CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

"Lower the sails, shutter the cannons and drop anchor, ye scurvy dogs!"
The pirate ship stopped in the river.
"We're here."
The pirates scuttled off the boat. Some by rope ladder, some on lifeboats and some just tumbling over the side. The pirates were pretty frickin' pumped to be off the dumb boat.
They immediately busted out some bungs of liquor and also into some of each other's bungs in some consensual, celebratory sodomy.
"All right, all right, all right," said their leader Rumpbeard, shortly after his ecstasy. "That's enough. Let's get a move on."
At this point, the river nymph stepped forward. These guys were interesting.
"Hey, I'm the river nymph," she said by way of introduction. "You boys seem like you really know how to party."
Rumpbeard agreed that they knew how to have a good time but he also wasn't super into sharing his booze.
"So," began the Nymph, "What brings you guys to Hormonetown?"
Rumpbeard was relieved he wouldn't have to share.
"We're looking for a man most peculiar," said Rumpbeard, "Most peculiar indeed."
The Nymph raised an eyebrow. Intriguing! So much better than the soul searchers.
"Go on," she said, "Perhaps I can be of assistance."
"He's said to be handsome. Young seeming, but actually quite old. He's smart, aye, but he's arrogant too. Ring any bells?"
The Nymph yawned. She was over the pirate thing. "This man have a name?"
"Mooseknuckles," Rumpbeard rasped, "Jonathan."
"What are you, a ringwraith?"
Rumpbeard said nothing. He hadn't seen the Lord of the Rings trilogy.
"Yeah," sighed the Nymph, "I know the guy. He was doing some shitty soul searching on my river the other day. Head in town."
"Thanks, m'lady," said Rumpbeard. He felt she'd earned some rum and offered her a small bottle. It was a big act for the pirate.
"I'm a river. I don't really need to get drunk."
"Oh, good. I'll just keep this then."
There was an awkward moment.
The Nymph coughed.
The pirates shuffled their feet a little.
"Well."
"Goodbye."
The pirates lumbered off, the land rumbling under their feet.
That's what happens when a herd of pirate-dinosaurs moves all at once.
Rumpbeard was a t-rex.

CHAPTER NINE

It's later now. The next day, probably. And with different characters. In a different place.
"I'm so much like this river," she said, hands in pockets. Looking out over a river.
"Always the same. But also always changing."
The river was beautiful. A serene spot for an angsty teenager to come and consider her feelings and things and also swat bugs. That las part wasn't a draw, really, but tended to happen out of necessity.
"If there's a perfect metaphor for the things I'm going through as a teenager, it's this river," she said, "And if it's not this river," she went on, "It's that I'm a werewolf. Ugh! I'm always dealing with things. Oh, river, if only you could hear me, you'd understand."
"Bullshit!" said someone who we didn't know was there yet.
"Who said that?!" shouted the werewolf, "I didn't know someone else was here yet!"
"It's me," said a beautiful woman dressed in a flowy blue gown. She had deep blue eyes and a blue tinge to her hair. Blue sandals on her feet. Long lacy blue gloves on her hands.
She was really committed to the whole "blue" thing.
"Who are you?" asked the werewolf.
"I'm the river nymph. This river is essentially an extension of me and vice versa.
"Hence the blue," she explained.
"Hence the blue," said the now-awed werewolf.

Awed as in astonished. Not odd as in strange. She'd always felt a little of odd. Out of place. Like she didn't quite fit in in regular-
"I'm gonna stop you right there," the river interrupted the narrator's kinda messy joke.
"Huh?" said the werewolf.
"You need to stop. You're not special," said the river to the werewolf's face.
"Excuse me?! I'm a were-"
"I don't care. For millennia I've been here and literally every single fucking person who has come to this god damn river has felt lost, out of place. Different."
"Oh. It sounds sad."
"No, it's exhausting. And stupid."
"Oh, but I'm not stupid. I'm a totally unique-"
"Fourteen," interrupted the river again. She's awfully interrupty.
"What?"
"Fourteen fucking teen werewolves have stood exactly where you're standing."
"Oh, I-"
"And that's just this decade. I've also seen ten vampires, three lizard people and once, the Loch Ness Monster. Not to mention the drifters, ex-cons, soul searchers and artists - don't get me fucking started on the fucking artists."
"You sure swear a lot," observed the werewolf.
"God damn fucking right I do. I'm a fucking river. What're you gonna fucking do? Stop drinking my damn water?"
"None of this is really helping me."
"It's not supposed to. I do not care about you at all."
"Geez! What if I just kill myself?!"
"I hope you do. There's a whole river in front of you. Jump in and drown. I'll flush your shitty corpse into the sea. Then you're Poseidon's problem."
Nothing from the werewolf.
"That's what I thought," the river said, spitting at the werewolf's feet. "Now don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Oh, dip! School!" The werewolf ran off.
"Pussy," the river said, merging again with the water.