Bamboo Beard Pt. 1

Unpublished Bizarro Novella Excerpt

Art by Gabe Leonard

(This is part of an old novella called Bamboo Beard I wrote back in 2016. This was back in my bizarro days and I planned to send it to Bix Skahill for his publishing imprint since he wanted a book from me. I never finished the book and lost my passion for writing it. Still, I think some of you might enjoy it. It’s lighter-fare and pretty funny by my own standards. Let me know if you want me to finish this thing. Enjoy.)

1. The Kidnapping

         Alphonse Harris woke up outside his house with an empty beer clutched in his right hand and a helluva migraine. His whole body ached and his mouth felt like a desert.

Dry and wanting.

         Something sharp pinched his arm. Fiery pain shot up and down the left side of his body. He rolled over, clutching his side, and groaned.

A hearty man stood over him, silhouetted underneath the sun. He smelled like a combination of bananas and seaweed.

         “Can I help you, nigga?” I asked, wishing the sunlight would calm down.

         “I’m not the one in need of help. Matter of fact, I dragged your drunk ass out of the street. You almost got ran over.”

         Alphonse looked up, wishing for the warm sheets of his bed instead of the stranger coming into sharp focus. He spotted a solid frame hidden underneath a flashy red coat with gold lapels catching a glint from the sun, a fancy white scarf with Rorschach ink blots wrapped around his neck, a well-groomed black beard, a tan Timberland boot, and a wooden peg in place of the other foot. It looked like it was carved from high-quality bamboo.

         “What do you have to say for yourself,” the stranger tilted his big red hat to the side, long black curls spilled out and he grinned, revealing his pearly white teeth, two of them gold, shimmering in the sunlight.

         “Is there a festival going on?” Alphonse looked down the street expecting to see other crazies dressed up. “Oh there must be a convention in town. You’re cosplaying as a pirate. Pretty nice get-up. Almost had me fooled.”

         “Cosplay?” Red rage filled the pirate's brown eyes and he clenched his hairy fists. “Why I'm the greatest pirate this side of the Midwest has seen in decades.”

         “I-I'm sorry. I didn't know. Pirates aren't really a thing I run into too often.”

         “Oh you'll be sorry the day you crossed paths with Bamboo Beard,” he growled.

Alphonse sighed, secretly hoping the first pirate he met would have a better name than that. His beard wasn't even that dark to begin with.

         Bamboo Beard grabbed Alphonse by the collar and dragged him across the comfort of the grass into the agonizing gravel in the street. Bits of glass and gravel cut into his arms and back. He managed to spot his wife's oval face in the window and her defined pout. She mouthed some words. Alphonse figured they had to be something along the lines of “I love you.”

         Alphonse didn't know why she didn't come running outside to save him with the sawed-off shottie they kept upstairs. Maybe she was being held hostage or maybe she was scared shitless. Either way, he desperately wished he could get up and kill her captors who were probably a bunch of wannabe pirates, but his body felt weak and helpless.

         He prayed this wouldn't be the end. This would be a terrible way to go out.

         2. Homesick

         Alphonse woke up inside a dark room with little to no light. He wiped the drool from his mouth and his head throbbed something wicked. This hangover was going to be a long one. He could feel it in his bones. And then there was that...smell.

         It smelled like a combination of the sea, saltwater, and birdshit, but it was off. There was something else mixed in...was that oil?

         Alphonse dry heaved, wanting to puke, but nothing came up. Stomach cramping.

          Small tremors ran underneath his feet. Was that an earthquake or something else?  The tremors transitioned into waves that reverberated throughout his athletic frame.

         He forced himself to his feet and look outside the circular window with a tarnished gold rim. It wasn't a window, it was a porthole. Blurs of identically boxed-shaped houses with wooden picket fences and well-groomed lawns zoomed past. The ship ripped through thick waves of asphalt that splashed against the ship violently. Cradling his stomach, Alphonse wondered if his wife had forgotten about him.

         Maybe I should write her a message in a bottle.

         He missed her terribly.

         Something growled in the darkness, snarling and snapping like a hungry, deranged dog. He peered into the darkness letting his eyes adjust and noticed steel cages surrounding him. They all seemed to contain one beast or another. He felt a bit of pity for these creatures, wondering how they ended up here. Perhaps they were kidnapped like him.

         Suddenly, the sound of heavy chains jangling from above set all of the beasts on edge. They howled and whined at the loud noise. A trapdoor whined open somewhere above and sunlight spilled down, revealing some of the creatures' misshapen faces. Surprisingly, they resembled humans, but their figures were either deformed or too skinny, borderline anorexic. Grotesque hands gripped solid steel bars, trying their damnedest to escape their prisons.

         Two pirates carefully made their way down the old wooden stairs. Both of them wore greasy yet colorful bandanas on their heads. One roughly grabbed Alphonse by his neck, forcing him to his feet and pointed upstairs with a grunt. The other one fucked with the creatures, poking their soft flesh with a sharp stick and when agitated, he laughed at their pain.

