Lift-Off and Potbelly Stoves
There once was a ship built of fingernails and toenails collected from the dead. On the ship, warriors destined to fight the gods travelled.
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“Stay here and fix some food. I’m starving.” Steel hurried out on the deck while Hank clung to the unlit potbelly stove. Through the window, he could see ratlines stretching, and more groans and creaks followed.
Shit. Hank squeezed his eyes together. He wasn’t entirely sure humans should be flying. Had it been their purpose they’d have been born with wings.
“Woo-hoo!” A cold wind followed the opening of the door. “We have lift-off.” Steel clung to the doorpost. His hair in a mess, the top hat about to slide off, and his eyes had an almost crazy shine to them. “Come on, Hank. You’ve got to see this!”
“I’m not
