George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Nobody liked him.
Every Valentine’s Day, the other pirates’ hats would be full of valentines.
George’s would be empty.
All George wanted was one. Even if it was just a black X on a scrap of paper, you know, because most pirates can’t write or read.
Then, one year, George got a valentine.
Which pirate was it?
Probably not one of the guys he’d mistakenly stabbed or slashed or shot with a cannon or knocked overboard.
It didn’t matter. George was happy.
And he had the best day ever.