The Crooked Toad Tavern
She pushes aside the tent flap and a chorus of good mornings greats her. Smiling faces look up, some sporting crumbs from half eaten toast and others halfway through their makeup routine. One rogue is brushing his teeth while the wenches in the opposite corner fiddle with numerous palettes of makeup, deciding on which will be the winner for today’s look.
“What’s up wenches! Ready to sing and drink again today?” She asks as she sets her mug down on the nearest table.
“Evelyan, you’re way too perky for me this morning. Tone it down a notch or two would ya? I need to finish my energy drink before I can attempt to match your energy level,” grumbles Isla Drinkmore. Evelyan grins and bats her eyes.
“Oh, come on grumpy gills! You’re just jealous I went home last night and you stayed in your tent. It’s amazing what a comfortable bed and a hot shower will do for you,” Evelyan says in a sing-song voice as she dodges the rolled-up pair of socks Isla tosses at her head.
Evelyan takes a sip of her tea and sets it back on the table in the middle of the tent, shoving aside a bag of bagels to make room. Pulling her red and brown cloak from her garment rack she shares with Isla, Evelyan lays it on the ground in front of the full-length mirror she had propped up against one of the tent poles. Sitting down with her legs crossed, she pulls out a brow pencil, eye liner, and foundation, laying them out in front of the mirror. She takes off her glasses and puts them away in their case, making sure they are within easy reach for the end of the day.
“Hey, Evelyan, do you have any extra ribbon?” Scarlett drawls. Evelyan looks over and sees Scarlett pawing through a tote overflowing with skirts, shawls, corsets, and makeup.
“I may, let me look,” Evelyan replies “I think… there it is! I have black and cream. Which would you prefer?” She holds them up for Scarlett to choose.
“Whichever you have more of and don’t mind not getting back,” She says with a laugh. Evelyan tosses the black ribbon across the tent, hitting Bowline squarely in the back of the head.
“Sorry! I promise that wasn’t on purpose!” Evelyan tries to get up to check on the flabbergasted rogue.
“Quite alright, quite alright. I know wenches aim better when their three sheets to the wind… and it’s barely 9 a.m. Let’s get you a drink shall we, Evelyan?” Bowline swaggers out of the tent with two empty tankards in hand. Evelyan blushes and settles back down, pulling out the black noir eyeliner that stands out like a dream on stage.
“Darlin’, do you have those tacos we talked about last night?” Bilge-Rat Bart calls out as he enters the tent, holding the flap open for Bowline. Evelyn looks up and sees him standing there; pants and headscarf on with a boot in one hand and his guitar in the other.
“Dear lord Bart, how did you manage to remember the tacos and not where your other boot goes?” Evelyan chuckles, “I can pick some up after I finish my makeup if you still want some. But once I’m in my corset you can say goodbye tacos until next weekend!”
“Ha, I know how you ladies are with your corsets. Remember now,” He looks around with a grin, “boots before corsets wenches!” He ducks as a boot is tossed his way. “Hey now just trying to help!”
“If you’re going to help, put on that other boot and help me lace my corset,” Isla mutters.
Evelyan chuckles as Bart weaves through the wenches hiking up skirts and shimming into their corsets. She pulls out a compact with lavender and plum eye shadows and applies them generously to her lids. The tent flap opens again. Evelyan moves her gaze further up on the mirror and sees the reflection of the Circus Monkey from Blue Court with a bottle of Vitamin C in his hand.
“Ok who needs their daily dose?” He asks, “Wenches first, Bowline, you know that. I swear you pirates get worse every year. Hands up ladies!” He walks around the tent and places an orange chewable in each of the upraised palms. “Alright, rogues, it’s your turn!” He walks another circuit around the tent and he exits with a wave.
Evelyan pops the chewable in her mouth and shudders at the explosion of tangy orange that covers her tongue. With another shudder, she stands up and grabs her bloomers, slipping them over her black pirate boots.
“Evelyan, did you make those?” Isla exclaims, “They are crazy cute!”
“Yeah! I made them this past week, remember you called and I was trying to find a Band-Aid? Ahem, yeah that’s why. I had way too many pins involved with the making of these bloomers. But they are too cute to complain about a little spilled blood.” Evelyan shrugs and shimmies into her gray pinstripe skirt, buttoning the three buttons on the front flap closed before lacing up the back panel with a piece of black ribbon. “Now, where did I put that dress?” she mutters to herself. “Hey Isla, did you see my red chemise? I thought I hung it up next to your purple shirt,” she asks as she rifles through the clothing rack.
“The mama bear one or the paisley one?” she asks as she takes another sip of her energy drink.
“The mama bear one. It’s supposed to be really hot out again today and I really don’t want to have another heat stroke.”
“Here it is! It was under my basket, sorry,” Isla holds the chemise out to Evelyan. “Hey do you want to walk around Faire before our first show?”
