Lake Norman, Halloween night aboard Earnhardt's yacht, "Sunday Money"

Dale Earnhardt Jr. adjusted his Budweiser head-rag for that perfect rakish look and drew about himself a thick black belt with a ridiculously huge gold buckle. Rubbing his suitably scruffy chin, he took one last look in the mirror, satisfied at last with his appearance. Jeff Gordon, dressed ever-so-meticulously in his stripped shirt and baggy trousers, grinned and shook his head.

"Good grief, June-whatever prompted this idea for a party? You're not exactly the trendy sort when it comes to this Pirates of the Caribbean stuff."

Junior grunted and took a pull from his ever-present bottle of Bud, "Hell, I ain't even seen either of those movies yet. Just thought it might be a good idea for a Halloween party and a change of pace from our usual Frankenfurter weenie roast." (referring to the gang's annual Rocky Horror theme gathering for end-of-the-season hellraising and debauchery.)

Junior was about to add something to the last comments but a loud, bellowing roar drowned him out: "LOWER THE GANGPLANK, YE SCURVY WHORES!"

"Jesus…Smoke's tanked already." Jeff groaned. He peered out the window of the cabin and spied the burly Home Depot driver waiving from the dock. He laughed out loud, gesturing to Junior. "Omigod, check out his get-up!" Both men collapsed in a fit of giggles as they regarded Tony's tricorn hat (complete with an ostrich plume), swallow-tailed coat of claret velvet. His sturdy legs were clad in tan doe-skin breeches and high boots buffed to the fine. To top off this ensemble, his pet monkey, Mojo, perched menacingly on his broad shoulders.

Trying desperately to stifle his giggles, Junior hollered back, "State your name, pirate!"

Taken aback but only momentarily, Stewart thought for a moment and responded loudly, "Tis I, Cap'n Black Arse Barnaclenuts!"

Jeff looked incredulously at Junior, "Pirate names? I didn't know we needed pirate names!"

"Got it from when Daddy and ol' Neil Bonnet used to play pirates- they used to do this whenever they went salt water fishin'. Daddy was always Cap'n Slappy and Neil was Ol' Chumbucket." Junior explained with a shrug as Jeff regarded him with raised eyebrows, no doubt thinking that some parts of the Earnhardt family tree was somewhat spare of extra branches. Junior returned the doubtful look with his daddy's characteristic glare, "Well, what the hell-they're the ones who started this whole Halloween deal!" This did little to reassure Jeff or to relieve the disturbing image of the Intimidator as Cap'n Slappy in fishnet stockings…

Junior went to the head and yelled to Stewart, "C'mon fatass-just jump! I ain't getting' the damned plank down!" He can climb a goddamn catch fence but he can't hop from the dock to the boat…

"I don't wanna fall in, dammit! I gotta take this suit back tomorrow!" Stewart grumbled as he cautiously perched on the edge of the dock, hooking one foot at a time over the boat's edge. Mojo chattered nervously as his owner made the transition from dock to boat.

"Hey-you got some diapers for that critter? I don't want bow-to- stern monkey shit all over the place!" Junior growled as Mojo hissed and swatted at him.

Tony soothed the savage little beast, "It's ok, wait til he has kids of his own someday."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

By and by, the rest of the guests arrived and the party was starting to take on the appearance of a typical Earnhardt throwdown. Reverently, Junior took down the North Carolina state flag and replaced it with a grinning Jolly Roger. He had already covered the ship's given name with a banner, The Festering Boil.

"Festering Boil?? Ugh! June, that's disgusting!" exclaimed Kasey Kahne as he sipped a spiked concoction loosely labeled as "grog".

"Gotta sound like a pirate ship," Junior grunted then added with a smirk, "Snuggles."

Kasey groaned and shook his head, "I don't care if they are my sponsor, I'm never going to wear that firesuit again!" It was no secret that far too many found poor Kasey just delectable in that gleaming suit, coupled with his almost-fragile, angelic looks. Many admiring gazes, including those of Junior's estranged lover and former teammate, Michael Waltrip. At one taping of the popular Inside Nextel Cup, Waltrip was a little too revealing in his admiration for young Kahne. Something that caused many a snicker in the garage, and the unwelcome nickname, "Snuggles".

"What kinda pirate has a name like Snuggles?" Kasey glared at Junior.

"Lessee…" Junior scratched his whiskers and pondered for a moment, "How bout Saucy Snuggles Littlejib?"

