All Anne had left to wear was the frilly gown Charlotte had made for her. Not exactly her style but she remembered with some fondness what ****** had said about presenting herself as a lady.
The Kid arrived in the dining room hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. The big woman had ****** out everything he had in him, in a good way, but he felt like he’d lost a few pounds.
“What’s for supper, Mabel?” he asked his voice somewhat unsteady.
“They’s mermaid soup, mermaid cutlets, mermaid fricassee, mermaid casserole, mermaid steak and grilled mermaid fritters.”
“Ain’t there nothing to eat besides mermaid?” he groaned.
“Seaweed,” she said curtly.
“Gadurnit. We’ve been eatin’ mermaids and weeds for days. How about an old fashioned T-bone?”
“You get the cow and I’ll cook it up.”
****** came in looking not at all amused, “Say, Kid we need you up on deck.”
“Yes’m, Mister ******,” said the kid following the cowboy to the aft where ****** pointed over the water.
“We’re being followed. Fritz said there’s a school of mermaids out there. They followed from the island so they can’t be friendly. Think you can pick ‘em off?”
The Kid took his hat off and wiped his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Shoot, Mister ******, that’ll be like shootin’ fish in a barrel, ‘cept it’s the ocean and the fish are mermaids, an’...”
“Just get to it. As soon as you spot one blow it’s ******* brains out. That’s the only way we’re gonna get rid of them. You’ve been with Anne Bonny have ya.”
“How can ya tell?”
“You’ve got her scent all over you. There’s only one ***** onboard smells like she’s been rolling in a soggy mud patch.”
“Gee, ya think Mabel noticed?”
“That gal lost her sense of smell a long time ago. Take care of that business and Mabel’ll be all over ya like always.”
“I reckon you’re right. Let’s shoot us some mermaids.”
“Now you’re talking, Kid. Let’s do it.”
Sinking far below the waves, the evil swimmers kept their telltale fins out of sight, gliding along with the ship’s shadow as it sailed beneath the bright waves. The Kid and ****** scanning the water eyeing only dolphin and shark. “They’re smarter than they look, Kid. I’d bet they put these varmints up to swimming around the boat so they could cook up a scheme. They may taste like fish but they think like women.”
“Gosh, Mister ******, ain’t that the best of both worlds?”
“I guess that depends on which end you get ‘em by.”
Soon after, sailing smoothly out of the Caribbean waters piloted by the old mariner Popeye and navigated by the allwise general, the Green Belle ran afoul of no other nemeses as it made its way down along the east coast of South America. With no real roles on the ship, ****** and Medusa found themselves spending more and more time with each other.
“Why don’t you do something with yourself,” she scolded.
“What?” he said on edge from her relentless rasping nagging.
“All you do is pace. Why don’t you make yourself useful. Fetch me a mint julep” she ordered haughtily; staying in the covers and bedclothes she’d been in for a week.
“Fetch? Fetch! What do I look like?” he growled meanly.
“I’ve been trying to figure that out,” she said snippily.
His eyes flaming he stormed from the room, Medusa paying his tantrum no mind.
Finding Perry with Charlotte in the study, ****** had finally had enough with the uppity Gorgon. “Perry, I need to borrow that contraption.”
Perry, startled making out with the handmaid behind a brocade curtain was just as surprised to hear ******’s request. “Are you sure, Mister ******? You told me you never wanted to see the temporal distorter again.”
“Not that. I’m not gonna mess with that. There are more things going on than you’ve dreamed up in your philosophy. I mean the ship, the Leaping Lizzie. I’m going to take her out and scout ahead. I just need to get off this ****** boat. Get a change of scenery.”
“That’s sounds like a splendid idea, Mister ******. Let’s go discuss it with Fritz. He has maps of the terrain. Depending on what you see we can make any necessary corrections.”
“You’re a right smart feller, Periwinkle. I’ll go scare up Fritz.”
“I’ll go prepare the ship. I’ll meet you up on deck.”
As soon as ****** had left, Medusa grew bored. She found him with Perry on deck standing before the crabship. “What’s going on?” she asked observing the mechanical tentacles at rest.
“Mister ****** is going off to do some exploring,” said Perry. “The Leaping Lizzie II is perfect to find out what’s ahead.”
“Oh!” she said gaily. “I’m going with you!”
“You are?” said ******.
“Let me get Dawn.”
“Dawn?” he said.
****** and Perry looked at one another incredulously.
“I wanted some time alone,” said the cowboy pensively.
“Fiddle-dee-dee! We won’t be any bother at all,” she said fluttering down the hold.
“******. Will I never be rid of that infernal woman,” ****** snarled.
“Now, now, Mister ******. Miss Medusa is only looking out for you. After all you’re only flesh and blood.”
“And she’s a primordial cosmic force. I get it.”
Momentarily the green goddess and her faithful Lady of the Bedchamber were hauling strapped leather cases and hat boxes on deck. “What the hell is all this?” he hollered.
Her eyes met his meltingly. “Why, Mister ******, you don’t expect a lady to go around in the same old dress all the time. We’re going on an adventure. Think about it; the unexplored Amazon! Who knows what kind of beasties we’ll run into!”
“And you want to be dressed for the occasion.”
Smiling she began directing Dawn in loading the ship.
Fritz came up with a rolled map and handed it to ******. “Here you are, ******. The Amazon is due southwest. How do we stay in touch with you?”
“I’ve installed a ticker,” said Perry. “The same kind we used to communicate with Mistress Medusa when she was off conquering the moon.”
******’s eyes flared hopefully. “Yeh. Say Medusa you be in charge of communications. It’ll be your job to stay in contact with Perry and Fritz. Think you can do that?”
“Why, sure, Mister ******,” she said politely, “Um, would you help a lady aboard?”
“Sure,” he said taking her small waist and heaving her up to the hatch, her petticoats billowing in his face.
In another time and place not that far away, Remy Clarke Savage found his life with renewed purpose. Esmeralda and their now several children resting in the shaded grove while he completed yet another monumental life’s work; a machine that would far outstrip the crude Leaping Lizzie in speed and capabilities, outfitting this new vessel with several cannons of Greek fire and exploding shells.
Captain Quick, Lance and Lizzie bonding as family were wary of the zombie hordes all around them. Vampyr mermaids dancing in the inland lake while the rotting crew sang haunted shanties, hoisting steins of ghostly ale. “Ay I’ll be glad to be off this deadman’s reef,” muttered Quick. “Can’t you hurry it along, Remy? I’m wondering if we’ll live through another sunset.”
The dead pirate who’d become liaison to the mortals was Lizzie’s second maid-in-waiting; a woman with two long blonde braids that steadily grew the longer she was dead. Her brain intact and her looks not completely gone. “Ay Captain, my mateys be starving and you bunch are the only meat left on the island.”
His fears confirmed, Quick replied sharply, “I thought your bunch was living off them mermaids.”
“They’ve all turned. Not a one of them is alive or breathing. They’s all vamps and we’z all zombies. Like I was saying you bunch be the only real meals left.”
“Meals?” gulped Remy.
“Is that reason enough to hurry it along, man?” called Quick drawing his broadsword.
Lizzie and Lance drew theirs getting to either side of the Captain.
“You won’t be eating no brood of my *****, missy,” snapped Lizzie.
“Ay that we be lest you can get us raw meat and some brains.”
“Remy!” hollered the Captain as the engineer made the final adjustments.
“She’s all set to go. Hop in.”
“We appreciate your stalling, lassie, but we’s be taking our leave.”
“Aargh!” shouted the pirate woman drawing her sword. The others clambering to groggy feet, weapons in hand. Mermaids snapping sharp teeth from the water’s edge. Esmeralda carrying an armload of children scrambled inside the vessel first, followed by Remy and Lizzie.
“Com on mateys!” he cried as Quick and Lance clashed steel with the lunging pirates. Lance getting inside followed by Quick, Remy quickly shutting the hatch. The behemoth raising up on articulated legs. The dead pirates swords were no match for Greek fire as Remy unloaded a volley onto the beach setting everything ablaze.
Feeling themselves being cooked in the shell Remy manipulated his creation to walk into the water continuing on to the open sea where he propelled it away from the irreparably devastated reef crashing in under its own sodden weight. “Ay there be me home for many a yarn,” he mused. “Now it’s gone.”
“Ay the ****** place was haunted; infested with the undead. That be no home for a living man,” said Lizzie putting an arm over his shoulder. “I be liking your firepower, Remy. How long can that hold out?”
“Indefinitely. Greek fire is inexhaustible.”
“Inexhaustible you say? What say we catch up to that Green Belle and give ‘er what’s her comeuppance?”
“Ay man they’ve got the key to a treasure that’ll be rightly ours,” added Quick.

