George eats local

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He sailed the world, adventuring with his shipmates.
But unlike them, he would take in local culture and cuisine.
He’d be sipping coffee at a sidewalk cafe or enjoying some delicacy in a hole-in-the-wall while they’d be lining up at the McDonalds for a Big Mac and fries.
And then they’d plunder and loot the place, burning it to the ground.
George didn’t try to convince his crewmates that going local was better than franchise food.
Because he didn’t want them plundering, looting, and burning his favorite places, too.

Lisa – Empty Click

TOAST

The house felt empty when the first responders forced the door but found Paul unconscious on the kitchen floor. They fired up the defibrillator; heard the click that signaled it was ready, then waited for the green light.
“Clear!”
Paul’s body jerked but was unresponsive. The room filled with Ambulance Staff, Police, Family. A toaster, tethered by its plug, was hanging off the side; his Mum put back in its place. The job got harder the smaller the room became but they continued well after they needed to.
No one ever noticed the screwdriver that had rolled under the cooker.

George wasting time on facebook

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He spent most of his time on Facebook, telling his friends about his adventures.
Instead of actually doing anything. You know, like pillaging, looting, and plundering.
This annoyed the hell out of his shipmates, and they cut off his access to the ship’s WiFi.
But even the Guest access could access Facebook.
“It’s so that the people we kidnap for ransom can beg their relatives for money,” said the captain. “Or they can start a Kickstarter or something.”
The frustrated crew threw George’s laptop overboard. Then they threw George.

Weekly Challenge #988 – Give it all, Empty, Churrasco, Fiendishly difficult, Click

The next topic is Server

RICHARD

— Cross words —
Today’s crossword was fiendishly difficult. I’d spent twenty minutes trying to figure out six across: ‘Beginning with Spanish dippers, at Brazilian barbecue?’
I didn’t have a clue.
My wife peered over my shoulder, “Churrasco!” she said brightly.
“What?”
“The beginning of Spanish dippers… churros, and the Brazil barbecue thing… churrasco.”
She smiled disarmingly, whilst I plotted various ways of murdering her, without getting caught.
“OK, Brains”, I retorted, “Try this. Two words, four and three – last one, ‘O-F-F'”
She gave me her unimpressed look.
“In that case, you’ll find your dinner in the T, something, A, something, H!”

THOMAS

Churrasco

Gus had always loved a good churrasco, but grilling at home was fiendishly difficult now. His hands, butter-fingered with age, trembled as he tried to flip the steaks with tongs. The searing heat made him sweat, and balancing on two canes didn’t help. The first steak slid right off the grill. Cursing, he shuffled to retrieve it, nearly tipping over. His dog, Bruno, snagged the fallen prize. “Guess it’s yours now,” Gus muttered. By the time he managed a perfectly charred picanha, exhaustion won. Still, biting into the smoky meat, he grinned. Victory, however small, still tasted sweet.

TOM

Empty Click
I’m pretty sure the term Click is met with an empty response. Well, I
seem to be sore fully mistaken. The students of this century identified
as 12 general “crowds” in modern high schools: populars, jocks,
floaters, good-ats, fine arts, brains, normals, druggies-stoners,
emo/goths, anime-manga kids, and loners. It’s been half a century since
I did my click streaming, but without the exception of emo/goths and
anime-manga kids I could pretty much Id one on sight. For myself I
crossed two of these sub-groups during my high school stay: fine art and
brains. I actually graduating magna cum laude from university.

SERENDIPIDY

Dear Friend.
I was given your name by a mutual acquaintance, as a trustworthy and honest person.
I have sixteen million dollars in a bank account I need to take out of my country, but I need a sponsor for my government to authorise the transfer.
Half of that sum is reserved in your name if you are willing to help. I promise you, that if you assist me in this matter, I will give it all -Eight million- dollars to you for your kindness.
Please click on this link, to start the online transfer process.
Sincerely.
Prince Hakim Hassan.
—

NORVAL JOE

Billbert spun to face Sabrina. “What are you doing? I wasn’t going to tell them you were here.”

