Hals HTML TidsSkute

HallÄ! Hal her. Helten i sjÞrÞverhistorien min er ikke meg, men sjefen min Lotta.

En sjÞrÞverhistorie skal egentlig en en start. Sorry, men jeg mÄ fortelle deg i dag, fordi 
 du fÄr se sjÞl.

For lenge siden, pÄ ei bru langt, langt borte 


Hals HTML TidsSkute

av

Lillian Raae-Vea (9 đŸŽâ€â˜ ïžđŸ‘ž) & Ola Vea

VÄre savnede smÄjenter

Det er ikke bare fest og moro pÄ brua vÄr. SÞr for oss ligger Southie.

Og denne ene vÄren har 2 smÄjenter blitt borte fra brua vÄr.

Ryktet pĂ„ brua er at smĂ„jentene vĂ„re 💙 blei kidnappa av slemminger fra Southie. 💀

Nattevaktene har ikke patruljert inn i Southie pÄ 12 Är.

Lotta & Hal vÄkna av hamring pÄ dÞra.

«Ah, det er DERE.» Hal slapp inn herr of fru Black fra to hus bortafor.

«VÄr Lucy sendte oss et brev.» Sa herr Black. «Det er jo bra.» Sa Hal fru Black satt seg pÄ gÞlvet og hylgrein.

«Se her er et vedlagt enda et brev.» Sa herr Black og Hal strakk seg etter brevet.

«Hal.» Ropte Lotta «Sett over tevannet, er du snill.»

Lotta synes jeg 
 , som nÄ.

( Lotta thinks I rub some people the wrong way sometimes, like now. )

Utpressingsbrevet

Vil dere se jenta deres? Gi oss skattekartet over web-dev Ăžyene.

Beste Ăžnsker X.

«Hvorfor kom herr og fru Black til Lotta & Hal med det utpressingsbrevet?» SpÞr du.

Vi er Detektiver, Lotta & jeg, Pirat Detektiver.

Hal fora herr og fru Black med pepperkaker, mens DE fortalte sin tÄrevÄte historie.

Om lille Lucy som dru ut for Ă„ gjĂžre en morgenlevering med sjokolade croissanter og aldri blei sett igjen.

«La oss ta oss av dette.» Sa Lotta.

«Vi skal finne dette kartet over de sĂ„kalte ‘Web-Dev’ Ăžyene og

sÄ setter vi opp et bytte, ikke bekymr dere.»

«.»

«.»

«.»

«JAAA! Vi har en ny SAK!» Ropte Hal da vi var aleine.

«Og en tÞff sak.» Sa Lotta tankefullt og klikket pÄ den skarpe fortanna si.

«So what’s our next move boss?» Said Hal. «Have you ever heard of these ‘Web- Dev Islands?» Said Lotta.

«Not a pip, but why should I have? The whole PLACE sounds insanely illegal. “web-dev”! It’s pure Treason , innit.» Hal said.

«Yeah 
 Let’s go have some egg & bacon breakfast down at the Dolphin and see what gossip we can pick up about these ‘Web-Dev Islands’.» I said

So Hal and I popped into the Dodgy Dolphin for a spot of breakfast. As always there was a loud group of musicians and actors drinking at the bar. We ignored them and went to the fireplace. A handfull of sailors were sitting close to the roaring fire. I say “sailors”, but they were proper pirates. We knew them from the “Tarquin Todd case” last summer.

Hal & I brought the pirates a round of grog and a piece of paper with my sketchnoted Web-Dev Islands Treasure Map. Hal & I ate our bacon’n eggs in silence. It’s a mistake to ask a question off of a pirate, she’ll clam up. But shut up yourself and a pirate will start chatting like a magpie. Can’t help herself. Silence is torture to a pirate. Uncle Walsingham told us that.

A hard looking redhead slammed her empty grog on the table.

«Yall heard the one about how ol’Cap’n Crook aaaalmost lost BOTH his hands?» She whispered huskily and pulled a great wad of chewing tobacco out of her upper jaw. I’ve heard several versions, but I wasn’t worried because the tales were all GREAT.

«He wasnae old back then our Cap’n Crook. A beardless cook boy he was. We were boarding a french frigate in the Biscay. Totally legit mind you, we HAD the paperwork. The weather turned treacherous, slapping our ship around. Next thing Captain Pan hisself was down in the drink. Captain Pan floating around unconscious, helpless as a babe in a Bahamas jungle! Young Crook jumped right in after. And wouldn’t you know it a shark showed up instantly. Some say Crook had read about the trick in a book, but anyway the boy punched that shark straight in the snout. The shark gave Crook an insulted stare to the count’o 10. Crook though, didn’t blink. The boy stared right back into that sharky eye, holding his guard up lika pro. That gave the crew juuuust time enough to hoist Captain Pan» Said .

«.» Said . «.» I said «.» Said Hal.