The steamship was caught in hellish breakers and about to ground ashore. The storm not noticed until it enveloped the craft in tossing gales of ripping rains and tearing lighting. The pirates had been stranded so long Lizzie had given birth. It wasn’t Quick’s, as the twins had red hair and the lone redhead among the crew was first mate Lance; no one paying any mind, she and Lance openly cuckolding the irascible Captain, who had other matters on his mind. He’d lost Bonny whom he’d paid good money for. In his mind the ***** was a runaway slave and that would only up the price. A feisty strong-willed slave was well worth the pursuit. The missionaries making it ashore on a raft of lifeboats genteelly disembarked at the shore’s edge. Captain Quick getting to his feet raising his pistol and forewarning the others.
“Ay! Looks like we’ve got company, laddies,” he said. “Pilgrims.”
Esmeralda had also given birth; to Remy’s child, the mad genius coming from his much expanded hovel; he and the pirates making a culture for themselves using shells for currency and as ornaments. “Ay what is it, Quick?”
The silent pilgrims drew closer. Quick held his pistol to ready. “They be ghosts I say.”
The tallest vampyr approached them. His lips dry and white speaking without moving. “We seek the Oracle.”
“I’ve got your oracle,” snapped Quick and fired.
The male pilgrims drawing pistols fired on the pirates who jumped to their feet pistol and sword at the go. Ball shot and blood broke out across the beach. Remy at the mercy of the Nosferatu's claws until Quick put a bullet through the vampyr’s head. Remy dashing back into his hovel turned a mushroom cap that emitted sympathetic mists of spores from the overhanging tendrils; microscopic creatures eating into the vampyr’s sandy flesh. The pirates continuing to flail on the withering pilgrims, firing useless ***** until the Nosferatu men were collectively defeated leaving only the female undead standing.
“Alright, you lassies, line up over here,” commanded Captain Quick, “And get those clothes off! Remy! Ya got those irons made of claws?”
“Yes, I have them right here,” said the genius coming from his home carrying an armful of unbreakable restraints.
“Fasten ‘em together. These wenches’ll be fetchin’ a good price. Dare say they ain’t virgins. Godforsaken Puritans they be,” said Quick and spit. “I said get them black rags off!” he raged but the women didn’t move their stiff arms from at their sides. “Okay, boys, have at ‘em!” he shouted and all at once the pirates pounced.
Tearing the austere garments off the backs of the demuring pilgrim women the pirates groped and fondled the wan figures with brusque brutality, pushing them to ground and forcibly parting their rigid limbs. Taking turns ****** every woman old, young and in between, the pirates found themselves growing sick, their skins blanching green and purple.
The blonde child much older than her appearance took one bearded scurv and bit deep into his jugular slurping up the profuse red liquid. Each woman never making a sound taking firm hold of the seafaring hoodlum atop of them, writhing in serpentine gyrations the pirates mistook for arousal, grinding the brittle hips and ******* the pus laden lips; the women’s bones breaking apart due to decomposition all the same sinking their fangs into the lustful wild men; blood spewing in every direction over the white sand.
Now it was the pirates that were vampyrs with only Quick, Remy, Lance, Lizzie and Esmeralda and their three children mortal. Quick, seeing the advantages of an undead crew set about thinking how best to use them.

