Another Good Friday

Friday. Good Friday again. Three Easters since the shanty opened under Hay Street Mall, and I still have the hot cross bun the parrot did not finish. It is a keepsake now.

Today a young man in a crew of six went pale halfway through and said he had had enough. Not frightened, just done. He pressed the button by the door, the one I made sure the captain never noticed, and a gamesmaster had him out before he could change his mind.

His crew carried on. They found the treasure. He watched the last ten minutes from the lobby with a cup of water and cheered when they came out, so in the end he escaped first, which I pointed out to him.

The cameras see everything in here. That makes the captain feel powerful and makes me feel better. Nobody on this island is ever really on their own, even when the door is shut.

The captain asked why there is a button in his hideout. I said fire regulations. He said pirates do not have fire regulations. I said these ones do.