"ARRRRRGHHH!!" Kasey threw up his hands in disgust and retreated to the cabin for another drink.

"Soundin' like a pirate already! That's the spirit, m'boy! ARRRGH!! " A somewhat besotted Robby Gordon raised his own drink in salute. "Hey Kase-wanna see what makes my Roger jolly?" He tottered after the hapless lad, sloshing his drink all over.

Stewart leaned thoughtfully against the ship's rail, "Uhm…June? Speaking of Michael-we weren't but you know it would come up anyway- you did invite Mikey, didn't you?"

Every year, when the gang gathered for the usual Rocky Horror event, Michael had always been a sort of master of ceremonies as the charismatic Frankenfurter, ever enticing in his leather and fishnet stockings. This year hadn't been kind to Michael as he changed teams, leaving DEI to start up his own. The growing pains of a new team resulted in missed races, disastrous finishes, underpowered cars and one very depressed driver. Usually Michael reveled in being center of attention for one and all, full of witty jokes and non-stop energy. This season had left him a drained, sad shell of himself, reclusive and angry. He had pushed all who were once dear to him away as he threw himself into gathering sponsorship for his fledgling teams. Pushing even Junior himself away….

Sighing, now brought down at these depressing thoughts, Junior nodded, "Hell yeah, I invited him. Don't mean he's gonna show though…"

"Poor guy…I feel bad for him. Well, maybe next year…" Stewart mused.

"I don't! Stupid asshole.." Robby burped as he stumbled uninvited to the conversation.

"Don't even start…" Junior growled as Stewart advanced towards Robby, sneering menacingly.

"We'll make ye walk the plank, ye scurvy scrotum!"

Kevin Harvick, who had been amusing himself eavesdropping on the whole conversation, piped in, "Aye, I'll make my teammate shove some of that rollbar paddin' up yer bunghole! AAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!!"

The sound of a hopped-up Tundra thundering down the road to the dock caught their attention as Stewart bellowed, "Thar she blows!" as he spied Michael at the wheel with Schrader and Greg Biffle riding shotgun. Parking the truck and swinging his lanky form out of the cab, Michael waived to Junior and called up with a broad grin, "Ahoy, bro!"

Junior sighed in relief, at least he was in a good mood, he thought. It was good to see Michael smiling for a change, instead of the dour visage that usually greeted one and all.

"Avast ya ol' salty dawg!"

Stewart called down, "Pirate! State yer name!"

Without missing a beat, Michael yelled back, "Furious Frenchy the Well-Endowed! ARRRRGHH!!!" This left Schrader and Biffle collapsing in hysterics while those on the ship shook their heads.

"Hmmm…he's soundin' like the Mikey of old!" Stewart grinned as Mojo hooted and pooped over the rail.

"Bug-Eyed Barnacle and Soggy Squid Chamberpot at yer service." Biffle called up as he waived ahoy to The Boil's skipper.

"Y'know, this pirate name thing is getting' outta hand…" Junior shook his head and sipped his beer.

As soon as the last of his guests were aboard, Junior hauled up the anchor and yelled, "C'mon ya dirty bitches, let's set sail and raise some hell! YEEEAAAAAHHH!!!!"

The shipped slipped into the deep water of the bay and rolled out into the blood-red sunset.

Michael grabbed a bottle of Captain Morgan's finest and pounded a long gulp of the burning rum. Belching loudly, he turned to a Schrader, "What's that they say about a red-sky at night?"

"Arrrgh! Tis a sailor's delight, me matey!" Stewart grinned wolfishly and grabbed a handful of Michael's haunch.

CHAPTER 2

As the sun dipped low over the horizon, turning the sky blood red-a suitable mood setting if ever there was one-most of the guests had settled in the saloon below deck. (a/n-I have no idea how big the original Sunday Money is, but for our purposes, it's a large yacht on par with Gordon's 24 Karat.) Stewart took it upon himself as "official bartender" and settled himself behind the counter, pouring drinks, mixing cocktails, (cheerfully oblivious to the actual ingredients or technique) all the while slugging down a bottle of Bacardi. His natural swagger and period clothes lent an air of authenticity to him as he entertained the increasingly raucous guests bellying up to the bar.

"Hey!" Hollered Schrader, already three sheets (and counting) to the wind, "Anybody up for a sing-along?" He produced an old squeezebox and plopped himself on the end of the bar.