Glancing out the rear port Perry could see the rainforest smouldering under the violent rainstorm. “We just missed that storm,” he said.
“Is that all we missed? Medusa, Dawn how are you two doing?”
“Why, Mister ******, I didn’t know you cared about my well being.” said Medusa most cattily.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Taking the airship farther downriver ****** scanned the horizon for an outlet to the wide stretch of rapid water along its winding tributary branches. “Perry, in that ticker tell ‘em there’s no way out this end. They’d best stay heading south along the Main.”
“Alright,” said Periwinkle again squeezing past Lizzie who didn’t budge as he wedged beside her.
“We’re getting a ticker tape from the Leaping Lizzie” shouted the professor. “It’s Perry,” he said reading it aloud. “No outlet at Amazon’s end..keep heading due south..along the Spanish Main…”
“Why if we stay due south we’ve go over the edge of the world. The south pole is entirely unexplored.”
Fritz was made excited by the prospect of sailing off the world. Bob not so much.
“You gentlemen can certainly sail into the wide unknown but I have no intention of doing so. Ting A Ling is homesick and I for one would like to get off the water. It’s all I can do to keep my catch down.
Tennessee chimed in, “I’m with Mister Bobcat. I sure would like to sink my teeth into something ‘sides week old mermaid.”
“Here, here, my boy,” rooted Bob. “Why don’t you gather your chattel and come along. We’ll disembark in Tierra Firme.”
“Gather my what?”
“Your woman, boy, get your woman.”
“Oh, you mean Mabel! Sure ‘nuf.”
Clearing a space in the rear of the Leaping Lizzie, ****** and Perry went over the map. Medusa piloting the ship and showing Dawn how to manage to controls in her absence.
Philo at the ticking machine kept abreast of Perry’s ongoing reports.
“It seems we’ve avoided a great deal of trouble. Man-eating monsters and cannibals, and he says the forest is on fire.”
The settlements along the coast of Terra Firma were a mixture of Spanish provincial and the remnants of older palaces and fortresses built long ago by the ancestors of the native people, the Green Belle steering into the outlying coastal town of Portobelo. The Kid and Mabel having no baggage, Bob hired a carriage to bring them to a fancy hotel. The sour-faced woman running the establishment looked at the couples suspiciously. She didn’t trust cats although these two were dripping with jewelry and stinking of big money. The lanky gunslinger and former hostess just stank. But Mabel, brassy and outgoing, soon had the gal charmed with her idle nattering.
The Kid wanted to pay for his and Mabel’s rooms but Bob giving his imprimatur covered all their expenses.
“Why, thank you, Mr. Bobcat.”
“Don’t sweat it, boy. Those six-guns of your have been a blessing so far. We’ve been through some scrapes haven’t we?”
“That’s for **** sure."
“Let’s go get a drink and toast our good fortune. Come, ladies,” said Bob, ushering the party along.

