Ghosts in the Works

Ghosts in the Works

The roar of the cannons echoing in the narrow harbor, the dark pirate ship drew near the foundering English frigate. Ferocious pirates lined the rail ready for boarding, the ships nearly colliding in the billowing smoke.

Captain Blood, cutlass in hand, peered through the smoke. “Steady at the helm!” He growled, “Ready mates, stand ready! No quarter asked, nor given!”

“Cut! Cut, goddamn it! Jones? What the hell was that near the third cannon?” The director yelled from the camera scaffold.

“What, sir?” the harried P.A. asked.

“That God damn, ghost! I could see it on the monitor, right near the the third cannon’s muzzle! Damn it! This frigging shot is expensive!”

“Sorry, sir!” Jones quavered. “I’ll check it out, sir!”

“You damn well better check it out, you measly little shit! This film is costing a shit-load of money, every minute!”

Edmund Jones looked upward, as if beseeching the heavens, before scampering towards the now silent, unmoving antique ships.

“Okay, everyone!” World famous director, Ralph Warren bellowed, “Take five, but don’t go wandering off, we have to get this in the can before we lose the light!”

The infamous Captain Blood, leaning against the mast, fished around in his leggings before withdrawing a small cell phone. Punching the buttons, he listened a moment before shouting into the instrument. “Bernie? Bernie, what’s the news? What do you mean, nothing? Damn it, Bernie! I don’t want to do another damn picture aboard another damn boat!”

Listening closely, his face twisting under the itchy fake beard, he shouted into the phone again. “Damn it Bernie! I don’t care! First one dismal re-make of a stupid Viking movie, freezing my ass off in Greenland! Now this even stupider re-make of a frigging Errol Flynn movie, sweating my ass off in Costa Rica! Damn! Errol Flynn didn’t have to wear this ridiculous beard!”

Charlie Sanderson; the actor underneath the beard, listened a few more moments before shouting into the phone. “I don’t know how much longer we are shooting! There’s some kind of foul up with the damn camera or something at the moment! They keep picking up some kind of ghost during the boarding take!... Yes, exactly like the trouble they had filming Eric the Red!... Hell no, I don’t know what it is, do I look like a Ghost Buster? Just cheap film probably!”

Listening another moment, Charlie shouted into the phone again. “I don’t give a damn! I know the money is good, but you know how seasick I get! Just do it Bernie, just do it! I swear I’ll start looking for another agent!... Yes, that was a threat, you little shit!”

Slapping the phone shut, Charlie struggled to stuff it back into the tight pants, before giving up and throwing it hard across the deck.

“Frigging agents!”

“Yeah, they sure are a pain in the ass, aren’t they?” The dripping corpse, hanging from the lines above him, laughed.