"You actually know how to play that thing?" Junior asked, somewhat impressed that Schrader possessed any sort of musical ability beyond passing wind.

Schrader shrugged, "Sorta…my dad taught me years ago. All he could do was dirty songs though."

"Not that we'd complain…" Stewart, now interested in something besides eyeing Jeff's posterior.

"OK then!" Schrader started stomping his feet, the old squeezebox wheezing asthmatically away, "Here goes…it's an old tune, sung like `When Johnny Comes Marchin' Home'…or somethin' like that….

"I met `er down in Bristol town
Yo-HO…Yo-HO!
I met `er down in Bristol town
Yo-HOOOO….Yo-HOOOO!
I met `er down in Bristol town
She said `Hey Kenny won't you go down?'
Get in, get out, quit fuckin' about
Yo-Ho..Yo-HO…Yo-HO!"

The gang snickered and joyously joined in, their voices united in what could best be described as a guttural, drunken caterwaul. They did indeed sound just like a band of randy pirates or perhaps, more like an ersatz group of fraternity boys straight out of Delta House. (*the frat house in "Animal House" to you young `uns)

"I put m'hand upon her knee
Yo-HO! Yo-HO!
I put m'hand upon her knee
Yo-HO! Yo-HO!
I put my hand upon her knee
She said "you gotta be kiddin' me!
Get in, get out quit fuckin' about
Yo-HO..Yo-HO…Yo-HO!

I put my hand upon her tit
Yo-HO! Yo-HO!
I put my hand upon her tit
Yo-HO! Yo-HO!
I put my hand upon her tit
She said, "Hey Kenny, I'm likin' it!"
Get in, get out, quit fuckin' about
Yo-HO..Yo-HO…Yo-HO!"

Leaning against the wall at the end of the bar, a bit too shy to join the chorus, Kasey scanned the crowd. His innards felt a bit fluttery, not at all sure why he was even pursuing the object of his quest. He was certain that this evening was no doubt going to turn into a drunken orgy, and he had no intention of spending it with just anybody. He was well aware that he was high on just about everybody's "F-List" and truth be known, he wasn't all terribly enthusiastic about being passed around like a stripper at a Shiner's convention.

"Looking for someone?" a quiet voice purred. Kasey acknowledged Brian Vickers and tipped his drink to him.

"Hey…how's it goin'? You must be getting psyched for next season, driving for that Red Bull outfit and all." Kasey had no intention of revealing who he was looking for-especially since Brian often worked with the object of his quest on Mondays.

Brian shrugged, "Yeah..I'm looking forward to real team environment… it'll be great to drive for someone who can really appreciate what I'll bring to the table-even if it is Toyota and all the crap that goes with it." He paused, took a sip of his drink, wincing at the punch the 151 proof rum gave it, "Speaking of Toyota, did you see Michael tonight?"

Kasey nearly choked on his drink, "Uhm…I thought I heard his voice on deck earlier..haven't seen him. Thought he'd be down here for sure."

Brian grinned, "Well, if you see him-just tell him I've got something he wants." And he wandered off to join Elliot Sadler in conversation regarding Erin Crocker's driving ability (or more likely, lack thereof.)

Upon hearing his former crew chief's name and Ms. Crocker's bandied about, Jeff couldn't resist as he joined in with a hearty, "Arrrgh… how fares the old sea-hag?"

Elliot sighed, "Ah c'mon Jeff, Erin's got issues but she's not that bad…"

Jeff grinned, "Wasn't talkin' `bout that wench…I was talkin' bout Ray!"

Meanwhile, Kenny and his choir continued on what had to be the 50th verse of the song:

"I put m'hand upon her twat
Yo-HO! Yo-HO!
I put m'hand upon her twat
Yo-HO! Yo-HOOOO!
I put my hand upon her twat
She sez, "Hey Kenny, yer hittin' the spot!"
Get in, get out, quit fuckin' about!
Yo-Ho..Yo-Ho…Yo-HO!

Now she lies in a wooden box
Yo-HO! Yo-HO!
Now she lies in a wooden box
Yo-HO! Yo-HO!
Now she lies in a wooden box
From screwin' so many filthy cocks
Get in, get out, quit fuckin' about
Yo-HO! Yo-HO! Yo-HOOOOOO!"

