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Post by Ragetti on Aug 17, 2006 3:19:10 GMT -5
Bleedin' Bugger! Bleedin' Fuckin' Bugger! Bleeding Fuckin' BUGGER! IT WAS ITCHIN'!!!
Bony shoulders were rolled in a frantic manner and the sound of the rodent's back bone grinding against the hard wood post could be heard quite a few cabins inward. While Ragetti had plenty long enough arms to reach his own back to scratch; his nails - hardly nails as they was - were far to dull and worn from ship work and rope pulling to do any good.
Oh he'd tried them at first; when the itch attack had started. Hiding from the usually chores in the deep belly where the nest he shared with his feline companion was; Ragetti had sprawled out on the torn sails with a tattered and leaf eared book. He couldn't read a word of it; but it had pictures of sea creatures and other interesting ocean things. He'd stolen it at the last port docking. He'd been belly down tracing a mermaid's fin when his back had given a sharp TWING and the itching had begun!
At first he'd tried his blunt nails; and when that didn't work he'd resorted to using the book itself - and when THAT didn't help there was a three minute roll on the dusty floor and he'd even tried to crane his neck in an impossible angle to try and bite confounding tormented itch. So when everything else had failed him - Rags finally shoved himself against the wooden posts and begun wiggling and writhing for all his worth.
And in all this scratching, tail flickering, moaning he was doing; he'd even lost his eye. But for once, the Rat couldn't be ARSED about the damn item. If he didn't make his poor back stop itching he was going to go screaming up to the deck and toss himself into the ocean!
BLOODY FUCKING BUGGER!
Which was probably exactly what it was.
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Post by Pintel on Aug 17, 2006 4:02:01 GMT -5
The rat's spine was like a washboard, and running anything along it sometimes let out sounds that would remind one of an old xylophone. That was the noise that greeted a few of the Black Pearl's crew members as they had worked below deck; be it pumping water from the depths below or just washing out rooms. There was always work on a ship.
Pintel was finally given leave of his current job, that being trying to catch Jack the monkey from where he'd clambered to the very top of the mast above the crow's nest. He had been feeling especially tricky today and had managed to steal the hat off of the other Jack's head. Jack (the captain, not the monkey) had swore and shot at the beast, but when that didn't work he had sent the only cat on board up the mast.
Grumbling, Pintel had left his boots below and had clambered the mast and had fought against the little monkey for the hat. Finally managing to grab him by his tail, and had to set the hat atop his own head before climbing back down. Jack was given a thorough tongue lashing by Jack (the captain) at least until Barbossa came along and told him the lad was only playing; so let him be.
The cat had pulled his boots back on and had escaped below deck, grumbling about not being a nanny to that little rat of a monkey. It was here his train of thought was derailed as he heard a sound, which caused both ears (which at the moment were slant back in his usual 'piss off' gesture) to perk forward.
He knew that sound.
Peering his head around the doorframe he didn't expect to see what he did. Ragetti running his stick of a spine against a wooden post. "Wot tha bloody 'ell are you doin?" He asked, walking into the room but pausing when he worked it out for himself. "Oh. Itch. I see." Pintel grinned slightly, walking up to the rat and putting his hands behind his back. "In tha' tricky spot again?" This wasn't the first time Ragetti got an itch that just wouldn't go away, PLUS it was in a difficult to reach place.
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Post by Ragetti on Aug 17, 2006 4:14:54 GMT -5
RRRCHHH! RCCHHHHH! RCCHHHHHH!
While the scratching did nothing to console the frightful itch - it did feel fairly good. Enough so that the rodent's tongue was half lured out of his mouth and both his eyes were rolling in odd directions. But as good as a scratching could be - the rodent couldn't quite enjoy it with at certain spot slacken in being satisfied.
"Fuckin' buggery it itches, Pinters!" The lad greeted the cat as Pintel mossed his booted paws into the nest. By this time Rags had all but shoved his red shirt all the way up to his shoulder blades in his writhing. Some would have just wondered why the hell he ever bothered with his top clothes - he was always managing to twist the faded sun bleached item 'round his skeleton like torso; getting it caught on nails and splintering boards.
