The knight had ordered another mug on top of his upside-down snores.

The skeleton’s croakier laughter echoed, and the Cuntant had changed tables.

The red door was more open than it was hiding the outside.

The Black Pearl glinted red. His fingers were smooth. He looked at the red shining lighthouse on the sky outside, then looked at the pearl. He shot up from his chair and moved to the door.

Joodle’s instinct shot up. THE PEARL!

He looked around to find too many of them; he jumped to save the pearl from the sea of eyes.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“TOO LATE~ that’s wut I said to dat drupe! BWAHAHA~,” the Cuntant explodes.

“huh?” he paused.

“Wut happened? Ya there, budd?” The Cuntant waves his hand before the soldier grizzly, whose wide eyes with pearl-irises stare at a distance.

That was the last minute he remembered before mayhem swallowed the whole tavern.

“Whoa!” the Cuntant falls back from his kicked stool.

“DE WEEDS OF DE DEVIL? Ya need ta–,” the Cuntant rises to see all the drinkers, drunkards, players and talkers jumping onto, struggling and fighting.

Someone’s arms had pushed that burning lamp.

UH-OH!