Pirates from the sunken ship making it ashore on a dilapidated raft landed on the shoe of a reef that was home to a scurvy knave who’d once been master engineer to the Royal Navy until *** took over his thinking and he began to concoct schemes to overthrow the Crown.
Dismissed as an insane crackpot he’d been set adrift by his shipmates; coming upon the aerated cluster of marine life that was chock full of unusual and bizarre aquatic creatures and minerals; now dwelling this long among the coral creating living machines from the articulated pincers and shells of all but unknown gigantic crustaceans living on and around the reef.
Bringing liquor made them more than welcome as some of the pirates had survived clinging to a chestful of buoyant ***. The old Navy man running from his coral-thatched hut. Seeing the chest first of all he finessed the lock with a sharp fingernail tossing the chest open and guzzling down a bottle. “Ay man!” cried Captain Quick.
“I saw ‘em bring ya down,” the old mad man croaked.
“Was it a rocket?” asked the brawny woman coming up from the beach.
“Who the hell knows,” said the beachcomber.
The fierce and ***** Lizzie Quick had two gold teeth in front, one incisor on the right and one opposite front tooth outlined in gold. Her back teeth were ALL gold. So she was never without bandelier and pistols even when she slept, or ***** knaves would try to pry the gold right out of her head but now she carried a long knife at her side and a shorter rapier in her ruined kneehigh embroidered Spanish leather condorosa boots. Her red satin corset was embroidered with gold silk and her soaked hoop skirt were red and purple just because they could be. Normally light on her feet, soaked to the skin she felt as if she were wearing lead bloomers. Calling her serving ***** Esmeralda from the sand, the woman began arduously removing her mistress’ clothing layer by layer. The scavenging hermit helping himself to another bottle of ***.
“Ay man, I say, where we be?” tried Quick once again.
“You be on Wild Island, my island and ya best get off it. There’s no room for ya.”
“Ay man, you say you saw what happened out there did ya?”
“Sure did. That hole opened up and blew a **** I could smell from here. Couldn’t get away from it if I tried but it sent a blast of black **** through the air like a jet.”
“Like a what?” said the pirate.
“It’s a kind of rocket, short for ‘jettison’. I can do the same thing with a lobster. Launch it near into space.” Quick was convinced the isolated kook was completely out of his mind. The ruddy tattooed woman stripping completely naked with no inhibitions, her equally inked dark-skinned servant dutifully peeling the wet garments from the darkly freckled body.
Quick picking up a bottle drank it down and tossed it to the sand.
“Say, matey, this ain’t your home. Don’t be discardin’ your waste on me property.”
“Who be you old man?” said the stinking pirate even after a bath.
“They call me Savage but that’s just me name. I was somebody once, an engineer in the King’s Royal Navy. I put ships on the water. Built me own right here on this here island. But I ain’t got nowhere to go.”
“You say you have a ship?” said the Quicks together.
“Say old man, how would you like some choice *****?” broached Esmeralda.
The old man squinted, “What’s that matey? Pushups? I don’t do push-ups.”
“Cooch, me hardy. Me woman’s woman’s offering you some ******. Have at it eh?”
The old man sat down in the sand to think it over.
“I haven’t had a wooden leg on many a yarn. Are they still usin’ ‘em the same way?”
“Nothin’s changed a bit, my friend. That ship out there, it’s full of women, me hardy.”
The old man’s eyes finally widened brightly as he peered from beneath his shade hand. The Green Belle out at sea gliding smoothly across the waters her wake clear as crystal.
“There be women on that thar ship?” said the sailor. “I be needing a wife.”
“Then it’s settled. You help us take that ship and you’ll get the pick of the litter.”
“Deal!” said the lonely codger wagging the pirate’s hooked paw.
“Now how about that thar ship of yours?”
“It’s a mechanical ship. Does your band know anything about machinery? Moving parts and such?” queried the stranded relic.
“I can rig a mean mast, matey. Me whole crew’s expert at workin’ a ship no matter what size.”
“I don’t **** care about that, matey. My ship goes under the water.”
“It sinks?”
“No, *******. It moves under the water like a fish.”
Quick scrubbed his jaw and pondered, turning to his first mate.
“Mister Lance, can you make anything out of what he’s saying?”
“He seems to have a moving...er...no, sir. I haven’t a clue.”
“Okay, old man, you win!” shouted the pirate queen herself, dragging the man by the feet into the hut. He was fine with it because he was drunk and his limbs like rubber. She was done shortly, returning to the crew on the beach. “He’ll be needing a rest. In the meantime why don’t we think up a plan?”

