George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He walked along a beach, thrust a flag pole into the sand, and he proclaimed:
I CLAIM THIS LAND IN THE NAME OF THE PIRATE NATION!
A crowd surrounded George… and took selfies with him.
And they tossed coins and currency into a basket by the flag pole.
Some looked up his merch site on the web… plastic cutlasses, little George pirate dolls.
After a few minutes, George pulled up the flag pole, picked up the basket, and went back to the bar.
To wait for the next show.
Author: R.
George’s deathbed
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Not that this mattered to George.
George knew lots of good pirates, and a few great ones, too.
Many of them were dead.
None of them spent their last moments wishing that they’d been better pirates.
Maybe a few wished that they’d been better swordsmen so they could have blocked the slash or thrust that eventually killed them.
And the ones who drowned, they probably wished they’d learned to swim.
“So what if I’m a lousy pirate?” thought George. “I’m alive.”
He smiled happily as he swabbed the deck.
George in the library
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
While the ship was in dock for repairs, all of the other pirates wenched and caroused and made nuisances of themselves.
George preferred to spend his time in libraries, poring through old illuminated manuscripts and ancient scrolls.
“Are you looking for clues to buried treasure?” asked a monk.
“Yes,” said George. “The greatest treasure can be found in libraries.”
The monk patted George on the back and went back to his prayers.
George smiled, slipped another book into his satchel, and went to the stacks for more to steal.
George’s endless cycle
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He spent a lot of time in port, waiting for opportunities to loot, pillage, and steal.
But there weren’t many these days.
Bored, he cut a section of canvas from his sails.
Then he’d wet and stretch it over a wooden frame he made from the timbers of his ship.
And he’d paint.
He sold his paintings to tourists, and by the time he ran out of sailcloth and timbers from his ship, he’d made enough money to buy a new ship.
And he’d get bored all over again.
Weekly Challenge #893 – Moisture
The topic of the next weekly challenge is Stand
RICHARD
Alan
Alan always had to be right.
What do you want to go to the rainforest for? You won’t enjoy it?’
That’s putting it mildly: I’d hated every second of the trip.
You’ll almost certainly get lost!’
Right, again. I’d never been more lost in my life.
You probably won’t make it back.’
Unfortunately, that was certainly beginning to look like a real possibility.
It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity that’ll kill you.’
Almost right. The moisture that filled the air, made it hard to breathe; but, it wouldn’t kill me.
However the snake bite would.
Not always right, Alan!
LISA
A Thermos Flask Borrowed off Nanna
It’s 1982. The car journey from Leicester to Dad’s mate’s caravan in Cornwall takes roughly 400 years. We go every year. My younger brother is exploring the moist contents of his nostrils, and on the other side of me the older one is reading a well illustrated book about insects.
At the services we stare at a poster for iced coke while a cup of tea, that tastes more of plastic cup than tea, is passed around. A big lorry rumbles past and the thermos falls off the dashboard and smashes.
It proves to be the highlight of the holiday.
LIZZIE
Plants need a lot of moisture. So, he bought an industrial moisturizing machine for his greenhouse. The plants were happy. Their growth was impressive, he had to admit. At some point, he thought about removing the moisturizer but he went on vacation and forgot about it completely. When he got back, the roof of the greenhouse had burst open. Everything was of an industrial size, the plants, some birds that flew inside, even the ants. He should’ve suspected. That’s why the damn moisturizer was so cheap. It was all over the news. Industrial contamination was turning everything into giants, people included.
SERENDIPIDY
The car might have been abandoned, but the ticking of the engine as it cooled, and the occasional, almost imperceptible rocking on its suspension told me it was just parked up.
Not many cars made it this deep into the forest.
I approached cautiously.
A film of moisture obscured the inside of the windows; they were clearly enjoying themselves, and were completely oblivious to my presence.
Hand, resting lightly on the door handle, I wondered if they’d plead for mercy, or run for their lives.
Either way, it would be good sport.
And I was the one holding the shotgun.
