It was another of those days where the crews slaved away about those rickety old vessels anchored just off the coast of the sandy island. Just such days as these the captains would pitch their crude tents to shield their sun-bleached bones from the scorching summer sun.
“Chuck,” says Davy Bones as they sat each across from a bottle of rum. “I do believe ye be leakin’ like a carrack.”
Old Chuck Farthing looked to his ribs, from whence the rum poured free. It may be true that they sat across from the bottle, and they drank like men dying of thirst, but that is not to say it went anywhere but the floor.
“Eh? I wish we had ‘un of them creat’res with the four legs,” says he to his friend.
Davy Bones snorted in loud and blew out from his nose with a disgruntled sound. “Be ye talkin’ about an elerphant?!”
“No Davy… One o’ them other kinds. Smaller.”
Chuck scratched his beard. “Me aunt? What’s that got to do with…” He fell back and snored loudly.
His friend remained awake though, at least to the eye he seemed so. His brain had fallen asleep a long time past and was yet to wake up for more than the occasional trip to the bushes when nature called. Which it never did, but he’d of swore it did sometimes.
“What we really need is a dog,” Davy said, nodding like the wind blew his skull back and forth. “Aye, Bill me mate, a dog be man’s best friend. He eats all the food ye sp’lls, he barks to let ye know when someone comes to steal yer booty, and he buries bones all the time.”
Chuck Farthing rolled on his face and snored with sand in his jawbones. Davy picked up the bottle and slammed it against his skull. “Wha- Who happened? What got itt?”
“Oh, nobody. Ye was snoring. Thought I’d wake ye.”
“Never met him.”
“Me neither. Anyhow, I was just saying how a dog is a man’s worst enemy. He steals yer rations all the time, he yaps to scare the daylights out o’ ye, and he tears yer bones apart and buries them in a cruel sort o’ way. Plus dogs is stupid beasts.”
The two skeletons sat and nodded at that sound truth. They nodded for the whole of an hour while their ships were accidentally set ablaze outside. They nodded until they forgot why they nodded. “Want a drink, Chuck?”
“Would I ever, Davy.”
He took the bottle and had a drain of rum, before it drained through his ribs. Both skeletons stared. Chuck said, “We need one o’ them creat’res with the four legs.”
“No, a mop.”
“Oh, aye. Dogs be a man’s best friend, ye know.”