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MERSTORY Ch8 -170


MERSTORY - updated biweekly | only on newtribez.net



 


I am made to climb up to a platform,
fortunately all the work I've done since waking up in this island
had developed my upper body strength to pull myself up with ease.


There I find  a tent made out of stitched broad leaves.
The floor creaks dangerously as I approach.
It wasn't wooden planks, because of course they don't have lumber cutting machines
but rather peeled bark of trees, heated, layered and glued together with resin.
Isn't that almost like plywood anyway?


I am impressed.


Then I am petrified.


Tall, almost bladelike in their thinness,
carrying with them an air of pitiless judgement
Harpy Elder in white bone masks peer out of the gloom.


And then I am asked:


"(Are you a stinking jap?") 


 


I blink. Okay.


I suppose that's period-accurate.


Now how do I prove that I'm not?


Ah.


I put my right hand to my chest and start to belt out


"OH SAY CAN YOU SEE
BY THE DAWN'S EARLY LIGHT


DA DA DAAAH DAH DA DAH
DEE DEE DUM DUM DE DEEH


BY ROCKET'S RED GLAAARE
BE DEE DEE RAH RAAAH HAA


IN THE LAND OF THE FREE
AND THE HOO~OME OF THE BRAAAVE."


... I'm not even American don't sue me.


 


The Elders turn to stare at each other
an ominous silence stretches out...


And as one, they shrug.


"(Ehh close enough.)"


 


 


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Last update on December 28, 11:19 pm by Carlo Marco.
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