The rodent liked his shirt tho; haven stolen it off a Nobel long ago when his whelp clothes had grown too tight and small. It just wasn't the best shirt for his line of work. Honestly he could have used new ones. Shirt was up; britches were in danger of falling off his bony sharp hips - but still Ragetti keep shoving his spine into the wood.
He scooted himself 'round the wooden post, dragging his back along with it and gave Pintel a helpless; irritated look. Right eye was squeezed shut and his left all but oozed the torment he was in.
"Dun jus' stand 'n' stare at me, ye bleedin' furball! Scratch me back or Sumfin!" It was a little brash for Ragetti to order the Feline like that. But he was in dire need, and if he kept this up; he was going to be furless on his back. Already little bits of dirty tan fur were sticking out of the black wood of the Pearl's belly.
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Post by Pintel on Aug 17, 2006 4:22:54 GMT -5
Pintel cocked an ear and an eyebrow at Ragetti's plight, and his order. Bleein' furball? Oh now that was out right rude. He sniffed his nose into the air in the usual way cats did at food they didn't feel was up to their expectations. Or everything in life, really.
"Huh, I dunno mates. Rats wif tongues like tha' shoul' be cut out. Not 'ave their backs scratched." He scoffed; tail flicking into an upright position behind his back as he folded his arms. Of course, in the past when Ragetti would get an itch he couldn't scratch Pintel was normally too arsed to put his pride in the way, pop out one of his blackened claws and itch the spot until Ragetti was all but drooling and withering in bliss.
He unfolded one arm and brought his paw up to his face, flexing muscles only cats knew how to flex, one of his black claws protruded from his pointer. Not ten minutes ago it had scaled the mast after that bloody monkey, and it needed some tending to. He could scratch the very post Ragetti was scratching himself against. Ooh, nice.
Pintel brought his hand forward, but put it to a rest just besides Ragetti's ear and dragged the claw downwards against the post. The air was filled with the high pitched screech of nail against wood and once he brought it down far enough; he put it right back to where he started and dragged it once again. Four times he did this until he brought his paw back to his face to inspect his claws. "Ah. Better."
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Post by Ragetti on Aug 17, 2006 4:35:56 GMT -5
Ah, he really didn't mean to be so quick with his tongue - he usually did watch the insults around the old feline. Why insult the only creature that seemed to be on your side anyhow? It was just this fucking itch! It was driving him crazy and sucking his wits (how ever few he had) out of his head.
He was happy to see Pintel unleash a claw out, and was already starting to flip himself around when he realized that wonderful sharp instrument of scratchiness wasn't HEADING for his needy spot. But instead became an ear-splinting new torment right next to his big round ears.
Ragetti all but twitched in place, every inch of tan fur on his body puffing to the noise. His tail straighted up and out and quivered at the tip. Each added drag of the nose almost painful enough to forget how much his back was itching and turn his attention to lose of hearing.
Almost, mind you. But not quite.
"PIIIIIIINT!" The rodent whined as the feline stood there inspecting his claw. "YE BLEE-" He caught himself in the second insult. No that hadn't worked before. Instead the rat surged forward pathetically. There was only about a foot or so to close between them anyhow. Ragetti clutched his bony paws into Pintel's blue jacket and fell into the felines soft chest. He literally went down to his knobby knees and tucked his face just above the cat's stomach. Now whithering needly against the other - the rat upped his whining.
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeease, Pinters? Ah'm sorry fer whatever.. Scratch me back! Ah'll give ye me rum ration fer a week! Ah'll do yer swabbin tomorrah, Anythin' Jus' ITCH IT!"
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Post by Pintel on Aug 17, 2006 4:45:03 GMT -5
Might I add the joy it had brought Pintel, seeing Ragetti already spinning himself around in hopes of receiving a good old scratch of the tomcat's claw? He had grinned evilly with every drag of his claw, watching his friend's (or victim, today at least) reaction. Oh, really. Pintel could be so down right cruel, but you know what they say. You torment the ones you love.
When he had heard the incoming insult his ears had folded flat against his head, almost daring him to finish the sentence but luckily the rat caught on alone. He closed his paw in on itself and was about to say "No" just because he could when the rat had suddenly launched himself at him. His naked paws clutching at his jacket and how he fell against him, practically shaking and withering because of the itch that still haunted his back.
