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1. It was a Friday night inside my boat shed.

2.

1. I was drinking a Franklin stout by myself, looking at the closest thing to a woman in my life. Her name was Cauleen, and I love her. She isn't the fastest trackster on the course. No, she was too fat and wide hipped. But she's taken on impossible odds. Like sixty foot waves. Hundred mile winds. Even Somali pirates.

4.

1. Alright no Somalis. Ethiopian Coastguard. But dealing with them drunk is a feat in itself.

6.

1. Cauleen's taken care of me, and I've done my best in return.

8.

1. I plan on taking her on a grand odyssey. Stop at the Arran isles, or Galloway, then Cornwall, and finally, London. Plundering pubs every stop, I'm drunk just thinking about it. Oh and the women I would meet on the way...

10.

1. Hmm. Women. As if a boat wasn't a big enough money sink. I resent being a drifter but I wouldn't be happy married and settled down. Not now. Not when there are plenty of seaside pubs and bars to smash. I can already taste the same brand of rum in an infinite amount of glasses in various states of cleanliness.

12.

1. A cold breeze tugged at my collar as I stepped outside. The air was frigid enough to turn my breath to smoke. I hate Massachusetts winters. It's because of them I rarely come home. But for Cauleen I'd weather the cold, until she's back to ship shape.

14.

1. Far off in the distance, I could hear the beeping of cars as they performed the ballet that was Boston roadworks. A foghorn sounded from the west, a Mearsk liner heading towards Malden. I had a chance to work on one of those. But fuck I'm not going to a boot camp not to be a captain.

16.

1. No sir-eee. I am the captain of my own ship. And SUV.

18.

1. That's when I notice a man leaning against my SUV.

20.

1. He was rolling up a cigarette as I approached. Big bushy eyebrows twirling up and down as he worked the burning paper. What a stupid caricature. What could he possibly-

22.

1. "Hands in the air, fucker."

24.

1. I stopped walking. My hands were up, and soon my pockets were being violated by his foreign appendages. He pulled out my wallet, scrutinized the fact I lacked cash or credit cards, and then guffawed.

26.

1. "No keys?" He uttered, his breath smelling of cheap whiskey.

28.

1. I shrugged. Left them in my shop. If I'm locked out, so are you Ronald McDonald.

30.

1. "Alright, turn around" The pistol nudged to the left.

32.

1. I did so. The lantern over my shop was still a lit, casting a red light across the dark alley. Old newspapers and tin cans seemed to glow under this luminescence, like meats under a deli light. Somewhere, a rat squeaked, enjoying the best that life could offer it.

34.

1. Fuck. The wharf rats. I hope whoever finds my body has enough to bury.

36.

1. "Sorry."

38.

1. CRACK.

40.

1. ***U***

42.

1. Anger.

44.

1. Pure, unfiltered rage is all I feel.

46.

1. Then, confusion. How can I feel anger when I am dead? Are souls real, and do they go to heaven after death? Was heaven just me, alone, with all my thoughts?

48.

1. No answer. A groggy feeling amidst darkness. Like I was on the edge of waking up.

50.

1. Waking up. Waking. Awake.

52.

1. Light. Foggy and yellow, but light non the less.

54.

1. Uncomfortable. My cheek pressed against stone, the rest of my body spread eagle. It wasn't the same sidewalk that I had been shot on, too unorganized. The sidewalks around my workshop, although old, were well-aligned grey brick. This was a bunch of random rocks cajoined together for some semblance of a solid foundation. Smelled like ass too. At least the old streets in Boston had street sweepers.

56.

1. I got on my knees, my joints cracking. In front of me, the fog cleared with a breeze, revealing the black metallic body of a gas light lamp. Behind that, a brick wall stained with who knows what. The entire area seemed out of downtown Boston.

58.

1. And yet when I turned around I realized it wasn't.

60.

1. The sign was roughly ten meters in length and six in height. Its edges carved to slightly recede from the main face, like the frames of pieces at the Louvre. Some bastardization of Cyrillic and Chinese occupied half of it. The rest was a cartoon of a sheep sipping from what was a pewter mug.

62.

1. I'm in Dublin. This is just some hangover induced hallucination. I've probably seen advertisements like this all the time taking the backways. It's just all a dream.

64.

1. I check the pockets of my coat. Fucker kept my wallet but didn't touch my phone.

66.

1. The time was 10:30. The moon was right over my head, a soft blur through the clouds. The time might be wrong but I didn't have a chance to fix it; As soon as I checked, the battery died.

68.

1. I gave the billboard a once over. Noticing the sheep was pointing westwards down the road, I decided to track that way. Puddles splashed underneath as I walked, soaking the bottom of my khakis. All this plus the mange from working on Cauleen makes me want a shower.

70.

1. Cauleen!

72.

1. Oh god, I got to get back home!

74.

1. I start jogging, following the cobblestone road until I came across an intersection. Four lights, A single figure underneath the one in front of me.

76.

1. He had long, white matted hair in a pony tail, which brushed away from the black iron of the light pole with every breeze. His clothing was modest; some khaki overalls and a stained t-shirt. I couldn't see his arms, and his head was down. Though it might've been something upwind, there was a stench stinging my nostrils. Like a celery garden I picked working for a church once.

78.

1. I stopped about ten meters away. How do I go about this? "Hey, I was just shot in the head and woke up here with a dead phone. Can you spare a charger?" I wouldn't trust a person who says they've just been shot with my phone charger, especially this late.

