The next day, Elian snapped his fingers and a giant palm tree burst out of the sand—this time in boat form: a sturdy wooden hull, a mast straight as a tree, sails woven from thick leaves swelling in the wind. The roots underneath moved like living oars, and the coconuts on deck? Natural cannons that fired explosive milk. It floated perfectly, still smelled like the beach, but it was a real ship.
"Look! The Violet Palm! We're gonna sail like pros… or like clowns on a palm tree!"
Bugs Bunny settled on the railing, carrot in hand.
"Not bad, kid. But if we sink, I ain't ending up as coconut soup."
SpongeBob climbed up to the crow's nest, arms spread wide.
"I can see everything! And if there are sharks, I'll give 'em a kiss!"
Popeye grumbled, pipe clenched between his teeth.
"Argh. As long as there's food, I'm in. Otherwise, I'll eat the sail."
Tom and Jerry? Already chasing each other across the deck: Tom slipped on a wet coconut, Jerry leapt over him like an acrobat. Road Runner zigzagged everywhere—"Beep beep!"—it sounded like a broken horn. Droopy, perched on a barrel, sighed softly:
"This is gonna be long. And salty."
Elian grabbed the wheel—a big leaf—and shouted:
"Set course for the horizon! We're gonna snag some treasure… or at least a fried fish!"
They took off. The ship skimmed over the water, roots paddling like giant spider legs.
An hour later, Elian pointed ahead.
"Hey! A black ship in the distance. It's coming toward us… slowly. Like they've got all the time in the world."
The enemy vessel approached: dark hull, sail marked with a red skull, cannons lined up. The captain—bearded, a scar across his cheek—called out without raising his voice:
"You look loaded. Stop, or we fire."
Elian burst out laughing.
"Loaded? We've got coconuts and a cat chasing a mouse. Want some tea?"
The captain shrugged.
"No tea. We take."
Grappling hooks flew. The first one latched onto the railing—Tom jumped on it, yanked hard, and the pirate on the other end tumbled into the water.
"Argh! A ninja cat!"
The second: SpongeBob wrapped it around his arm, spun like a sling, and hurled it back. The pirate flew like a rag doll.
Popeye swallowed a can of spinach—out of nowhere, thanks to Elian. Muscles bulging, he leapt onto their deck and with a single punch sent three men overboard.
"Argh! I like it when they fly!"
Road Runner darted between legs—"Beep beep!"—tripping pirates everywhere. One aimed at Droopy.
"You're dead, dog!"
Droopy sighed.
"Maybe. But I don't feel like it."
The bullet bounced off his round head, came back, and hit the pirate.
"I hate rubber stuff."
Elian snapped his fingers: giant hammers fell from the sky. One smashed the second-in-command, another crushed the sail. Pirates dropped one after another.
Then Bugs Bunny, completely calm, pulled out a red target from nowhere. He placed it on their deck.
"Hey, captain… take a look at this."
He raised a finger. The sky rumbled. A massive anvil—ten tons, with "ACME" written on it—plummeted like a comet. BOOM! It landed right on the target. The ship shook, planks shattered, pirates flew through the air like bowling pins.
The captain screamed:
"What the hell is this?!"
The anvil finished the job: deck wrecked, hull cracked. The ship tilted, water rushed in, and down it went—slowly sinking into the sea, bubbles everywhere. The pirates floated, groggy but alive.
Elian laughed, glowing more violet than ever.
"Next stop: an island with treasure… or just bad jokes!"
The Violet Palm resumed its course. Bugs chewed his carrot.
"Classic. I love when it ends like that."
Droopy sighed.
"Well… at least we're not wet."
The Violet Palm Tree glided over the water, leaf-sails snapping like a soft heartbeat. The sun was setting, warm and orange, the salty air clinging to the skin. The bubbles from the enemy ship had long since vanished—just a wet memory now.
Elian, sitting at the edge with his feet in the waves, stared at the horizon without a word. A faint smile lingered on his violet lips.
"That was fun, huh?"
Bugs Bunny, leaning against the mast, took a bite of his carrot.
"Classic. I like it when it ends with a splash."
SpongeBob bounced once, twice, as if the water were a trampoline.
"I didn't even get my shoes wet! Well… I don't have any."
Popeye grunted, pipe in his mouth.
"Argh. Those pirates… no spinach. Shame."
