have been sewn on in different spots and camouflaged to blend in.
Humans wore this to look like a crocodile. But I’m me, and they think I’m one of them, wearing something like that.
Am I one of them?
Confusion filling him, he takes off his hat and tosses it onto a chair, which is where the dress goes as well, but then he sees his reflection in the window over the tub.
And I’m Big Sal now? What did this journey do to me?
He looks the same, but he feels different.
Then his focus changes as he sees the view of the river beyond the windowpane, green forest lining the opposite side. It is by accident that his tail brushes a knob and water splashes onto his feet.
Again, peachy bison stew arises, and for the first time in a very long time, he gets down on all fours as the tub fills around him. He flips onto his back, his tail hanging out of the tub, and sighs.
“Ahhh. This is what I’ve been waiting for,” he mumbles.
A table near him starts buzzing like a cricket, and the sound starts to lull him to sleep.
However, within moments there is a knock at the door.
“Hello Sal?” calls Petra. “Are you ready?”
He gurgles bubbles from the tub.
“Sal?”
Vibration comes from the table again, this time more like a motel sign flashing on and off.
She knocks, tries the knob, and when he doesn’t answer, keeps knocking, slowly opens the door, calling his name. She sees him lazing in the tub, his eyes slowly closing.
“Sal, uh, it’s your first day on the job. You can’t be falling asleep before you’ve even started,” she says. She picks up the vibrating proximity band from the table and tosses it onto his belly, where the tickle startles him awake and into consciousness.
“Oh. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “The water was just so comfy.”
Petra rolls her eyes and throws a towel toward him.
“Get yourself dry. You’re going into the refrigerator today. And don’t forget your eyebrows or tooth. Raleigh wants a livestream.”
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Chapter 15 podcast drops February 7
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