James Telmont, Marine Avenger

2013 3rd Place Winner!

James Telmont, Marine Avenger

By Sebastian Paquette

to Riley Rupard,

for expressing his individuality

Maple Leaf Book Writing Project

Brattleboro Vermont

Copyright 2013

Part I

Dull, ordinary, boring. Those are three great ways to describe my life. I guess you could say that I’m so normal that it’s extraordinary. That would be fine with me. Because it’s obviously true.

My name’s James Telmont. Your everyday 12 year old. An exact replica of the norm. I guess that my life is fine, being normal and all, but I just want to get NOTICED for something. To be, you know, special. If there’s one special thing about me, it’s that I always wear a hat or helmet to school. And that’s not even special. I know at least two dozen other kids who regularly wear hats.

My friend Tyler Smith is special in two ways. One special characteristic of Tyler is that his dad owns a skate park, so Tyler skateboards for regularly four hours a day! Also, he loooooves any kind of chip. Potato chips, corn chips, banana chips, pickle chips. He also ranks them. His favorites are chocolate chips. His least favorite are banana chips.

I live in an average seaside town on the East Coast. I live in a regular house with my Grampa Jones, who used to be a pirate, which is cool, because he loves to tell stories about pirating “back in the good old days” which is around the ‘70s and ‘80s. He is maybe the world’s greatest storyteller. I don’t feel like I come close to him when telling stories. That’s why no one but me knows Grampa Jones’ tales. I feel like he should be the only one to tell the stories, but he never gets out of bed and does not leave the house ever. He says that he can remember swabbing the decaying old decks of the ship “as if it was just yesterday.” He and his loyal old crew weren’t those mean old ship-looting, treasure-stealing, sailor-hating grouches with scars covering their faces and tattoos covering their muscly arms. Actually, Grampa Jones’ crew was a rebellion against those “jerks of the sea,” as Grampa called them.

Grampa Jones’ crew named themselves “The Marine Avengers.” The Marine Avengers worked with a sense that, if they let their enemies go, society just wouldn’t be safe. Thus, the Avengers fought modern-day pirates that were somewhat similar to time bombs. Those pirates could unleash something bad any second.

The Marine Avengers’ worst enemies were Barton the Bloody and his comrades, the Blackheart Bullies. The Bullies ate raw sawfish for breakfast, ransacked innocent citizens of nearby islands and seaside towns, and hoarded an enormous sum of gold coins beneath the decks. To make a long story short, they were simply EVIL.

Barton the Bloody died of scurvy in 1989. This was a big victory for the Avengers, but also a huge loss, seeing as they had no nemesis anymore. That was where Barton the Bloody Jr. came in. The Marine Avengers, after ten years, had to band back together and try to fight their new archenemy.

Soon after, Grampa Jones grew ill and took to his bed. The Marine Avengers never were able to catch their new nemesis without Grampa’s help. Grampa stayed in bed for the next ten years and that is all of the story I know. I have heard many other stories from him but none of the others were quite as mysterious and interesting as that one. Hearing about those experiences, I wish I could have taken part in them, because I would love a chance to do something far, far from normal.

Today was a normal school day. After my normal day, I did something also normal which was going to Tyler’s dad’s skate park. I just practiced a couple skating moves and got Tyler a bag of a new kind of chips from the snack bar. These chips were sour cream and onion but with a special cheese kick to it. I caught a glimpse of Tyler turning pale emerald as he took a whiff of the stale chips, which had attracted a swarm of horseflies. I grabbed a Coke. But then Buster the bully showed up.

Oh, man. Was I in trouble. Not only is Buster huge, mean, and absolutely TERRIFYING, but he loooooves Cokes. And I, a defenseless twelve-year-old, was standing in the middle of a huge skate park, holding a large bottle of Coke, in front of Buster the Bully.

“Gimme the Coke, Squirt,” demanded He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Here.

“Get your own, Busssss-TAHHHH,” teased Monty Jackson, certified class clown.

Buster ran after Monty. Monty always distracts Buster from teasing people. It’s nice, but I think it’s time I started standing up for myself better. But that can wait for tomorrow. I guzzled the Coke. Tyler and I grinned, pushed past the people waiting to get in the skate park, and skated home as fast as I could.

Part II

The next morning, I woke up and searched for the hat to wear that day. I rummaged through the chest of hats, and found a real-as-life pirate hat and eye patch. “Whoa,” I muttered as I inspected the eye patch. It was black as charcoal combined with the night sky itself, it seemed. THIS… This seemed so close to me, yet miles away. It felt almost as if it would crumble any second. I stared at it, amazed.

I stood in awe, then got ready for another long, normal day. I placed the hat and eye patch in my backpack and headed to school. I walked the seaside trail, which was sandy, breezy, and hot. I then put on the hat and patch.

“YAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!” I heard from behind my head.

“WHO’S THERE?!” I yelled, even though I had no idea what to expect. Plus, I didn’t really want to know.

What answered nearly scared the sanity out of me. “BARTON THE BLOODY JUNIOR!!!”

I turned around to find a muscular, huge, angry, scarred, stitched, hulking pirate, complete with a tangled mess of hair. A modern pirate, though with a slight resemblance to those old hostile terrors. I barely kept myself from fainting.

I ran past the beach and sprinted into town, where school lay. I heard a clunk of a boot behind me. I headed for the plaza, thinking I could lose that creep in there. Bad idea. The guards asked why I was dressed like a clown, and some strangers thought Barton the Maniac was an advertisement for the boat maker downtown. But I have to admit, what would you say in front of an insanely normal 12-year-old wearing an eye patch on the run from a pirate creep?

See what I mean?

Well, anyway, I ran out of town and was caught by my pursuer on the beach. I used every last ounce of strength to scream for help as the foamy green waves crushed the defiant dunes on the shore. Suddenly, a peculiar scent wafted over me. Chloroform. I lay tied up on the beach, as my tired mind screamed, “I must stay awake! Must stay awake! Stay! Must stay…asleep….”

Part III (Pay attention!!! This is important!)

I don’t know how long after, or what day, but I woke up eventually. Sounds of large men falling, sloshing liquid, and breaking glass rattled through my ears as I frantically tried to comprehend where I was at the time, but to no avail. I barely could remember who I was, let alone what just happened. I found myself in a tiny wooden hole of a room filled halfway to the ceiling with heavy baggage. Either I was extremely dizzy or the room was rocking around. I peeked out the keyhole and saw what appeared to be a sailor asleep under the tap of a beer keg. Great. When I wanted to be unique, I’m sure this isn’t what I had in mind.

I sat for what felt like a very long time and wracked my brain for how to get out of the room. I tried the door a couple times and it became clear that I had been locked in and forgotten about. I thought about breaking down the door with one of the suitcases, but I didn’t want to wake the old sleeping sailor. Instead, I searched the bags until I found some useful things. I decided to keep a pocket notebook, a pen (I might as well start keeping a journal), and a bobby pin. I stuck the bobby pin into the keyhole and hoped for the best. For some reason, that bobby pin was the perfect key because the door popped open in an instant.

I snuck past Sleeping Ugly (boy, does he snore!) to another small room. I expected maybe some lifeboats or something. Except, I didn’t find some lifeboats or something. Barton the Bloody Jr just happened to be there. But on the bright side, he said he’d give me a nice little room. So here I am, living happily ever after… in the smelly old brig. Whoop-de-stinking-doo.

James Telmont’s Ship Log

Day 1

Stuck in the smelliest dungeon I have ever seen. Not that I’ve ever seen any others. Not allowed out. No toilet—just a disgusting bucket. I will not describe that any more, considering you would barf if I did. Meals: two-day-old leftovers, gruel, and mostly bread and water. GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!!

Day 2

Note to self: examine ship at meals and plan escape routes.

Day 3

You know, I USED to like bread and water!!!!

Day 4

Victory!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Found perfect plan. Saw my backpack slumped in corner. I plan to say I need to use the bucket at mealtime, and run to baggage room, grab backpack and sneak into lifeboat area, and take lifeboat. I save food and soda in my backpack, so I’ll live off that as I sail home. This can’t fail, the way I see it.

Day 5

Got caught. Why does that obnoxious captain always set up camp near lifeboats?! Now hired for ship work, and will get better meals. I would love a hamburger right now………

Day 6

Stuck here for Memorial Day. Do not expect this to look formal.

Day 7

“Swabbed” the deck today, and was yelled at two thirds of the darn time. So my job is trying to clean a floor with dirt literally fossilized into it while a drunken sea-dog is hollering in my sensitive ear. If June isn’t any better, I’ll scream. Wait. That so-called pirate screamed enough.

Part IV

I caused trouble at sea! (aka, I was annoying at work.) Well, the first week of work was all scrub, scrub, scrub and yell, yell, yell. Nothing exciting yet. I never expected pirate life to be so dull… so normal. The second week was like this:

· Sunday- Same old, same old.

· Monday- Accidentally* swung a weighted rope into a pirate’s head. Muahahahaha!!!!!

· Tuesday- Pirate paid me back by calling me “dingbat”. What does that MEAN?! Anyway, then he hit me with a baseball bat. I heard dinging all afternoon.

