@100wednesday drabble - Our Flag Means Death
“Who stole my oranges??”
The crew looked over from their duties, Roach angrily bobbing up through the floorboards from below. A raving jack-in-the-box who thankfully needed both hands to steady his climb, leaving his kitchen knife safely unweilded.
“Should we get more from Nana?” Oluwande asked.
Jim rolled their eyes. “...how the fucking seagull found her with that note...”
“Brilliant creatures,” Buttons muttered. “Two day shipping.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Stede insisted. “Surely it’s an innocent mistake.”
“It’s made of oranges?” Ed asked, spreading the mask on his face. “I’ll fucking glow.”
“Like the sun,” Stede swooned.