Scurvy Goonda by Chris McCoy

somebody’s nose chopped off and fastened to her skull.
    But then, of course, I would have to have somebody else’s face removed to go ALONG with the nose
, thought Persephone.
A lone nose simply wouldn’t do. And THEN I’d have to have somebody’s scalp removed to go with that face, and I’d have to start thinking about what kind of hair would be prettiest with the body, and if
    I’m going to do that, I might as well just get a whole skin SUIT to fit me properly
.
    Persephone really wanted to look good. For Scurvy.
    She took another stroll by her window, prompting hurrahs from her fans below, which cheered her up. Her eternal pirate love would be here soon enough, and if he resisted—well, if he resisted, she would have him killed and stuffed and placed above her mantel, which might be almost as satisfying as having him alive and all to herself. Either way, Scurvy
would
be hers. Forever.

II
    Ted could feel his brain floating around in his head, bonking against the inside of his skull. He could also feel the heat of a campfire, on the other side of which sat the vampire who had assaulted him. He checked his neck for holes.
    “Not to worry,” said the vampire. “You’re not my blood type. I’m forever an O-positive guy, and you’re an AB-negative. Much too bitter for my taste.”
    Ted pushed himself to a sitting position. He’d been lying in the dirt, and he could taste leaves in his mouth.
    “Apologies,” said a different voice. “We bet on how many leaves we would be able to cram in your mouth.”
    “Perhaps you would like to introduce yourself to our humble roundtable?” the vampire suggested.
    “My name is Ted,” said Ted.
    There were murmurs from the group, and money changed hands, most of which was going to the vampire.
    “I said that you look just like a Ted,” said the vampire. “But my companions bet that you must be a Gustafson or a Zhang.”
    “Zhang?”
    “They’re not terribly good wagerers, but you’ll soon learn that for yourself,” said the vampire.
    “Not much elssse to do at night assside from talking andbetting,” boomed another voice, whose owner sounded like he was sucking in water and spit as he spoke.
    Ted looked at his own feet and saw that he was barefoot.
    “What the—” he said, his reaction sending a ripple of laughter through the group. More money changed hands.
    “We also bet on how long it would take for you to discover that we threw your shoes into the fire,” the vampire explained.
    “Why would you do that?” said Ted.
    “Because you insisted on staying unconscious,” said the vampire.
    “You
knocked
me unconscious! Who are you, anyway?”
    “I knocked you out only to make sure you came along, but we’ll get to that in a moment,” said the vampire. “As for your question, may I first refer you to the well-sculpted gentleman?”
    “Sculpted?”
    “The well-sculpted
Monodon monoceros
to my left—Dr. Narwhal.”
    “Pleasssed to meet you,” said Dr. Narwhal, but Ted was unable to reply, awed as he was by the sheer mass of the Arctic narwhal, who was covered in rolls of fat that spilled over each other and trembled every time Dr. Narwhal moved. In the center of Dr. Narwhal’s head was a ten-foot-long tusk that resembled a javelin. From biology class, Ted somehow remembered that the tusk was actually a long tooth, which no doubt accounted for the narwhal’s difficulty with pronouncing the letter
s
. Hanging around the narwhal’s enormous neck was a stethoscope.
    “And to my right,” continued the vampire, “you’ll see the sensitive artistic genius Vango.”
    “Can I call you Theo? Agh! Itchy! Sorry!” said Vango. HisDutch accent was thick, and he was scratching at the bandage that covered his left ear.
    “But my name is Ted,” said Ted.
    “Like from Theodore? Bats! In my hair!” said Vango.
    “Yes,” said Ted.
    “But that’s so close,” said Vango. “Swirls! In my eyes!”
    “Please just call me Ted.”
    “You’ll find that