Are You A Pirate or A Ninja?

          Krish sat in the corner of the inn’s tavern, sipping watered down, metallic ale that he had no want of. It had just appeared before him, swiftly and without warning, reeking of voluntary acts of human sewage that he didn’t not want to think about. It was in this tavern, sitting alone, in the darkest corner, hidden from sight by the drunkards and morons that dared to call themselves living beings. Living, a temporary term, for which his red-tinted katana had a remedy for.
          It was highly apparent that he didn’t not belong among these peoples of barbaric nature and that if he stayed here a moment longer than he would kill them all. Starting with the fat, gooey man that insisted on bumping up against him with his ass.
          Krish had given the human marshmallow a warning stab with one of his many hidden blades, but sadly, and most revoltingly, it became lost in the many folds of blemished skin. This being the only reason why he has not started his massacre however pleasing and satisfying it would be.
          The katana slid silently from its custom hand-carved sheath, retrieved off the rotting sensei corpse. May the Gods guide his soul into the next life where his blade may have the honor of killing him again, the fucktart.
          As Krish raised the mighty blade of bloody-thirsty power, the tavern’s door flew open along with the woman’s blouse, flashing the entire drunken populace. She brushed back a strand of hair and adjusted the blouse, not very well, over her naked bosom.
          The katana clanked against the floor as Krish gaped at her sheer unbridled sluttiness.
          “Does anyone know where a girl can get a drink around here?” She flashed a witty smile and then flounced in, wide hips swinging, breasts bouncy in sequence.
Chairs were pulled out for her by these now decidedly chivalrous barrel-guzzlers. But she sweetly batted her eyelashes and glided along, plucking coin pouches as she went. A thief, this woman.
          No, worse, thought Krish, eyeing the blue gray blade of her cutlass. Pirate. A damned pirate had dared to entire his realm and steal his potential reward for the slaughter he was about to inflict. Krish inhaled sharply and began to reason with the situation. Just let the little pirate slut collect what she can, then, oh then when he shall being down the massacre he won’t have to deal with digging under dead bodies. This queen of boobs shall have already gathered all the loot. One flick of a shuriken across her throat, and his just rewards will be in proper hands.
          In his dark, little corner, in the dark, little tavern, sat the dark, little ninja, the katana still lying on the floor.
          The more Krish watched this female work her vixen magic, the more he became impressed with her. She wasn’t the dull, unintelligent floozy she had made herself become. Her left hand never left the hilt of her cutlass, and the bags of gold seemed to disappear into thin air, a form of pirate magic he assumed. But in all actuality there was a large, burlap sack at her feet. She hadn’t brought it in with her, so how it got there was a complete and total mystery. She must have stolen that too from one of the men in the tavern.
          A fascinating little creature, with all of her charisma lodged in her breasts. To steal and not waste energy on killing, was a skill that Krish greatly envied. He never wanted to kill, but felt he had no other means of getting what he did want. Like his beloved katana, which he now realized was still on the floor, so quickly scooped it up and slid it into its sheath.
          The sun’s dawning rays trickled through the diamond shaped glass panes next to what used to be the most perfectly dark corner. Now, completely alight and noticeable, Krish made a move to leave. But not before he caught the sea colored eyes of the mystifying pirate.
          “Leaving so soon?” she asked. Krish was no aware that they, despite the thirty some odd drunken men passed out on the floor, were the only ones left in the tavern. Over her shoulder, swung the sack of gold sacks. It must have weighed three of her put together. Or at least half of the gooey man lying at her feet.
          How strong was she?
          From the leather cummerbund, she retrieved a gold inlayed pistol and ran her and held it to his brow. “Without even the courtesy of a parting gift. How sad.”
          Krish bared his teeth. “I have nothing of value.”
          “Ah, but I bet that pretty little knife you got cost a mighty big pocket.”
          “My katana was a gift from my dead sensei.”
          “Well this bullet will be my gift, if you don’t hand it over.” But after a second thought, “On second thought, let’s just skip the negotiation and I’ll just shoot you now.”
          The bullet clicked into place and she squeezed the trigger. Krish’s fist shot up and hit her just under the shoulder, nearly dislocating it if she hadn’t dodged most of the force. But as her counter attack she flung the bag of gold, the weight of two of the gooey man, and slammed into the wall. He fell in a lump on the floor.
          The pirate vixen snatched up the katana with its sheath and saluted the unconscious, probably dying or in a coma, young man and left the tavern in a flourish of victory.