But wait on a second. Rum rations for a week says you? All of his swabbing, or anything? Oooh, interesting bargain Ragetti. It certainly got Pintel's ears back up, along with his eyebrows and tail. He had to chuckle either way, "All right lad, ye convinced me." He purred so deeply Ragetti could probably feel his ribcage vibrating what with his head right near it.
Thus he bent himself forward only slightly, reached the same paw around with not one but now two of his claws protruding and began scratching at where he guessed the spot was. "Here?" He asked, working his claws against the flesh and bone.
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Post by Ragetti on Aug 17, 2006 4:57:48 GMT -5
Yes, ANYTHING! He'd fucking lick Pintel's boots spit-shine with his tongue at this point as long as that buggering of an itch was put to it's death! If Pintel had said no; the rodent might of climbed him like he'd done to the mast earlier just to get over him to find someone that WOULD scratch his back. And going around offering ANYTHING to lot of seedy animals on this ship wouldn't have been a good thing. Thank god for Pintel - at least mostly. If he had to do anything; might as well be for the feline.
"TA! TA! TA!" The Rat rejoiced when the feline finally cracked and gave in to becoming Ragetti's personal back scratcher. The rodent's shirt was already up at his shoulders and that long bony back was exposed. Every vertebra sticking out down to where his tail jutted above his hipbones. Rags down more on his hutches, arching his back up toward Pintel's claw as he pressed his forehead into the felines stomach. He bit his own bottom lip when he felt the first scrrrrrrrrrrrraaaatch between fur and skin.
"Naaay..." He wiggled against that black sharp claw. "To th'left! Leeeft... noo....udder way, my left!" It took a moment; but Pintel's claw FINALLY found that one spot, and Rags actually squeaked and clutched tighter when he did. "AYE 'ERE!"
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Post by Pintel on Aug 17, 2006 5:05:38 GMT -5
Offering 'anything' to pirates was indeed a risqué business. Even if you yourself was one. Debts can be paid in ways other then money and chores being done. It's a very good thing for the rat he hadn't gone clamouring for someone else, especially when offering anything. And if worse turned to worse you already know who'd come hissing and spitting and scratching claws to his rescue if things had taken said turn for the worst. So by accepting now, Pintel probably saved himself a lot of bother later on down the track.
But Pintel never thought of the future.
"Bloody 'ell ye should know yer left from yer right!" Pintel had hissed at Ragetti's pathetic directions. But finally he seemed to have located the right spot, given Ragetti had squeaked a squeak of utter delight and pulled his jacket ever closer in his paws. Plus his forehead was rubbing against Pintel the same way feline whores would rub up against your sides. Pintel had a small smirk of satisfaction on his face as he continued to scratch the spot, digging his claws against the more bone then flesh.
Really, Ragetti was so scrawny it seemed like he had taken a patch of flesh and fur and had stretched it as far as he could over his skeleton. Next to no fat on him at all. It was just like scratching the wooden post, only a bit more soft given this was a body and not hardwood. But he wasn't scratching too badly, he wanted to cure Ragetti of his itch, not break his skin and cause him to bleed.
At least this time.
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Post by Ragetti on Aug 17, 2006 5:17:14 GMT -5
Mmph, indeed. Push to shove - he could have always squeaked as loud as he could for Pintel. Not that Rags couldn't take care of himself - but up against a monster like the Bo'sun or someone smarter; his blind side was a terrible disadvantage. Landlubbers he could handle - pirates who already knew his every weakness - he fared worse against. But none of that mattered at the moment.
Ragetti was in heaven getting his fucking back scratched! Now that Pintel's claws where in the right spot; it was all the rodent could do not to ball over and start curling on the floor; arching up into it. So he just kept his face in Pintel's stomach and continued to squeak and even murr out "Ooohhh oohhhhh ohhhhhh! S'spot. Ta! S'good s'was so itchy! Taaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Shoulders jerking up with each drag of the felines claws. Hard enough to almost hurt; but feeling too damn good on that itch. Had Pintel draw blood - he might not have even noticed.