Finally, the song ended while the group hooted and clapped as if it were the finest performance they'd ever seen. Kasey eased over to the buffet where there spread a feast provided by the finest chefs at Domino's-slabs of greasy pizza, boney, tired wings and lo and behold! Delectable little morsels oozing in chocolate: Fudge'ems. An image of himself slowly licking dripping fudge sauce from Michael's muscular torso nearly left him breathless as he scooped of the tasty treats in a box and hastily exited the party, hopefully unseen.

Well..almost unseen. Hastily looking over his shoulder, Kasey failed to notice the form that imposed itself between himself and escape.

"Waaaalll blow me down!" Stewart roared as he grabbed Kasey in a bearhug; gleefully clutching both buttcheeks.

Nervously laughing and gently extricating himself from Stewart, Kasey stammered, "uh…hey Smoke…'Blow me down!' heh..that's funny! B- but not right now..it's too early!"

Cackling like Popeye, Stewart buzzed him lightly on the throat, "heeheheh..I yam wot I yam an' that's all that I yam!"

"Really Tony-I'll catch up with ya later..I uh..uh…" C'mon and think, dammit! He thought furiously, "kinda gotta find the … uh ..facilities."

Stewart nodded sagely, "Ah yes, you don't buy booze..ya rent it. Head's down there." He pointed down the hall, just past one of the guest rooms. He shrugged, "Catch ya later, Kase…uhm..by the way, have you seen Mojo?"

"Dang, Tony…I did see him in the bar area…I think he pooped on the pool table."

"Damn, I knew I shouldn't have given him those Oreos…" Stewart charged off back to the bar. Junior could be heard snarling about a "goddamn baboon crappin' all over…."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"So where did Frenchy come from?" Brian prodded Michael as the two stood leaning against the ship's rail. Michael was still nursing the bottle of Captain Morgan's, while Brian sipped his grog. It was a warm, balmy evening, just the kind of night ripe for romance and shenanigans.

"Huh…oh that." Michael grinned, "I had a dream once…kinda weird...."

"You? Having a weird dream?" Brian laughed out loud. He couldn't help but flirt with the big man; everything about him was so enticing from the broad expanse of bare chest peeking from the open poet's shirt to the many steamy rumors that surrounded him. He moved ever so close, his hand lightly touching Michael's as it rested on the rail.

"Hmmm..hmm…it was a very strange dream. I can still remember bits and pieces. I was in New York-maybe Yankee stadium and this mobster guy-like Tony Soprano-kept callin' me Frenchy…."

"Heh…Frenchy. I like it!" Suddenly the two found themselves nearly nose to nose. "I'd like to find out why he called you Frenchy…" Brian murmured, so close to those full, soft lips….

Michael looked at him quizzically, "It's a little early to be startin' but…oh what the hell.." He was getting horny and here was a willing lad that was quite fuckable. "I never thought you were such a little slut, Brian."

"There's a lot of stuff you don't know…" Brian grinned as he pulled Michael's face towards his. He parted Brian's lips, caressing his tongue with his own, pulling the younger man tight against him.

Suddenly, a howling fury from Hell launched itself on his back as he lurched violently against Brian, soaking himself with the rum. The tiny demon managed to sink it's claws in the nape of his neck, drawing a bit of blood as it launched itself off Brian's head and went about it's way, howling down the deck.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! I'm gonna fuckin' kill that damned monkey!" Michael yelled, noticing the blood dripping down the front of his shirt.

"Damn..what the fuck was Stewart thinking anyway…" grumbled Brian, brushing himself off, no worse for wear. He looked at the blood soaking Michael's shirt. "Oh man, you better get that cleaned up….no tellin' what the little bastard's carrying!"

"You're right…I don't want some kinda monkey fungus or some shit..I'll be back in a minute…" Michael was already on his way to the bathroom to clean up.

Amidst this commotion, Kasey pulled himself back in the shadows. "Bulls' eye!" he snickered to himself. He hadn't meant for the little monkey to tear Michael up-he was aiming for Vickers but Michael was so tall, thus a more inviting perch for Mojo. He watched as Brian sighed and returned to the bar to calm his nerves. He'd have to catch up with Michael later.

Kasey grinned as his plans for an unforgettable evening were falling into place…

CHAPTER 3

It was like a twisted pirate version of the movie, "Cocktail" with both Junior and Tony doing synchronized bartending. The troops were stacked three-deep to the tiny bar, glasses raised; emptied quickly and then re-filled. Music pounded in the background as the even the hull of the ship reverberated.

