the smuggler’s bible


Bardolph spends a long night herding a bunch of goddamn lizards into the courtyard so they can watch his majesty beat an early autumn waning crescent moon twenty-one to nil in a game of badminton.

The old bastard is nutty, he thinks. I don’t need this shit. Nobody does.

He leaves the next day. He doesn’t even quit, technically speaking, he just sort of walks out with his middle finger waving over his shoulder. By dinner, he’s back and raking the lawn clean for the big rematch. It turns out things are pretty bonkers everywhere, except also with the plague.