· Wednesday- I drank a soda today—in a glass bottle! Then I tore out a page of my ship log ( You remember from part III, right? Weren’t you paying attention??) and wrote a message on it. Then I stuffed the message in the bottle and sealed it with a cork I stole at lunch from a drunken pirate’s wine. Message in a bottle!

· Thursday- I hope this works.

· Friday- Surprise surprise—I was yelled at some more. Can’t the sea doofus figure out that the dirt is permanent?? Plus, the “better meals” are bread, water, and celery. Lucky for me my captain knows his loopholes.

· Saturday- Accidentally** tripped over a barrel and fell headfirst into the ocean. Got yelled at more than usual, which I thought was impossible.

*Not accidentally

**Accidentally

Day 15

Today was (not) fun! We partied all night, with drunken sailors yelling at… ME!!!! What did I do?? Really. If I did something, I really don’t know.

Day 16

Still no reply from my message in a bottle. I need some earplugs.

Day 17

I tried getting one of those floaty rings, you know, like at the pool? Well, I took one of those and jumped overboard, and realized I had to struggle to hang on to the ring.

Plus, I forgot my backpack.

Also, the water was freezing.

Besides that, I had NO IDEA where on Earth I was!!!

And so I desperately swam for my life but the ship was heading away fast. Then I had to float around. That’s when the cruise ship comes in.

There I was, hanging on for DEAR LIFE, when this cruise ship comes along, so I yelled at the top of my lungs, hoping someone would hear me if they couldn’t see me. Soon, some random guy on the cruise ship came over to the edge of the deck and asked me if I wanted a lift. (Wahoo!)

I thought: Duh. What does it look like?!

I said: “Sure! That’d be great!!!!”

He dropped a rope down from the ship, motioning for me to climb aboard. I was dragged along for a little bit, but finally was able to inch my way up. And that is why I was able to write the last nine paragraphs after my notebook dried out. And why I have a free cruise (yay!).

Part V

I thought I’d be in trouble with the ship’s captain for sneaking on the cruise, but the result was the complete opposite. The captain gasped and asked me what it was like to be captured by pirates. A couple reporters who had been looking for stories on the cruise started interviewing me. A group of teenagers kept asking me questions and texting their friends back home about my story. As quick as a wink, I was all over the internet.

Unfortunately, the next day, I was in HUGE trouble. Barton the Bloody Jr. and crew had found us. (I guess even pirates get texts.) They boarded the ship angrily, and one of the pirates reached out and grabbed me by the collar. I scrambled out of my shirt and ran away as fast as I could, leaving him with only a Star Wars t-shirt in his hand.

The whole angry pirate mob thundered after me as if they were running a 100-meter dash. I ran for my life, but I couldn’t lose those pirates. I felt trapped.

I grabbed a large lobster trap from the deck, throwing it behind me, and emptying out several lobsters as two pirates turned the corner. The pirates yelled at me and ran fast, heading straight at my turned back. The pirates slipped on a couple of jumpy lobsters, making them angry. The lobsters snapped their claws crazily, around and around. I ran away, laughing.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over me.

“What’s so funny, Chuckles?” Barton the Bloody Jr. demanded. I stopped in my tracks immediately. I heard many footsteps behind me. I braced for an attack, turning around slowly. I figured Barton the Bloody Jr.’s friends had come up behind me. They had—looking tired, dirty, and most of all, aggravated.

“Finally, just finally, I’ll put an end to the Marine Avengers, after Captain Howard Jones took every last cent my father had!” Barton the Bloody Jr. bellowed triumphantly.

I had heard that story many times before from Grampa Jones. Barton the Bloody Sr. was motivated by money because he was very poor. He lived off coins dropped in the street. One day, he drove to Florida in a stolen motorboat and robbed a whole neighborhood in Miami. Luckily, Grampa Jones eventually took the cash from Barton and gave it back to the people who had been robbed.

“You’re a bully and a thief!” I yelled defiantly. Just like Buster, I thought. “I know the world isn’t fair, but you’ve taken it too far! You’ve gone to all this trouble to torture a child, in the hopes of getting revenge on my tired, weak, old grandfather.” My face felt like it was burning. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a large group of passengers huddling like football players. It looked almost as if they were planning an attack. I’d better keep this up a little longer. “And then,” I continued, “you terrorize a cruise ship full of innocent people looking for relaxation! You’ve taken the law and shaken it!!!”

Suddenly, a voice behind me shrieked, “There he is, gang! Let’s get him!” An old lady ran at the pirates with a cane. Some teenagers tackled them. The captain of the cruise yelled, “Unhand the boy!”

What happened next was such a blur; I’m not exactly sure what happened. What I do know is that a ton of people were texting and sending videos to their friends. The Coast Guard came and arrested the pirates. I was returned home. I dreamt of pirates all night.

Epilogue