"Pssst-June….are we gonna just drop anchor someplace or are we actually gonna let `em drive home?" Tony yelled as he filled another stein with suds.

"Are you kiddin'?? If word of this ever got out, Helton would barbeque my ass!" Junior yelled back.

"Hmmmph!....After Bri Bri got busted, you'd think they'd be a little more lenient…." Smoke snickered.

"What?? You mean that palm tree didn't run in front of Boy Wonder's Lexus?" Junior snorted derisively, remembering the current heir to the France family's little indiscretion that was conveniently covered up. Frowning, he glared at Robby, who was handling an old and obviously valuable antique chalice behind the bar. "Hey, fuckstick! Leave that alone!"

"Huh? You talkin' to me?" Robby sneered. "I ain't hurtin' it…just wanna take a look at that thing. What is it anyway?"

"Dad bought that years ago at a flea market someplace in South Carolina. It's close to 300 years old, solid silver. Some folks said it actually belonged to Blackbeard himself and there might even be a curse on it. In short, don't fuck with it, man."

Some of the older veterans at the bar leaned forward curiously. Terry Labonte, who was nursing a snifter of well-aged brandy, shook his head, "Didn't think he was into stuff like that…"

Junior nodded sagely, "Yep, Daddy always had a thing for pirates. Especially stuff about Blackbeard. Of all the great men in history, I think Blackbeard was one of his favorites. Especially the way he used to ram the bejesus out of the other pirate ships…."

Terry rolled his eyes, remembering a few of Dale the Elder's piratical tactics at Bristol, "Now he tells me….NOW he tells me..!"

"Hey, Smoke-fill this up with some of that good rum…" Robby held the old vessel to Tony as he reluctantly filled it, thinking there wasn't much harm in it other than the acute possibility of Robby choking on a large dust bunny at the bottom of the mug.

"Robby, I really wish you wouldn't…." Junior began.

"He's right…you don't wanna piss off a ghost-no tellin' what that curse will be." Terry finished.

Junior thought for a moment, briefly remembering some of the grief Robby gave Michael over the past couple of years. Suddenly he smirked-fuck it! If there's a curse, then he's welcome to it!

Outside, a crack of thunder rolled ominously across the bay…..

Kasey the wounded Michael quietly down the galley hall and slipped inside the guest cabin across from the bathroom. He checked out the comfy digs of the massive king-sized bed and soft, silky sheets. It was decorated in an old-time Victorian whore-house motif with lavish fringed lamps, thick rugs and velvet bed coverings. Even the walls were covered with red velvet paper in a dusky rose pattern. Most would consider it either quaint or hideous. In short, it's nothing you'd find aboard Jeff Gordon's cosmopolitan vessel. It suited the Festering Boil just fine though.

He unloaded his booty of Fudgems on the nightstand and lit a gilt

hurricane lamp for atmosphere; always checking the door across for Michael. For months Michael had made no bones about being attracted to him Most laughed it off as a "man crush" but after some rather direct comments from Michael, it was obvious that Kasey was becoming something of an obsession. At first, Kasey was more than a little ill-at-ease with Michael's attention. Hell, he could almost be down- right embarrassing at times. But knowing deep down that Michael was basically a sweet soul who meant no harm, Kasey now found himself oddly attracted to the big man.

He was a little afraid that Junior would kick his ass, but as time went on, it became obvious that Junior and his former team mate were no longer quite the item they once were. In fact, Kasey found himself a little annoyed by Vicker's advances on Michael.

Slowly Kasey undressed in front of the mirror, admiring his lean physique in the reflection. Ah yes, the old lamp lent the perfect light. Sliding onto the bed, he lay there on his stomach, bare rump in the air and Fudgems on a little plate as he waited for Michael to finish with his clean-up after Stewart's damned monkey lit into him.

Suddenly Michael emerged from the bathroom, a little frazzled and completely shirtless. Kasey stifled a gasp and cautiously called out, knowing that Michael might not be in the mood for anything other than drinking heavily and monkey hunting.

"Hey, Mikey…?" He called softly, hoping to get Michael's attention.

Michael paused, frowning slightly as he looked behind himself. "Huh?"

"It's me-Kasey…I'm in the cabin across from the bathroom." Scratching his head, Michael peered into the recess of the room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. Kasey gave him a little wave and an almost coy, sidelong smile. "Hey Big Boy…care to join me in a little chocolate and Merlot?"