"******. Will I never be rid of that infernal woman?"  ****** snarled.

"Now, now, Mister ******. Mistress Medusa is only lookin' out for you. After all, you're only flesh and blood."

"And she's a primordial cosmic force. I get it."

Another sun sets on our lovers as the gods laugh. Y'all know how they love a good laugh.


"Ridiculum" copyright Johnny Noir and A. Wild 2018

"******. Will I never be rid of that infernal woman,” ****** snarled.
“Now, now, Mister ******. Miss Medusa is only looking out for you. After all you’re only flesh and blood.”
“And she’s a primordial cosmic force. I get it.”

~Johnny Noir

The collective  Queens of Space
were helpless in all this. Medusia
was on the moon, a satellite of the earth
which was embroiled in an all out
war between the various planes.
Light was at war with dark; red
with yellow and green with blue._
The sea raged against the land
and fire burned the sky. It was no
longer even man against man,
as that had been settled by generations
of violent overthrow and punitive
order. Man had crushed his own
civilization under its own weight;
building factories to make          bricks
to build more factories to make
more bricks to build more  factories.
The last invasions  hadn’t gone well.
The aliens hadn’t counted on savage
ghost fighters who could appear any
place at any time and inflict far  more
damage than anticipated by  anyone.

“Ghouls are brainless killers. There has to be a central directing intelligence,” said Bob. “I once knew a *****...I won’t say where or her name but that being said, she was the oldest working ******* that particular stroll, and in fact the mother of all the other ****** for generations going back to her youth.”
“Very colorful tale, Roberto, but we’ll got other things...”
“No no no. I’m making a point,” said Bob going to the liquor tray and pouring a glass of sherry. “The oldest ***** was the mother of all the other ******. So wouldn’t it make sense that the oldest ghoul is the spiritus familia of the rest?”
“Yes, yes, but where on earth are we going to find the world’s oldest ghost?”
“We’ll have to go further back in time than anyone has ever gone,” Bob pronounced portentously.
You’ll have to go further back than anyone will ever go to find the first person who ever died.”
The professor added his theoretical wisdom of the subject: “Roberto, you must beware of the paradise paradox. What will you do if you go back so far no one has yet died?”
“I’ll have to **** someone. Perhaps beat Cain to the mark. Maybe I’ll **** Cain himself, if there’s any truth to the fable.”