Hell it didn't even itch anymore - After ten or fifteen crosses of Pintel's claws a tiny little black dot went jumping for it's life and disappeared into the nest; but Ragetti made no voice to get the cat to stop clawing. He was enjoying it too much. Whip like tail twitched and his blunt claws dug into the floor under his long legs.
It felt so good his single eye had rolled up into his skull and he was actually drooling into Pintel's navel.
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Post by Pintel on Aug 17, 2006 5:29:53 GMT -5
Ah so the flea had abandoned ship. It was clever, very rare did fleas manage to survive more then a few scratches from Pintel's claws if he knew exactly where they were. Sure now and then a flea could get away with it, but more often then not Pintel's claws became the resting place of many a flea who tried stowing away on the greying tabby. But he didn't know a flea had caused it, or that said flea had jumped the rat, so he continued scratching with those two claws.
It was then he realised he had drool on his stomach. And naval. He made a face at the feeling at first, looking down at Ragetti's head still pushing against his stomach. He knew the rat was thankful and all, but man this was pushing it just a tad. His free paw (which all this time had been hanging limply at his side brought itself forward and cupped the rat's face in it and lifted his head and grinned down at him. "Ya mind? I ain't one fer gettin' me stomach wet." But as he stated this, his thumb had begun gently brushing at Ragetti's cheek; smoothing out the fur that had been scuffed up due to the rat's thrashings about earlier.
His claws were beginning to grow bored of this scratching post and he ran the paw up Ragetti's bumpy spine until it found his red shirt and began tugging it back down over his back. Mostly since you couldn't allow to have any thinly furred body bared in the weather for too long on board a ship. Lung diseases could be caught, and really the last thing Pintel wanted was a sick rat on his paws. For one he wouldn't have the faintest clue what to do, and that would cause him to worry. And worrying meant he'd show he cared. So he covered all this by just tugging the shirt down before putting his claws back to work again.
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Post by Ragetti on Aug 17, 2006 5:39:54 GMT -5
Ragetti never fared well when he got sick - which thankfully - was very rare. Despite his skeletoness - he managed not to be dead from tuberculosis or some other form of horrible upper respiratory disease yet. There was always a first time (Sadly that would probably be the first and only time.)
He hadn't realized he'd been drooling. His head was lured; eyes closed (or rolled away, his fake one was still slowly rolling back and forth across the floor due to the light pitching of the ship as they sailed) and back enjoying the attention. When the paw landed on his chin and pulled his damp maw out of Pintel's belly; that good eye finally opened and shifted up toward the smiling period.
"Sorry, mate." Rags all but groaned out the words. If he'd known it had been a flea and this was the end result of them - he'd go rub Jack (the monkey that is!) all over his body for a bit just for a repeat performance! His own mouth curled into a smirk as Pintel's thumb traced his cheek.
Spine was dipped a bit to help the shirt roll back down over his lack of flesh. His tail curled up and brushed Pintel's furry fingers before they went back to itchin.
Just a little bit longer. Ragetti sat there enjoying the attention, head still sitting in Pintel's hand like he was thankful old mutt rather then a young rat. "Ah, Pinters.. yer th'best mate O'rat could have... ah owe ye one fer sure..." Ragetti finally pulled back and sat on his hutches. "Fink ye got it."
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Post by Pintel on Aug 17, 2006 5:49:21 GMT -5
Diseases were always a trouble spot for a sailor, even a well weary one such as Pintel. As much as he cared for himself lung wise, he could do little to stop other diseases sneaking into his body. He was surprised he had lasted as long as he did; almost fifty and he hadn’t lost any vital body parts yet! That’s one for the record books make no mistake.
Pintel accepted Ragetti’s groaned apology with a small nod of his head and a gruff ‘hmm’ escape his throat. Gah, it was only Ragetti who could move such sentiment out of the old tomcat. And yes, this is known as ‘sentiment’. At least, for Pintel. He was never one to all but hug another man just because he felt like he should. So getting a cheek rub as well as a back scratch? Ragetti is the luckiest rat on this ship.
When Ragetti pulled away Pintel stopped, and released his hold on his face and drew his paw away and the claws vanished back inside. “Yer welcome Rags.” Pintel smirked, putting his hands to his hips and twirled his tail a bit. “Tho next time I’d still ‘preciate not ta be called a bleedin’ furball or have me stomach drooled on.” He added with a wink and another flip of his tail.