Michael almost swooned-it was if one of his favorite fantasies had suddenly come to life. Composing himself, he sauntered in, flattered beyond belief that the younger driver had even taken a real interest in him. He took in Kasey's sleek, naked form stretched out on the bed, savoring the moment as he knew he might not ever get another shot at this again. He spied the Fudgems and laughed in spite of himself.

"Ah…Dominos Fudgems! You sure know how to butter me up!" He laughed as he began to shed his own clothes. (or what was left of them.) Kasey watched intently, eyes raking those long legs and firm, tight haunches. Michael had put on a little extra weight over the past year since he was no longer in heavy marathon training, but if Kasey noticed, he didn't show it.

"Butter you up?" Kasey laughed, "You do have the cutest butter butt… but I think I'd prefer some chocolate on that body…!" He pulled Michael down on the bed, admiring the big man's muscular torso. He rose and grabbed a bottle of wine that he fished out of the cabin's wet bar and offered the plate of Fudgems to Michael as he took a sip from the bottle.

Michael eyed the way Kasey's lips wrapped around the end of the bottle, envisioning them wrapped around something a bit more substantial. As if reading his thoughts, Kasey offered the bottle to Michael and while he took a deep swig of the wine, Kasey tentatively dabbed a bit of the gooey fudge on Michael's bare chest. He was thankful that Michael wasn't particularly hairy-that would be a bit messy. Michael set the bottle down and leaned back while Kasey continued to finger paint him with fudge.

"Mmm…give me one of those Fudgems.." Kasey obliged and popped one of the morsels into Michael's mouth; his fingers lingering on those full lips. Lowering himself to Michael's chest, Kasey began to slowly lick the fudge away, his tongue dancing on Michael's fudge covered nipples. Michael moaned as he closed his eyes….this had to be a dream!

The room seemed to fade away as the intoxicating effects of the wine and chocolate took control. Michael smeared a bit of fudge on Kasey's chest and began to devour him. Both men were a sticky, sweaty mess as hot flesh met hot flesh. Kasey was so small, delicate almost as Michael gently wrapped his arms around him.

"Mmmm..Snuggles…" He purred as he nuzzled Kasey's neck.

Instead of recoiling at the detestable nickname, Kasey buried his face in Michael's neck and wrapped his limbs around Michael's body, drawing him even closer.

"I've heard someone call you Frenchy…" he started as Michael began to feverishly nibble and lick his way down Kasey's slender form. "Where'd that come from? …uhm…are you going to show me…?" He gasped as Michael's warm lips encircled his most delicate, delicious parts.

Suddenly, a low rumble of thunder rattled the windows, sending shudders through the room. Kasey hated storms and instinctively clung to Michael.

"Awww…it's ok…" Michael grinned and hugged him close. As he looked up, a shadowy figure paused in front of the door. Whoever it was, was dressed to the nines in piratical finery..but what a costume! The man appeared well over 6 and a half feet tall, with a flowing beard and almost glowing eyes. He grinned wickedly as Michael and Kasey (who was underneath Michael at the moment) looked up. The man mumbled something guttural and walked down the hall.

Kasey frowned, "What'd he say?? Who was that??"

Michael gently kissed the top of his head and shrugged, "I think it was Elliot-he seriously needs a shave. Hell of a costume though…I think he said, `Git R Done!'…or something like that."

Thunder rumbled again and Kasey trembled as Michael held him close. Lowering himself on the younger man, Michael picked up where he left off.

"Don't worry, Snuggles…gonna make you forget about that storm ..and everything else…." He whispered.

Back in the bar, the lights suddenly flickered. Junior frowned and headed back towards the bridge to check the electrical supply. He happened to look up and froze in his tracks as he spotted the other ship drifting towards the Festering Boil.

"What the hell…?!!" he breathed as he regarded what could at best be described as an ancient merchant's clipper in full sail. It was more apparition than ship but he could smell the stench of the decks, ropes, oil and something that seemed an almost palpable aura of decay.

Robby. It had to be Robby fucking around with that old chalice! Or maybe with a little luck, I'm just fuckin' drunk and hallucinating… or something…..

That thought was put out to pasture as the bigger vessel bumped against the Boil's hull.

"Oh..goddamn it! What the fuck are we gonna do now…?"