Ficlets

Of Frying Pans and Treasure Maps

I found Bertha in the kitchen, standing over two unidentified men who lay sprawled on the floor. One of them was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. The other one was moaning in pain. When I walked in, Bertha turned and flashed me a triumphant grin. She was still holding her frying pan.

“I knocked them both out with my pan, like I did the fella in the hall. Better than any weapon, is my trusty frying pan.”

“I’m glad you’re OK, Bertha.”

“Where’s your father? Did he off that nasty old pirate yet?”

“No, he-”

“Then I bet Violet gave him a run for his money. She’s a feisty one, just like her mother.”

“Bertha, listen! Violet’s been kidnapped. The pirate wasn’t ‘offed’ by anyone. He stabbed my pa in the stomach and took off in the rowboat with Violet and the treasure map. Pa said Violet kept another copy of that map, but he fainted before he could tell me where.”

Bertha just stared at me calmly as if I was talking about the weather. Then she said, “I know where the other copy of the map is. Come with me.”

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