“You’ll need some birds.” One of they flamingos flapped herself down onto the deck. “Hi, I’m JoLeen. Us birds up above have been yakking at each other while we’ve been keeping your ship moving. We found out that we all took this gig for a lark. But now we’ve bonded and we’re looking to stay together. Like at your new inn, Mr. Bluebeard. We’ll patrol the skies for you. Keep out the riffraff.” She bowed. “And welcome your guests.”
“With bird songs.” One of Bluebeard’s wives name of Imelda piped up. “Nightly concerts on the veranda. Sweet music to send them off to sleep.”
“Um, about that.” JoLeen cleared her throat. “We’re really not songbirds. We try but, well, take a listen. Hit it, birds.” Aye me mateys, they bird chorus it be like a symphony. If’n none of they instruments be in tune. And they musicians is never played a note afore. It shivered all they ship’s timbers.
“OK. OK” Imelda uncovered her ears. “I can work with that. I used to be a music teacher. And we’ve got plenty of time before the first guests come. You’ll be singing like, well like birds, way before then.”
“Nice,” Bluebeard hugged Imelda. “So that’s frogs and rabbits and birds.”
“And us.” One of they gorillas he lumbered up to Bluebeard.
Skulldugger #1: The speed demon. Wanted for wanton stealing of bases.
Skulldugger #2: Springfoot. Wanted for grand theft of a home run away from the batter.
…do-rag C. I be totally rocking it, right? They splendifcent Terri Cohlene be picking it out for me. Terri sez to me she sez “Arrrrrr! I be thinkin’ do-rag ‘C’ to match the colour o’ yer eyes.” Aye, Terri, I is had me one tough life. Or mayhaps two tough lives. They be giving me the red eye. Terri not only has her the sharp eye for pirate-type headgear, she be a wicked good poet, kids’ writer, and editor – and now she be doing tabletop games too. If’n that not enough, she be a all around good matey to boot. She gots her a website at 
And now I be leaping into me soup bowl and taking me do-rag for a test flight.
having a hat on me head. Once upon a time, I had me a regular witch-type hat that tied under me chin so’s it not be blowing away when I paddles me soup bowl. But the March winds they be something fierce. Me hat it flies orf and the knot it squeezes me throat shut. Yar, me hat it almost strangulates me. I wastes no time giving it away to me landlubber witch pal. Now I be on the lookout for a hat that completes me look without cutting orf me circulation.
pirate do-rag like me love Black Jack Higgins and me nanny Fish Guts Malloy. I could conjure one up with me little wand. But it not be a official do-rag with they pirate stamp of approval. So I takes me down to a dusty old shop that be selling all things pirate. They gots them racks and racks of do-rags. Bonus! I picks me out the perfect do-rag so’s I has me a killer head shot for when me book it finds itself a publisher.
smart-mouthed soup bowl or get older when some swabby he be asking me a question. But The Big Book says I gots to. When I be a witchling I goes, “Fie! I grabs that Big Book and makes it walk the plank.”
you’ll also throw away all the rules that keep things the way they are. Then anything can happen. Cockroaches could become witches. AND witches could become cockroaches.”
Baba Blogga Yaga 