“Heck yes, let me put my corset on really quick” Evelyan pulls the chemise over her head and tucks it under the waistband of her skirt. She shrugs into her black leather corset, exhales and pulls it closed in the front, latching each hook with shaking hands. Securing the last hook, she takes a deep breath, sucking in a much-needed air. “Ok, Isla, are you ready?” Evelyan asks as she threads skirt hikes onto her belt on either side of the belt pouch that was already hanging on it. She secures the belt around her waist and adjusts the skirt hikes and pulls up two pinches of her skirt to thread through the silver half rings on the ends of the skirt hikes.
“Here Evelyan, a sweet paddlin’ for a salty wench,” Bowline says with a bow and a wink.
“Oh ha ha Bowline. I’ll get you for that later!” Evelyan rolls her eyes and grabs the tankard, “I love the mix of cider and mead, there’s something about it that just makes it so much better.”
“That would be the alcohol content. Speaking of, how did you get a paddlin’ and I didn’t?” Isla says with mock outrage.
“Well, Isla, I hit Bowline in the back of the head,” she winks, “Maybe you should try it sometime.” Evelyan laughs. Angel Borracho, the director, strides into the tent, his tankard clinking against a coin pouch.
“I need everyone outside in front of the bar please. It’s time for the Captain’s Toast, so cover up what you need to cover up but don’t bother getting into full costume. You’ll have time after to finish your primping.” He says then turns to leave.
“Well Isla, I guess we won’t have time for a walk, but this is more important,” Evelyan says as she finishes the rest of her paddlin’. The wenches exit the actor’s tent and make their way to the front of the Crooked Toad Tavern where the bar is located. The rest of the crew slowly joins the bar crew around one of the electrical spools that had been converted into a table. Val Uptuous is busy filling paper cups with orange juice for mock mimosas and hands them around until each crew member has one.
“As you all know we raise a toast to our dearly departed Captain Redlegs and any other crew that has passed on to the depths of Davy Jones’ Locker. So, let’s raise our glasses and drink to our crew. Bowline, would you do the honors?” Val raises her glass as Bowline pulls out his bones, takes a deep breath and launches into song.
“We drink to the Captain, we drink to the Crew,
We drink to the ladies of easy virtue.
So, fill up your glasses and raise them on hiiigh,
We won’t leave the Toad ‘til the tavern is dry!”
The crew joins him, raising their glasses and taking a small sip after each chorus. Several other renditions are sung and by the end, the party cups are dry and each crew member has a tear in their eyes.
“Here’s to our Captain Redlegs,” Angel raises his glass once more, “Hip hip hazzah, hip hip hazzah, hip hip hazzah, you Bastard!” He roars and the crew echoes him. Raising their gazes and glasses to the sky.
Evelyan wipes her eyes and hands Isla a tissue. Everyone heads back to the actor’s tent with watery smiles. Scarlett and Evelyan touch up their eye make-up, smudged with tears. Isla takes a swig of the paddlin’ Mouse had slipped her from the bar. Bowline clears his throat several times before turning to the crew.
“Alright laddies and lassies, let’s dry our eyes and put on a show to make the Captain proud!” The crew cheers and a chorus of ‘hazzahs’ ring out in agreement. The tent fills with chatter once more and the crew finishes buckling, cinching, and lacing their outfits into place. There is a giddy excitement in the air as finishing touches are added.
“Isla, do you want to help me with peanuts?” Evelyan asks, “I think the morning crowd has cleared out most of the baskets.”
“Let’s go! Can we get a refill before the show?” Isla asks after finishing her paddlin’.
“It wouldn’t be a pirate show if we weren’t half sloshed, let’s go,” Evelyan chuckles and grabs her tankard. The pair leave the tent and hand their tankards to the nearest barmaid, Mouse. “Another paddlin’ please, Mouse.”
“Coming up!” Mouse says with a grin, “I swear the crew is going to be hammered by the second show, but it does make the pretend drunkenness a bit more realistic,” she says with a chuckle as she hands the tankards back.
Evelyan takes a sip and looks around the Crooked Toad, taking in the peanut shells littering the ground, several patrons with turkey legs, and the laughter that fills the space. This is where it all begins; she thinks as the gong rings out marking the top of the hour.
“Places everyone!” Angel roars backstage. Pirates and wenches rush to the stage and take up their poses. Some draping themselves dramatically over the decks and others standing behind the helm, as Val and Angel move towards the bow of the thrust stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen allow us to present to you the Cooked Toad Naughty Bawdy Tavern Show!” the crew announces with gusto and a cheer from the audience. The show has begun.
STEPHANIE GOENS is pursuing a Baccalaureate of English with a minor in Creative Writing and is a senior. She is an avid reader and adores wielding pen against paper in her free time.