TOM
Not Happy
If you come from Chicago or New York, you think your pretty much humidity badass. Heat – wet got that covered. Power through, get the job done, wring out your shirt, flip on the AC. I had no idea there was a place on earth that excelled in full impact Moisture. In Florida I met my match. It’s bad enough your body is coat 24 -7 multiple layers of perpetual film, but every centimeter of your lungs are drowning in wet. Actually, film would be a kind description, goo would be more accurate. Give me phoenix where moisture work in your favor.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert took a hand of each of the girl’s in his and jumped into the air. None of them went anywhere and the teenage knights were running their direction. Moisture breaking out across his forehead, he tried again. And again, they remained firmly on the spongy forest soil.
Linoliamanda dropped Billbert’s hand. “Take Sabrina. They don’t really want me. I’ll be okay.”
Sabrina’s eyes lit up. “You heard the girl. Let’s go.”
“No!” To Sabrina’s shock, he shook off her grip and then grasped Linoliamanda’s hand again.
Sabrina looked like she would cry, until Billbert said, “Now, take Linoliamanda’s hand.”
PLANET Z
It rained last night.
I’d gotten my car washed.
The guy with the sticker scanner asked about the paint scrape on the left side.
Where I’d hit the pole at the electric charger.
“We can buff that out,” he said.
The scrape was down to the primer, no way they could do that.
Needed to go to the dealer for a new panel.
I didn’t respond, I just drove up to the car wash track, put it in neutral.
After the wash, I drove home and parked out in the lot.
No cover. No trees.
And it rained last night.
George’s panic attack
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
And he knew it.
When the captain said that he wanted to talk to George, George’s mind began to race.
What did he do now? How much trouble was he in?
Was he going to be fired, and forced to clear out his bunk, and have to walk past his shipmates in shame?
Or even worse, made to walk the plank into shark-infested waters?
George panicked and collapsed.
The captain sighed, and left George’s teddybear in his arm.
“Fool keeps leaving it in the galley,” he mumbled to himself.
George the Pirates fan
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was a good Pittsburgh Pirates fan, though.
Every now and then, he went to the games, and people mistook him as the mascot.
They’d take selfies with George.
Usually, it was kids. Or drunk fans.
George made a lot of tips this way.
Soon, other pirates went to the ballpark, looking for easy money.
The team tried to ban pirates from the games, but they had trouble telling the difference between pirates and fans.
So, they hired George as a consultant.
He made even more money this way.
Shiver George’s timbers
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He spent a lot of time looking at timbers, watching to see if they would shiver.
The timbers just sat there, doing nothing.
“You do know that saying comes from ships in heavy seas,” said the captain. “The ship crests a wave and crashes back down so hard, the timbers shake.”
The next time the ship was in heavy seas, the captain tried to point out how the timbers shook after each time they crashed back down from a wave.
But George was too busy throwing up to watch.
Some girl I met online/Hopeless – Serendipidy
He didn’t realise I was within earshot when his mates asked him how we’d got together.
“Oh, just some girl I met online. You know me, hopeless romantic!”
“Hopeless, yes” countered one of the girls, “romantic? No! You’re only after one thing, and once she gives in, you’ll dump her. You always do!”
So, that was his plan? Well, we’d see about that.
I checked inside my purse and smiled at the glint of my favourite knife, ready for action.
Perhaps tonight I’d give in.
And boy, would he ever regret meeting that girl online, when I’d finished with him!
George vs. Lafitte
Eighteen years ago, I started this podcast.
I’m just as surprised as you are that it’s still going.
———
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He interviewed to join Campeche in Galveston, but Jean Lafitte personally rejected the application and had him thrown overboard from The Pride.
George crawled to shore, and Lafitte’s men pointed at George and laughed.
When George got back to his ship, he pulled a handful of documents out from under his shirt.
He’d stolen the letters of marque from Lafitte.
Lafitte ordered his men to hunt down and kill George.
But the US Navy had them bottled in, and they ordered Lafitte’s surrender.
La Maison Rouge was set ablaze.