The junk’s steam engine replaced with moving vent ***** the long ship glided from the mooring toward open water. Bob was on deck preparing to inform everyone of his scheme when from the dock came the cries of the little nun running at breakneck pace in her cumbersome black garb. Behind her and closing in a hostile mob carried raised torches and pitchforks in a sun being overshadowed by an ill-timed eclipse.
Several of the men swinging ropes as if a witch could be hanged more than once; but the vicious townsfolk were mistaken. Sister Ramera a faithful woman of god raised by nuns from birth and knowing no other way of life, was about to be lynched before their eyes as the ship slipped away from the dock. Using his distorter Bob was on the pier with the girl but now they were both cornered, open water at their backs.
Perry jumping across deck leapt into the Leaping Lizzie and brought her straight into the air. The townsfolk instantly distracted by the high oblong shadow with jointed tentacles for legs. The sounds of the screams outpaced the stampeding boots as every person fled in blind terror. Bringing the flying vessel gently to the dock Perry appeared from the hatch.
“It doesn’t look good for your friend, Bob. She’d better come with us. Her life is in certain danger if she stays here on Tierre Firme.”
“You heard the man, shall we go?” said Bob gamely.
Taking a last look at what would be her birthplace in another fifty years, Ramera saw the destroyed and satanically reconstructed brick church for what it really was; a dark pit leading to a darker emptiness. She had grown from an infant to a child into a woman. Now she was only a woman. The very last Hemera el Iglesia de Santa Papá Noel; the last Sister of the Order of Santa Santa. Bob and Perry assisting her into the crabshell, she settled in a heap of heavy black material as Perry took the controls and they lifted off. Perry and Bob eyeing one another knowing full well she wasn’t going to go around in habit and wimple. Ramera knew it too. What were Orders when there was no longer any order; when the devil had possessed the ground itself and turned the building into a synagogue of Satan.

The Christians Jesus, Ramera and Bonnie Jeanne
came in together. Bonnie carrying the lit white
devotional candle that was her thing.
Ramera reading from her handwritten facsimile
of the good book, Jesus knowing the words
by heart graciously dictating parts
but she hadn’t had time to do the entire book.
Jesus raised his hands declaiming like a lunatic,
everybody getting that he was talking
to his unseen father. “Bless this mission
and these children of god! Be they saved
or unsaved let them find your light and come home!
Guide them on their journey oh heavenly father!
Protect them in this hour of peril!
Say, did I ever tell you the one about the rabbi,
the beggar and the *******...stop me if you’ve heard it.
So the Rabbi says ‘how much for a two-for-one?’ get it?”
Ramera was already drinking, Annabella
looking on with concern. Ramera wasn’t that big
to begin with and now she was mostly alcohol.
Drunk all the time and hanging out of her clothes
the little sister had no concern for her soul.
She was saved many times over for a certainty.

****** needed to clear his head if he were going to find some kind of a way of wrapping his tired brain around all the crazy stuff thrown at him non-stop since he first laid eyes, and hands, on the green-skinned belle back on that dirt road. Seemed like a thousand years had passed. When it was really only what, a month, maybe two. **** temporal distortion. It really was messing with his mind. He couldn't seem to get enough of other women to make a difference. All he saw in his dreams, in his private moments, in the back of his mind when each fresh disaster struck was Medusa's golden green eyes. Well, not just her eyes; her perfect heart-shaped *** that time she walked naked with him beside the Amazon. He thought of all the times she’d straddled him in the moonlight, the candlelight, the daylight. He’d watched her ******* bounce with his every ****** and the way her neck would arch back like a wild winged thing just before she finished. He grabbed the white kerchief off his neck and wiped his sweaty face. Thinking about the Gorgon was making him a crazy man. “How she’d hiss and laugh if she knew what she's done to me” he thought grimly. ❤

Wherever Medusa went she was releasing gaseous clouds so she thought it best to go back to the stateroom. Her refined bathroom apparatus would be redirected to its purpose. It was politely called the ‘bath-room’, when in all honesty it served mostly as the *******. She lit every scented candle all over again this time hoping to drive away or at least mask the noxious odor. Gratefully, ****** had disappeared most likely off with one or another of the ship’s hot and cold running ******.  
Mixing the doctor’s tincture with whisky, Medusa drank down the mixture in a swift gulp. Almost immediately she felt the pressure inside pushing in all directions. There was the toilet with its cool polished sheen; ivory porcelain beckoning her **** to rest its divide over the cool rippling lake waiting to welcome her turds as if they were saintly deities dropped into the darkened waters. This would be the best **** ever. Tossing aside the yellow kimono, legs astride the bowl; her shadow falling over the funneled recess to the ocean via mechanical plunger.
“****! ****!” she cried waiting for her tummy to tumble as it gurgled and rumbled. She was thinking she wished had some music to blur the sound of her **** tooting raspberries into the echoing white sculpture.