Will They Listen?

“If we’re quite finished here, sir, I’d like to see what has upset Mr. Owl,” Ubermilf said evenly, masking her irritation with Beefheart with a coolly placid demeanor. Owl was a favorite of hers, and Beefheart knew it.

“Good luck with that!” snorted the Captain. “He’s a loony!”

Her heels clicking briskly and efficiently down the smooth surface of the corridor, Ubermilf set off for Owl’s sleep compartment, muttering to herself. While the other crew members saw an easily tormented victim of jokes and pranks, Helga saw a sweet, sensitive man filled with gentle humor and fascinating insight. Her favoritism of him only drew more abuse to him, however; with so little female attention to go around, the crew was bound to feel jealous from time to time.

“Owl?” she tapped on his door. “Sweetie? It’s Helga.” The sole answer she received was a low moan from inside the cabin. She activated the door with her master (in this case, mistress) key card.

She found Owl on his bed, knees tucked into his chest, clutching a pillow and rocking back and forth.

“Owlet?” She said, using her pet name for him, “What happened?”

When she still received no verbal answer, she sat on the edge of the bed and started stroking his hair.

Finally, his eyes focused on her face. “It was… Evil!”

“What was evil, sweetie?” she asked softly, still stroking his forehead.

“It! I can’t explain it… I saw it, and felt it, and knew what it was all at once! It was in the C deck corridor!” he started to shake.

“Owlet,” Ubermilf began, cautiously, “Did you…”

“Take my medication! Yes! I know what I saw, Helga!” he said, his voice rising. “We have to get the crew together and talk about what we’re going to do about it!”

“Darling,” she said, patting his hand, “before we can decide what to do, we have to know what it is.”

“Well, we’ll discuss that, too. Come on, we don’t have much time!”

Owl leapt off his bed and raced out the door. Ubermilf, her brow knitted, followed reluctantly behind him.

She heard him pounding on Beefheart’s door. “Captain! Open up! This is an emergency! Captain!”

“Maybe he’s not in there, Owl,” Helga soothed. “Let’s call the crew ourselves.”

She didn’t want Owl to punch Beefheart’s face in again, like he did after the Captain mocked him three years ago for losing at darts to Piebeard.

Helga took the intercom and announced, “Attention all crew members. There will be a full-crew emergency meeting to be held in the galley at 09:00.” She glanced at Owl, knowing how upset he would be if no one showed. “Refreshments will be served. I made brownies.”

The irresistible draw of Ubermilf’s famous fudge brownies brought a full house to the galley.

While their mouths were full of warm, chocolate goo, Ubermilf commenced the meeting.

“Gentlemen,” she began. “I have a serious issue to put before you this morning. An intruder has breeched our vessel.”

A worried murmur started up from the crew. “Is it White Boy Bob?” wailed one voice.

“No, it’s not White Boy Bob,” Ubermilf said, raising a calming hand. “Spirit of Owl will now fill you in with the details.”

A groan went up. “What is it this time, a floating headless dog?” called out one snide voice. “No,” laughed another pirate, “Those tiny garden gnomes he used to lead into battle every Sunday!” “No, wait, it’s…”

“That’s enough!” cried an annoyed Beefheart, silencing the rowdy lowlifes, as a red-faced Owl was balling up his fists in rage.

“Now, Ubermilf,” the Captain condescendingly started. “We all know you like to coddle the biggest foul-ups and numbskulls on this ship…” Pereira gave an irritated “Humph!” at that … “But really. We have work to do, and this…”

“Is only the greatest threat we have ever faced!” snarled Owl, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Not again,” groaned Piebeard, putting his head down on the table.