Mermaid Pirate Dispatch

“Sebastian, NO!” I bark the words under my breath, hissing and growling as I swing an open palm toward the broad side of his face. He’s hunched over behind Mrs. Edwards, his nose twitching just inches from her caboose.

He whimpers and straightens up, flinching away from my hand. Mrs. Edwards raises her eyebrows and twists her torso to regard him. Sebastian puts on a toothy grin. I note that his sideburns are getting too thick again. It’s time for another shave.

“Well,” Mrs. Edwards continues, “it was truly a pleasure to meet the both of you.” She forces a polite smile and takes a step toward the door.

I rush to open it for her. “Thank you so much for your time. I do hope it won’t be long before our application can be approved. I am really quite excited to begin…”

Mrs. Edwards clears her throat. Her eyes are wide and she is looking disdainfully down her side, past her hip.

“Sebastian!” I screech.

He has straddled her thigh and is thrusting enthusiastically. A cold sweat breaks out over my whole body as I lunge at him, tearing him away from the poor woman.

“My word,” Mrs. Edwards exclaims, gasping indignantly. She shoots a cold glare at me, glances incredulously back at Sebastian, and storms out through our front door into the night.

I slam the door shut and groan loudly, letting month’s worth of pent up frustration rattle my vocal chords. “Sebastian!” I cry. “Why? Why did you have to do that?!”

He cowers, bending his knees to lower himself toward the floor. He looks like he could pee himself. “I’m sorry,” he whines. His eyes are twitching and he’s hiding behind a raised arm.

I tense up, ready to unleash hot fury on him, but then I sigh and lean back on the door, sliding down to the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “I know,” I sigh. “I know. And you were sorry last time, and the time before that. I swear Sebastian, every time you do this I think about getting you neutered. I really do.”

He winces and scrunches up his nose. “Please,” he begins. “I…”

“I know,” I say. “It’s OK. I wouldn’t. But if we’re going to have kids without passing on your genes, adoption is the only way to do it.” I pause and lock eyes with him. “And I really do want kids,” I remind him.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want that for us too.”

Tentatively he shuffles over to me, keeping low and submissive. I extend an arm, welcoming him, and suddenly he’s snuggling deep into my armpit and nuzzling my neck. It feels nice. I take a slow, deep breath and stroke his thick head of hair, leaning on him and letting his scent fill my nostrils. It’s an earthy, comfortable odor that makes me feel a certain kind of nostalgia for the days when I would go camping with my family.

“This is nice,” he says.

I hum my agreement and settle my head on his, closing my eyes. It’s not his fault that so many of these visits have taken place on or around the full moon cycle. After a long moment of reflection, I say, “what if…” but I let my voice trail off.

I feel him gasp softly, then let it out. “Well,” he begins. “I mean…”

“Do you think?”

He clenches his shoulders in a shrug. “It wouldn’t be easy,” he says, his voice full of trepidation and concern.

“It would be easier than dealing with another Mrs. Edwards,” I say.

He chuckles. “I suppose it would.”

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