Right Under Their Noses (FICTOID)

The catamaran came ashore right where the children were building a sandcastle.

The captain of the catamaran stood on the deck between the two hulls, binoculars looped around his neck.

“Do you know where the trade master is?” he asked.  “I’ve come far with ivory to barter.”

“We don’t trade in ivory anymore,” said the older child.

“It’s barbaric,” said the younger.

“Don’t presume to lecture me,” said the captain.  “I’ll talk to the trade master.”

“The older child shrugged.  “Have it your way.”  

The two children vanished in a flash, replaced by a leathery cephalopod.  “Who demands an audience with the trade master?”

The captain blinked.  “Are you -- ?”

“I am.”

“But I thought – “

“I am not,” said the trade master.  “Quickly now, what have you to trade?”

“I bring ivory – “

“Barbarity,” said the trade master.  “Didn’t the child tell you?  Anyway, we have a formula to replace it.”

“But I traveled so far – “

“Not at my behest.  Quick, what have you to trade other than ivory?”

“What do you want?”

“Teeth.”

“Teeth?”

“Teeth,” said the trade master, opening its beak to reveal it was lined with teeth.  “We have no formula to duplicate them.  Trade us your teeth and your crew may divide this among you.”

The cephalopod held up a cheap kaleidoscope.

“What can we do with that?” the captain asked.

“I never ask my clients what they intend to do with the items I sell,” said the trade master.  “Now, are your teeth worth it, or should I ask for another organ?”

© Buzz Dixon