Buried - by Jamie Best (An Excerpt)

“Heave ho, Matey,” he shouted authoritatively. “Hoist the mainsail, and prepare for fine day of sailing,” Tim added triumphantly. “Aye, aye, Cap’n,” replied his trusty first mate, Joel. “Where we be headin’, Cap’n, sir?” “We be headin’ for a long lost isle in the south Pacific, inhabited by cannibals and wild ferocious beasts.” Regarding the frightened expression on his companion’s face, he added, “To find buried treasure, of course.” “Aye!” he agreed. “Buried treasure!” “Timmy. Time for dinner,” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen window. “Send Joel home now and come in and wash your hands.” “Rats,” Tim stated, shaking his head with disappointment. “I mean scurvy rats. We’ll steer into this cove, anchor the galleon and ride out the storm. After lunch we set sail again, Matey.” And then he added. “See you later, hey.” “See ya,” Joel replied as he trudged across the lawn to his own house up the street. His tummy had been grumbling for the past half hour so he didn’t really mind the delay. He and Timmy were best friends, living on the same street their whole young lives. He would have rather played astronaut, but pirate, deep sea divers, or even mountain climbers would do on most days. Joel was easy going and liked to play make believe and he fell easily into the role of first mate. Timmy, on the other hand, loved all things, and only things, pirate. He reveled in tales of Lafaiete, and Morgan. While other boys in the neighbourhood dreamed of playing in the major leagues or the NHL, Timmy fell asleep each night imagining that he was part of a crew of . Timmy’s interest in pirates had started quietly, on a regular Saturday afternoon in July, at the local movie theater, at a matinee showing of ‘Pirates of the Carribean’. He hadn’t really wanted to see the movie. His friends had practically dragged him there, bribing him with a box of ‘Reeces Pieces’. The film was wonderful, thrilling, fast paced, exciting. Timmy wanted more and talked his parents into going that evening to take him to see the 7:00pm showing. His youthful interest in pirate adventures grew slowly into an obsession. It started harmlessly with pirate jokes. “Hey, mom. What is a pirate’s favorite cookie?” he would ask and then conclude with, “Ships Ahoy,” and giggle at himself. Or, he would ask, “How much did pay to have his ears pierced? A ! Ha, ha, ha.” Then Tim began to mimic pirate speech. Uncle Sam had encouraged him, knowing it would irritate his sister and brother in-law. Together, they practiced in front of the mirror. “Shiver me timbers. Yo ho, ho, and a bottle of rum,” Tim would shout. “Avast ye scurvy dogs. Swab the deck, er walk the plank.” Sam would smile and suggest more phrases. Tim’s mother would shake her head, cringing at her son’s growing vocabulary, hoping he would soon tire of it.