         Pity for the prisoners welled up inside Alphonse's chest as he ascended the steps and took in a breath of fresh suburban air. Bamboo Beard had his broad back turned to Alphonse as he stared out at the asphalt sea.

         “W-what's going on?” Alphonse asked. “And when are you bringing me back home? I know my wife’s worried sick.”

         Bamboo Beard turned around and chuckled. “Sailing the bright black yonder. That's what's going on.”

         “What are those creatures you're keeping captive...and do you have some Excedrin because my head is fucking killing me?”

         “Those creatures are actually humans. Fashion designers, tailors, fashionistas...the list goes on and on...and no I don't have any Excedrin. In fact, the sea is the best medicine for you. Fresh air and open seas.”

         Alphonse rubbed his head in annoyance. “They don't look so...human.”

         “I assure you, my friend. They are as human as you and me. Sometimes the sea changes you. And sometimes darkness and a little grog cause the human genetic makeup to change in subtle ways.”

         “Why do you need prisoners anyway?”

         “We're pirates. We steal and we sail. We get drunk and sometimes we take hostages who sometimes become prisoners. It's in our blood.”

         “Maybe I don't want to be a pirate. I just want to get back home to my wife.”

         Someone violently shoved Alphonse from behind. He stumbled forward and fell flat on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

         The two pirates from earlier came around and laughed at his pain. Alphonse looked up and found himself staring at the bottom of Bamboo Beard's bamboo leg. To his surprise, he was impressed by the craftsmanship and attention to detail—it resembled a human leg in every way, muscles, tendons and all, and the fact that a pirate could afford such a pricey body modification was astonishing.

         “Ahhhhh yes, I see you admiring my bamboo leg. That's where I get my namesake from. Bamboo Beard.  Arghhhhhh. The most notorious pirate in the asphalt seas. You may not want to be a pirate, but fate put you here for a reason. So I advise you to make the best of it.”

         “What reason is that?”

         “You possess certain...skills I need. They’re hard to find in this region. People have no taste these days. I saw your portfolio and you have taste.”

         One pirate filed his grungy nails until they were up to his standards, smiled smugly and kicked Alphonse in the ribs. He cried out in agonizing pain, gripping his side.

“Yeah make the best of it, you dripped out twat.”

3. Slushies and Bad Bitches

         Bamboo Beard stood on the brow of the ship, silently scoping out the suburbs through his platinum pocket telescope. Inside the spherical view, he saw the Bad Bitch a few streets over, cruising through the asphalt seas at warp speed. Somehow the beautiful captain of the vessel spotted him and threw her middle finger up.

         He grunted and grabbed his crotch in anger.

         “Arrrghhh Jasmine. I swear on Jolly Roger that these seas will be mine and only mine,” he shook his fist.

         “Bobby, change our course.”

         “Where to captain?”

         “Seven eleven. I need some liquid refreshment.” Bamboo Beard caressed his beard and adjusted his scarf around his neck.

         The ship slowly approached the port leading to the small 7 Eleven island. Pirates ran around the skin of the ship, thick ropes in hand, preparing to dock.

         Bamboo Beard put on his white Tom Ford sunglasses and brushed his hair before walking down the makeshift bridge.

         Customers stumbled out of 7 Eleven in a daze and collapsed, spilling their purchases all over the parking lot.

         Jasmine came out, the obvious culprit, strutting those beautiful hips of her and sipping on a green apple slushie like there was no tomorrow. She had long wavy black hair that spilled out from underneath a bright red beanie cap with a cute skull imprint, a tight-fitting denim corset, and sported a rare blue shimmering gemstone as an eyepatch. It looked uncomfortable, but damn was it fashionable.

         Bamboo Beard froze in her sights. His heart beat ridiculously fast inside his broad chest and his armpits began to sweat profusely. He hated her with every fiber of his being-her beauty, her grace, and her wonderful sense of fashion. Part of him wanted to confess his insane love for her, but his ego kept him in check and he had a role to play.

         You're the baddest motherfucker in the asphalt seas and don't you forget it, Bamboo Beard reminded himself.

         Jasmine sauntered over, her gold hoop earrings twinkled in the sunlight nearly blinding Bamboo Beard even though he was wearing sunglasses.

         “Sup,” Jasmine took an obnoxious slurp of her slushie and seductively licked her green lips which strangely complemented her eyepatch.  Even when she didn't mean to, she still managed to match.

         Bamboo Beard's hands were sweating, and he wondered if his wardrobe selection was impressive enough. “Nothing. Just grabbing a slushie. Enjoying the weather.”

         Enjoying the weather, he immediately regretted what he said. Who the hell says that?

         “Nice choice. It seems great minds do think alike,” she winked and walked off, back towards her ship that dipped and bobbed in the dock.

         He waved back to her, rattling his mind for some way to win her love and up his fashion.