Polynya

“You heard the goblin! Bring those numbers up to fifty thousand and get yourselves some cooter!”

Hiccup pinches the bridge of his nose for a second, doing his best to hold in his early morning disdain. He points his brass finger at Jim, who has just exited the back room, and gives him the lasso signal. “Get our fickin’ breakfast to go, Jimmy. Two dozen dragon wings with garlic honey pepper spice this time. There’s an airship going out at the Morning Hour of the Faun and the captain owes me a favor. And one more thing.”

Hiccup moves his brass finger from Ryuk to Zaena to FeeTwix.

“When we find Tammy and New Marbles, I get to be the one that kills New Marbles. We clear here? Sure, our Marbles here probably wants revenge, but that kiddy ficker exploded my head and I’ll be damned if I ever die that way again! I’ve been having ficked up nightmares all night, believe you me.” His eyes flash with concern as he mumbles, “Fickin’ hell if I’d put my chalupa anywhere close to an ink shadow, and I don’t know what the fick it kept trying to do to my bunghole, but it was … Fick me, what the hell are we doing here?”

“You, um,” FeeTwix giggles.

“What? I was what?”

“You were talking about killing New Marbles then you went off on a rant regarding a weird dream you had about an ink shadow coming close to your chalupa and it doing something to your goblin hole,” Zaena says.

“The fick you say, Lizzy? Why the hell are you talking about ink shadows, chalupas and bungholes? You’re really ficked in the head, you know that? Back to New Marbles. That little marble flinging bitch’s bitch is mine.”

“Only if I get to kill Tamana,” Zaena grits.

Ryuk starts to say something, but lets the moment pass. It is useless defending Tamana, and maybe a bit stupid as well. He saw what happened, and even though he knows there may be more to the story, his guildmates are right to feel vengeful.

“Which reminds me … ” The goblin digs around in his back pocket for a moment and produces a yellowed piece of parchment. He unfolds it and walks it over to Ryuk.

“And that is?”

“Well, if you’d take a clear look at it, you’d see that it’s our new fickin’ logo.”

Ryuk takes the piece of parchment with two fingers and turns it over. Hastily drawn on the document are two skulls, each with a pair of wings. The skulls hover in the air just over the hilt of a sword facing downwards.

“Our logo?”

“Yeah, the Mitherfickers. Everyone needs a logo. Where would Horse Piss be without that picture of the big horsey dong filling a mug with beer?”

“Let me take a look at that.” A plastic glove appears on FeeTwix’s hand and he takes the parchment from Ryuk. “Always keep a pair in your list,” he says under his breath.

“Real funny, Twixy, but I’ll forget the fact that you’re being a racist fickhole. Regardless of your racial biases, what do you think of the logo?”

FeeTwix scans the drawing for a moment, letting his fans have their say. “I’m definitely down with it, but I’m still trying to figure out why you think that two skulls with wings trying to deep throat the hilt of a sword would make a good logo for the Mitherfickers.”

Hiccup’s face flashes red. “Trying to deep throat the hilt of a sword!?” He jumps up and snatches the picture out of FeeTwix’s hand. “You know, both you and Liz have your minds in the fickin’ gutter.”

Jim clears his throat. “Sirs and madam, before you start adventuring, or planning people’s deaths, or coming up with poorly thought out guild logos, I think it is important that you see something. Follow me to the greenhouse, please.”

(0)__(x)

Jim leads the four Mitherfickers through the kitchen, where they see a heavyset chef and his saucier working on Hiccup’s breakfast request. The chef flours the wings which he then hands off to the saucier, who dips them and tosses them into the frying pan.

Hiccup stops griping about the Mitherfickers logo as soon as he takes one big whiff of the dragon wings. “Hurry it up, boys! Uncle Goblin is hungry!”

“Nique ta mere!” the saucier grumbles. “Casse-toi!”

“Sheesh, what’s gotten into that frog ficker?” Hiccup asks as they step out of the kitchen and into a narrow corridor.

“He doesn’t like to be rushed,” Jim explains hurriedly, “and I would suggest you not make eye contact nor speak to him on the way back through the kitchen. He’s been known to throw his cleaver at demanding customers.”

The hostelier pulls a key from his belt and unlocks a large green door, letting light spill out into the narrow hallway.

The greenhouse faces the Bonsor River, which sparkles in the early morning sun. Herbs and other edible plants reach to the glass ceiling. The small space is incredibly humid, and as Ryuk scans it, he spots the makeshift crib in the center of the greenhouse.

Hiccup buries his head in his mechanical hand. “Dragon ficks!” His hair lifts as Zaena ruffles it with her ghost limb.

“It hatched?” Ryuk asks as he approaches the manger.