“I know,” she dropped her head sadly. “Your family has a reputation to maintain. I don’t want you to give it all up because of me.”

“Good.” The woman stood up. “Get your things. The family is waiting.”

Sabrina went upstairs.

“Where is she going?” Billbert asked, feeling empty.

“I can’t tell you,” Calabassa said. “Privacy concerns.”

“She’s my friend. I have the right to know!” Billbert voice rose in pitch.

She sneered. “No. You’re a little boy. You have no rights.”

PLANET Z

Even though I have a treadmill at home, I still like to walk in the rain. I get out my wet weather shoes and umbrella and put on my headphones and head out the door. There is something about the breeze and the moisture that’s refreshing. And walking through a space with trees and grass and everything else is a lot more engaging and feeling than simply walking on a treadmill, even if there’s a TV playing with a movie or scenery in which I try to lose myself. What’s a few allergy or cold pills in the end, right?

George the best man

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
You know how there’s no such thing as “bad” pizza or blowjob?
Well, don’t ask George to handle your bachelor party.
Rummy Bill learned that lesson the hard way.
One pizza. One stripper.
And the stripper turned out to be his fiancee’s sister.
She ate all of the pizza and threatened to tell her sister about the party.
Rummy Bill paid her off, but the next day, the wedding was off.
The sister snitched.
As Best Man, George felt relieved. Renting a tux was so damn expensive, you know?

George outsourced

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Which is why the captain teamed him with a group of H1-B foreign workers, who asked him a lot of questions and took a lot of notes.
“You’re going to outsource my job, aren’t you?” George asked the captain.
“No, I’d never do that” said the captain.
Instead, he replaced George with a robot.
The foreign workers programmed it with everything George did.
The problem was, George did everything wrong, so the robot did everything wrong.
When the robot fell overboard, unlike George, who could float, the robot sank.

George is bad cargo

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
One day, he and his shipmates took over a cargo vessel, filled with wooden crates marked “covfefe.”
“Did they just spell coffee wrong?” asked the captain.
“I don’t know,” said George. “Maybe we should open one of them?”
The captain agreed, and George got out a crowbar to open a crate.
That’s when he heard… something… something strange.
Claws scratching on wood. The snarling of a wild beast.
Two days later, the Royal Navy found George adrift in a lifeboat, covered in blood.
All he could say was “covfefe.”

George the dancer

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He worked off his frustrations by performing interpretive dance.
Along the pier, he’d twirl and leap and tumble, throwing his hands to the sky and screaming.
After a while, he got pretty good at it.
Pirates from all around would dock at the pier and watch George, and they’d applaud and give him money.
They became big productions, with a full stage, set designers, stage lighting, and a full orchestra.
It caused George so many headaches and frustrations.
So, he worked off his frustrations by being a pirate again.

George the fake

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Some suggested that he was some sort of agent, spying on pirates for the Royal Navy.
Which would explain George’s lack of pirating skills.
And the Royal Navy tattoo on his arm.
Oh, and the fact that all his mail was addressed to “Undercover Royal Navy Agent.”
George would take that mail and say “Oh, that must be a mistake. I’ll bring it back to the post office.”
He’d write notes in a little notebook, and take pictures of things.
“It’s an exchange program,” said the captain. “Don’t ask”

George loves Mondays

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
But he more than made up for it with enthusiasm.
Unlike other pirates, who moaned and groaned about Mondays, George wished every day was Monday.
He’d jump out of his bunk, ready to face the day’s challenges.
Not that Monday was any different than any other day of the week at sea.
Pirates don’t get weekends off.
Nor do they get holidays or sick time.
It’s not that pirates weren’t unionized or organized.
They just weren’t good at reading calendars.
Not that George cared. Every day was an adventure!