Tom and Jerry? Already back at it—Tom slipped on a wet coconut, Jerry leapt over him like an acrobat. Road Runner zigzagged across the deck: "Beep beep!"—like a cheerful little horn. Droopy, sitting at the back, sighed:
"Well… we're alive. That's something."
Elian turned to them.
"You weren't scared?"
Bugs shrugged.
"Scared? I've seen worse. Like a coyote falling off a cliff."
SpongeBob laughed.
"I just thought: 'oh, another adventure!'"
The boat drifted forward slowly. No course. Just the wind pushing it along. Elian lay down on the deck, hands behind his head.
"So… where are we going now?"
Popeye grumbled.
"As long as there's food, I don't care."
Tom caught Jerry (or didn't), froze mid-motion. Jerry gave a little wave, and off they went again.
An hour passed. The sun dipped lower. The horizon turned violet—like Elian's hair.
Suddenly, a coastline appeared: low palm trees, fields of oranges glowing in the last light, a wooden village in the distance. No shouting. No music. Just a heavy silence, as if the island was afraid to breathe.
Elian sat up.
"Hey… that's not normal."
They docked. The boat bumped the pier—a soft, almost shy "ploc." Elian jumped off, barefoot on the warm planks, arms wide open.
"Hello!"
No answer. Not a single villager in sight. Just a girl with orange hair, standing alone by a field of tangerines. An empty basket in her hand, a blue tattoo on her shoulder. She froze, eyes on the palm-tree boat. On Elian. On SpongeBob bouncing. On Bugs chewing. On Tom and Jerry… asleep, curled up together.
She blinked, mouth slightly open.
"What is this…? A yellow sponge? A talking rabbit? A cat and a mouse… napping? You're not pirates. You're… a nightmare."
Her voice was cold. No smile. No "welcome." Just a blunt statement, like she'd already seen too much absurdity.
Elian chuckled softly.
"We're not a nightmare. We're just… not normal."
Nami shook her head.
"Here, 'not normal' means dead. You don't understand anything."
She stared at SpongeBob—bouncing like it was a party. Bugs—a rabbit eating like the world was a joke. Tom snoring. She murmured to herself:
"Why… why is there a talking sponge? A cat and a mouse… napping? You're going to get yourselves killed."
She tightened her grip on her basket. No fear for herself. Fear for them. These clowns who thought the world could be won with laughter. She turned her head toward the village, far away, empty.
"I work here. I don't get involved with others. And you… you should leave."
Elian put his hands on his hips.
"We didn't come to cause trouble. Just to… have fun."
Nami lowered her eyes.
"Have fun? Here, we pay just to breathe."
She was trembling. Not with anger. With fear. For these idiots who had set foot here like it was a vacation beach.
The sun set. The air smelled of crushed oranges. Elian looked at Nami.
"So… we stay?"
Nami hesitated.
"If you stay… you'll die."
Elian smiled.
"Then we'll die laughing."
Nami shook her head, but her gaze drifted over them—the bouncing sponge, the rabbit chewing nonstop, the cat and mouse snoring as if it were normal. She gripped her basket tighter.
"Listen… you don't seem dangerous. But around here, we don't see… things like you very often. If someone spots you, it's over."
She hesitated, casting a glance toward the empty village.
"Come. To my place. It's not far. Just for now. You hide in there, don't make a sound, and tomorrow… we'll see."
Elian blinked, surprised.
"To your place? Are you sure?"
"Not sure. But if you stay on the dock, you'll be dead before nightfall."
She turned on her heels, basket under her arm. Elian signaled to the others.
"Come on, let's follow the girl with the oranges!"
SpongeBob bounced behind her. Bugs shrugged. Popeye grunted, "Argh, as long as there's food." Tom and Jerry woke with a start, Road Runner zipped past like lightning, Droopy sighed but followed.
Nami's house was small, wooden, hidden behind a field. Low roof, smell of dried oranges. She opened the door, letting them in. No warm welcome. Just a "sit over there" and a look that said, I'm doing this so I don't have your deaths on my conscience.
Elian sat on the floor, legs crossed.
"Thanks. You're cool, even if you look angry."
Nami crossed her arms.
"I'm not angry. I'm… realistic."
Bugs settled onto a chair, carrot in hand.
"Realistic isn't funny."
She didn't reply. Just a sigh.