Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Friday, August 22, 2008

The Number One Under Heaven (46)

“Plums! Get me some Panadol, would you darling?” Bazza called out. Reflected off the crystal waters of the bay, the brilliant sunlight appeared to have triggered a migraine, slightly distorting his vision while stabbing excruciating shards of pain into his temple and around the orbits of his eyes. But the erstwhile reggae star was still hungry for more images of the stunning, monolithic rocks that jutted up from the seabed, and continued to scan them greedily through his top-of-the-range Leicas. Like giant pricks, he surmised, reflecting on the extraordinary formations. Rock cocks, then. Hey – great title for a song! Must start working on it… After–

And it was then that he saw, far on the horizon, the tiny motor launch emerging through a gap between two of the giant boulders, a vision that sent his coffee-coloured body into excited convulsions. Quivering, he sped along the deck like a possessed puppy, almost knocking Plums over in the process. “Oi! Watch out, will ya?” Spinning deftly out of the way at the very last moment, the faithful valet somehow managed to keep both the pills and the glass of Dom Perignon from sliding off the silver tray he was carrying, waiter-like. “Sorry, Plums. And thank you, darling,” Bazza said, panting, as he finally came to a halt. Washing down the three white tablets with an equal number of large gulps from the champagne flute, he began to gush, giddily. “She’s here, Plums. Look. She’s coming!” Half-reluctantly, Plums took the binoculars that were being held out towards him, before feigning to search for the launch. “Not that way, silly! Over there!” Bazza yelled, gesticulating animatedly. “Look, stupid!” Evidently cross, Plums threw his boss a glare as he span extravagantly to face the direction indicated. “Oh, I do hope you’re not going to get all pissy, and jealous, like before,” chided Bazza, objecting to his manservant’s petulant display. “Because quite frankly, Plums, I can’t stand it when you behave like that.” The throbbing in his head was worsening by the second. Cruelly, it seemed as though the day was going to be spoiled, after all. It’s just not fair, Bazza thought, sulkily.

With a highly affected flick of his head, Plums suddenly turned on his heels and made to retreat below decks. Having seen it all before, Bazza was almost willing to let him go but, catching an arm, he pulled him up at the last moment, to begin restoring the harmony that commonly prevailed aboard the Glory. “Plums. Darling. Look, I’m sorry, OK. It’s just that I’m so… well… excited. Come on, we shouldn’t be arguing on a day like this. In a place like this. I mean – look around you, Plums. It’s like God created this place as a work of art. It’s so… so spiritual. And now she’s coming, too. Our beautiful little prize.”

But Plums was unsure. There was considerable doubt in his mind in relation to his boss’s decision to abandon his predilection for Asians, switching his attention instead to a Western kid. This was not to be one of the usual types of urchin that would be delivered to them, like takeaway food, from the streets of Phnom Penh, or Hanoi, after all. Not one of the unfortunates to whom Bazza would, in the form of sustenance, give as much as he would take from them in pleasure. No: this one had parents. Real people. And she went to school. It simply did not seem right. “B-Boss–” he began to stutter. But Bazza understood well the expression that had formed on his accomplice’s face, and knew what was coming. Cutting him off, he counselled: “Plums. Darling. I know what you’re thinking. But it’ll be all right, I assure you. Now, I’m going to have a lie-down. I’ve got a splitting headache and I need to be in the dark for a while. You take care of the little one until I feel better, OK? Make her feel comfortable. Play with her. You know what to do…”

And in this moment it would have been difficult for any casual observer to believe in the existence of God, for surely He would have sent a lightning bolt fizzing down towards the vessel and straight through Bazza’s callous heart, scorching Plums along the way.

posted by Kirk at 11:58 pm  

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