Polly and the kiwis weren’t the only ones on The Birbalinda. Somehow, this strange young soul who looked like a baguette personified had found his way onto the ship and was looking at them with utmost displeasure.
“In need of repairs, ain’t she,” he asked, looking around.
“Sure is,” replied Polly. “Do you know where we could get that done?”
“Look no further. I go way back with the fish of Twelfth, so when they rang me up tellin’ me there was a crew in need of some help, I told ‘em of course. They did teleport me onto this ship though, I’ll add, otherwise you could have given me 525,600 minutes and I’d still be searching.”
“Oh well that’s swell. Do we just leave everything to you?”
“That’s right.” The lad surveyed the ship yet again, the frown on his face etching itself deeper into his