He then folded his arms, glancing up at the beams over head. Now, he had a grand old time thinking of just what Ragetti could do for him in repayment of such a noble deed of selflessness and back scratching. A few ideas danced through the old cat’s mind, which made one of his eyes almost twinkle as an ear flicked. “Hmm.” He mused.
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Post by Ragetti on Aug 17, 2006 6:00:57 GMT -5
"Awww." Ragetti couldn't be too arsed to feel too apologetic at the moment really; he felt too good. But he tried. "Ah said ah was sorry, Pinters... 'n' ta to ye all in'un."
With the scratching over, the rat rocked himself till he just plum fell over back wards on to his spine. Stretching out - he threw his long arms over his head and arched his back right off the floor. There was a long stream of quick soft popping noses as ever joint in that starved frame annouced themselves.
He missed Pintel's pondering flashy look for he was too busy lingering in the afterglow of a good backscratching. Tail twitched between his sprawled legs and he mused in the silence. "Yer much better at scratchin' then any wooden post, that ye are...Betcha even..." Attention was stolen by the sound of something rolling right past Ragetti's head. The rat swiveled his good eye just in time to see his fake one lumbering 'cross the floor.
"Me eye!" But instead of getting up; he just swung his arm round, grabbing at the floor with those long bony naked fingers till he finally found the round item and lazily dragged it back to the empty hole in his head. Ah yes; Ragetti was truly a happy lucky rat at this moment. Hell; he forgot he'd actually offered anything for that scritching he'd gotten.
Pintel would remind him soon, no doubt.
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Post by Pintel on Aug 17, 2006 6:16:04 GMT -5
Pintel continued to stand how he was, his mind still a blur of what he could actually weasel out of the rat. Nothing of monetary value, their last swag had already been divided and spent so there was nothing worth trading there. And whilst he would love Ragetti to do his chores for a whole day, he particularly enjoyed doing them.
But only if Ragetti was there with him, grumbling and complaining with him. At least until Rag’s would sing and dance whilst he was still cleaning. Then Pintel would hit him with the dirty water and tell him to get back to work.
He had glanced down when he had heard Ragetti fetch his rolling eye, and winced at the lovely noise it made once he shoved it back into his eye socket. Pintel watched silently, the same kind of look you would associate a cat that was waiting for a mouse (or rat in this case) to come out of a hole in a wall.
Suddenly Pintel was crouching and put his two paws directly on either side of Ragetti and drew himself down, so he was staring down at the rat. “Well now that that’s all sorted out mate, want to make good on yer offer a’fore?” Pintel asked with a cock of the head, a big grin plastered all over his face.
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Post by Ragetti on Aug 17, 2006 6:28:11 GMT -5
Ragetti didn't mind the chores; even if he never did them to the fullest he could. He right up there on the Bo'sun's shit list about it too - and if one were to think about it; maybe the rat did it on purpose. After all; it was the bull who'd broken his tail the first year he'd been sailing with the Pearl. Tho; it had been for shitty moping and back talking. At least Jack and made good with the code (Ai: None shall bring harm to those aboard.) and had the Bo'sun in the stocks for a week for it. Perhaps he did them halfassed simple because he could. Not because he minded.
Reddish nearly sticky eye socket was rubbed a few times; and out of habit he'd closed his other eye in the process. When his rubbing was done; he opened the good one to find the feline crotched down over him with all the twice-turns of a curling grin on his face. The rat wrinkled his nose and tucked his own arms behind his head. The fake eye rolled in his head with the movement of the ship; but the other settled on the old Cat's maw and didn't waver once.
So long ago. One of his own would have been terrified at the sight. Opening your eyes to find a big male tomcat all but leering at you with a mouth full O'sharp teeth. But Ragetti only lifted his top lip exposing his gnawing teeth and chirped at the feline.
"Ye mean now?" Ragetti wiggled his scrawny hips between those planted paws; tail flickering between his own (and now Pintel's too) legs. "Dun got no rum till tomorrow; what ye be wantin' 'en?"
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