80.

1. Hooves clopped in the distance. Two women in dresses, a brown and a minty green, bobbed down the street. With an umbrella unfurled and pointed my way, they couldn't see me, and I couldn't see them. For all I knew, they rode little horses under their dresses. They paid no mind to me or the man in front who had straightened his back and lifted his head.

82.

1. Two leather straps on either side of his face came out from under his flat cap. He didn't noticed me, choosing to follow the "ladies" as they walked by, hand in his pocket.

84.

1. I glazed over the strange anatomy and focused on this man's stride towards those two ladies.

86.

1. I've seen this dance before. In movies, yes, but I've seen it before.

88.

1. Cauleen would have to wait.

90.

1. Keeping a good five or six yards behind the man, I walked as the dresses waved in the breeze. A wind chime sang somewhere nearby.

92.

1. He began to close the distance, not increasing his pace but rather his stride. He must've been a tall bastard hunched over, cuss he could cover six of my steps in two footfalls. By the time the knife was out from his over-alls I was fifteen feet too late.

94.

1. There was a high pitched bleat, like someone had half-assed a spring-lamb slaughter. The umbrella was on the ground, rolling on the wet cobblestones. Their hands were up, arms a light pink and covered in white.

96.

1. He saw me. The man took two steps back, putting a brick wall to his tail, and pointed the dagger at me. It was then that I came face to face with the devil himself.

98.

1. A goat. A goat with a ponytail and eyes that were human, but goat non the less.

100.

1. The other two were similar, but their faces seemed to be more rounded. And their hair! Like a woolen mullet continuing as a rug running down their shoulders.

102.

1. I don't know what scared me more. The fact it was the face of a goat staring at me, or the noise it was making in response. This was a solid croak, coming straight from the gullet, only silenced by my right fist.

104.

1. The knife clanged against the stones, dulled by the thump of the unconscious goat man on top of it. I looked at the girls. The mint dress no longer stood in front of me, bent over the umbrella as it rippled in a street puddle. Brown dress was to my right watching as I held down the robber. I didn't know what to do with the fool, but I'd rather deal with an unconscious goat man than a conscious goat woman.

106.

1. I felt a tap on my left shoulder and i looked into a long, white-with-brown-speckled fur covered face. Immediately it retracted the hand and covered its mouth, as if "she" were from some of my father's 50s horror flicks. It must be weird seeing muzzle faces all your life and then seeing the relatively-flat one that is mine.

108.

1. "Firgive Vus." the brown one said to me. She turned to her companion, who fiddled with the wet umbrella.

110.

1. "Vrildin, Vus? Chimeri halaht vara nam!" The way brown dress spoke gave me the impression that she was the boss, despite being shorter.

112.

1. "Firgive hev Gouen, min din konungdum." Her companion looked over her shoulder at us, lips pressed in a frown.

114.

1. "Sindara konungdum! Min cumma..." brown dress placed her fingers, tipped with cubes of caratin, on my nose and rubbed it. This was becoming more uncomfortable than what I'm used to.

116.

1. "Eg hev ert du?" she said as slow as possible as she pulled her hand away.

118.

1. I couldn't make heads or tails of what she was trying to say. I considered speaking but all the stress left me tired. I sighed and pressed my knee against the robber's shoulderblade , using my belt to handcuff him.

120.

1. Brown dress stepped back and walked to green dress. They whispered back and forth, stopping only to look back at me.

122.

1. I'd kill to understand what they were saying. Is a constable coming? Can I get back to my ship? Can you point me in the direction of Boston?

124.

1. Brown dress walked over and grabbed. I looked at her grip, the warmth of her palms different from the cold of her finger tips, and than into her eyes. I saw determination. To do what though, I could only guess.

126.

1. "Eg Hedi Gouentine Broyne." she said, straightening her back and brushing the underside of her chin.

128.

1. Was she introducing herself or telling me to fuck off?

130.

1. She repeated the phrase while doing the same hand motion. "Eg hedi Gouentine. Eg hedi Gouentine".

132.

1. "Gouentine?" I mumbled.

134.

1. That must be her first name, because her face lit up. Then the sheep woman pointed at her friend.

136.

1. "Og hedi Chimeri Mchouylle." Chimeri, hearing her name, waved and then went back to staring at the sky.

138.

1. Goutentine started walking towards the way she came, pulling my arm. When she noticed I wasn't walking with her, she gave me a sharp tug.

140.

1. I pointed at the robber. He stirred as I pressed my boot against his back.

142.

1. She scoffed-rolling her eyes as if she wasn't just in danger- and exchanged some words with Chimeri. Chimeri, whose face was without freckles unlike Goutentine, looked ready to go.

144.

1. Alright fine. I guess we'll forget about filing a police report.

146.

1. For safety's sake I looked around. Finding no rope laying arbout I noticed a wooden bin across the street. I lugged the robber onto my shoulder, and making sure to get my belt back, shoved him into the trash bin.

148.

1. Heh. Taking out the trash.

150.

1. I turned back to the goat girls, and the noticed only Goutentine remained. She held out her hand, an annoyed look on her face that was cute.

152.

1. Well Cauleen, it's late. No point in looking for you now. Hopefully this sheep girl will take me somewhere safe.

154.

1. I grabbed her hand into my own. With a tug that disfigured my shoulder Goutentine pulled me west, in the direction she had come from.