Sweet-Toothed Savages Episode 2

Written by: Paul Holmes

Episode 2

Steve, “Fudgey Steve” to his minions on the message board, sat by himself at a table outside one of the dockside establishments of Port Linhud. A mostly finished dish of spicy frog’s legs had been pushed away, and he was sipping on the dark rum made locally from the sugarcane grown deep in the interior of the jungle land known as Serpentis.

 

The Carn-EVIL had made a straight line from Red Crest to Port Linhud, crossing the Void Sea in a matter of a a half dozen days. The food he found in a makeshift cooler nestled in the back of the magical ketch Squiffy Planks had given him had kept him alive, but he was so over fast-food burgers and mall Chinese food. The frog’s legs had been a nice change.

 

Steve’s ship and the clipper owned by the Sweet-Tooth Savages had docked maybe two hours previous, and Steve had chosen this spot mostly for the view it afforded him of the large open area just behind the warehouses and bars where the Savages and their roustabouts were busily setting up their venue for the night’s entertainment. 

 

In the center of it all, the Ringleader of the show, and Captain of the Carn-EVIL, Rumguts Radke stalked like angered moose barking orders and using his cleaver to point. The Captain was coated with buttered rum from which he took his name, and the cleaver flung the ash of pumpkin s’mores whenever he gestured. 

 

Steve had filed the first half hour of the set-up, but realized he was burning tape before he turned the camera off. However, he reached for it once more when a figure dressed in a military uniform came storming down the cobblestone street to confront Rumguts.

 

As the officer came close, Rumguts opened his arms wide in a welcoming gesture and gave a huge grin from behind his rum-soaked beard. Steve couldn’t make out what was said, but the officer was quite angry. Gesturing at the tents and booths being erected in the middle of Linhud.

 

Steve hit record and zoomed in just in time to see the Rumguts widen his smile to horrific proportions. The corners of his mouth rising higher and higher, further than any normal person’s mouth should stretch. The darkened teeth in the pirate captain’s mouth seemed to have been filed to points. Rumguts said something to the angry officer and threw an arm around the man’s shoulders. Steve could see the man’s uniform darken as the buttered rum soaked into it.

 

Rumguts Radke steered the officer away from the cacophony of the growing carnival. Radke gestured with his cleaver to a skeleton in ragged clothing that was finishing setting up the pipe organ. With a clack of its teeth, the skeleton sat down and began to play.

 

The noise that shrieked forth could only be called “music” by the most generous, or deaf, of listeners. The sound was akin to someone taking a weedwhacker to a herd of cats while attempting to play the accordion one-handed. Steve could feel a headache coming on.

 

Bringing the camera back the pirate and the local officer, it almost seemed as if Rumguts stared straight at his soul through the camera lens, and winked. Rumguts winked at Steve and nodded his head slightly as if to say, “Come follow.”

 

Steve suddenly realized he had no money on him. Certainly none of the local currency. Rummaging in his satchel, he brought out his Tamagotchi and heaved a sigh. He’d had this one for a long time, but he would feel even worse leaving nothing. He tossed the little electronic pet onto the table and took a last swig of the rum before taking off to follow the two men.

 

He was afraid at first, he had lost them, but then he noticed a faint trail of rum droplets leading into an alley a little way down from where he had been sitting. He felt a shiver go down his spine. The Sweet-Tooth Savages were vicious killers in addition to being amazing performers, but Steve was their biggest fan, and Captain Rumguts Radke h8imself had invited him to come along. He would never be able to read the Comic Sans font of the message board again without shame if he let this opportunity slip past him.

 

Steve heard talking as he approached the back corner of the building and stopped to steel his nerves. Checking that the light was on and the lens cap was off, Steve took a step around the corner.

 

Rumguts caught the movement and looked away from the officer. “It’s about damn time ye got here! I was getting bored with this little chicken here.”

 

A cold chill ran through Steve but he kept filing.

 

Rumguts’ smile turned wicked and he waggled his tongue at the officer and as fast as a the serpents this land was known for, Rumguts reached out and gripped the other man’s throat , lifting him off of the ground and slamming him back into the bamboo and iron wall that separated Port Linhud from the horrors that lie in the jungle beyond. With no effort whatsoever, Rumguts lifted the officer off of his feet a good six inches above the ground.

 

“Now, ye listen here, ye sorry excuse for a boot-licking peacock. The Sweet-Tooth Savages are gonna perform in yer fair city this eve, and ye’ll not say a word about it.”

 

The officer began to stammer a response, but Rumguts shushed him by placing the cleaver against the man’s lips, covering them in ash. “That weren’t a discussion. I simply be stating a fact for ye.”

 

Without warning, Rumguts released his hold on the officer’s neck and lighting-quick, he jabbed two fingers, dripping with rum into the man’s mouth. Steve watched as the officer’s gaze became hazy and his eyelids became hooded. Whatever the source of that buttered rum was, Steve was certain it was of a higher proof than he had ever run across.

 

Removing the fingers, Rumguts reached down and seized a limp hand, gripping the forefinger tightly and giving it a sharp twist. The sound of bones and ligaments popping echoed like a firecracker throughout the alley. With a yank, the pirate removed the fingers from the bleeding hand and plopped them into his mouth. Licking his fingers in ecstasy.

 

Rumguts methodically twisted and pulled pieces from the officer as the man swayed back and forth and could do little more than whimper at each desecration. 

 

The frog meat in Steve’s stomach threatened to crawl back up Steve’s throat, but he gave a hard swallow and kept filming. Rumguts made each swipe of his cleaver with precision, the wet sound of lacerated flesh accompanying each morsel Rumguts carved for his meal.

 

The squelching sound of a wet corpse hitting the ground woke Steve from his reverie. He glanced up from the camera to meet the gaze of Captain Rumguts Radke. Blood and chunks of viscera dripped from the captain’s mouth and down his jacket. He pounded his chest with a fisted hand twice before erupting with a massive soggy belch of satisfaction.

 

“Savage Cutts” the pirate said.

 

Steve shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs. “Huh?” he said with as much eloquence as he could muster.

 

“That recording ye have there. I guess ye plan on making more of them?” Rumguts asked.

 

Steve paused. The horrifying reality of his situation starting to come into focus. “Uh, yeah. Cutts. Two ‘T’s, right?” he stammered. “That…uh…that sounds great. I can use that.”

 

Captain Rumguts Radker dug into his blood and rum saturated jacket and pulled out a shiny golden piece of paper. “This here will get ye in anywhere we perform, and it’ll keep the crew from turning you into a stew.”

 

Steve reached out and took the golden ticket as Rumguts passed by, heading back to the tents and booths. He had an evening of entertainment to host afterall.