Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
The governor called for evacuations because of an imminent hurricane, so a lot of people ran out of gas on the freeways and got stuck.
George convinced pirates to pick up as many people as they could and sail away to safety.
Of course, the pirates held the people for ransom, but were reasonable and offered hurricane discounts.
And it wasn’t exactly brutal kidnapping, either. Most just partied and had a good time on their boats.
“That was great!” most people said. “I can’t wait for the next hurricane!”

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He’d sit on the rocks by the shore, talking to Cassandra, the last of the mermaids.
They’d trade stories while watching the sun go down.
One day, Cassandra never showed up.
George assumed that she’d gone through The Emerald Gate, never to return.
But she’d actually gotten tangled in a Japanese fishing trawler’s net.
For years, she traveled in a freakshow carnival.
Telling her stories to the crowds.
Leaping through hoops, singing her songs.
George eventually found her, but she was happy with her life.
George smiled and left.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
But he was a genius compared to the dimwits at the drive-through.
George pulled the ship up to the speaker, lowering sails and dropping anchor.
He assumed that the noise was someone trying to say “Can I take your order?”
George read the list he’d gotten from his crewmates, but the speaker kept interrupting him.
“Can’t I just pull up and give you this list?”
More static barely resembling human speech.
George pulled up anyway, and handed over the list.
“Next time, we order Uber Eats,” said the captain.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He never learned The Pirate Code.
So, the time when he ended up in prison, he was woken up by the strange tapping on the stone wall.
He’d summon the guards to complain, and the guards would nod and open the cell next to him.
“I was trying to tell you that we’re breaking out tonight, you idiot!” shouted the prisoner being dragged off.
“Oh, okay!” shouted George back. “Thank you!”
George slept peacefully… until he heard the chiseling in the wall.
He summoned the guards to complain again.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Every time he took his ship into the harbor, he’d end up smashing it into Little Kids Rock, and he’d have to be rescued.
How did the rock get the name “Little Kids Rock?”
Well, not so long ago, a little boy gathered up wood scraps, glued and nailed and lashed them together, and made himself a raft.
He put it in the water, got on board, raised his ragged sail, and drifted out of the harbor.
George’s ship smashed into it.
And then he smashed into the rock.

In dread R’lyeh, Cthulhu lies dreaming.
Well, that is, until the crash of a shipwreck woke him up.
“What the hell was that?” growled the massive tentacled alien beast.
A pirate walked up to him.
“Hi, I’m George,” said George. “I’m lost.”
Cthulhu looked at George with bewilderment.
Nobody has ever looked upon him without going completely mad.
“Don’t you feel the urge to drool and gibber incoherently?”
“Not really.”
Cthulhu gave George directions.
“Thanks,” said George, and he left.
A day later, he returned.
“Was that a left or a right?” he asked.
Cthulhu sighed, and drew a map.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
His priorities were completely out of whack.
“No, George, you can’t have your own parking space,” said the captain. “We’re pirates. We’re always out at sea, plundering. You’ll never need a parking space.”
During the next raid, George somehow managed to plunder a Buick dealership.
“Oh, great,” grumbled George. “Now where will I park this car?”
He tried to park in the captain’s space, but the captain had George’s car towed.
George gave the Buick back to the dealership.
He filled the tank, but he didn’t have it washed.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
After he heard Lyle Lovett’s “If I Had A Boat” he bought himself a pony.
Together, they sailed out on the ocean, and George rode the pony on his boat.
It’s not easy riding a pony on a boat.
I could understand doing it on a big cruise ship.
When George ran into rough seas, and he and the pony fell overboard.
He had to let the pony sink to save himself.
For the rest of the voyage, George missed the pony.
He could have used the horse meat.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
During the American Revolutionary War, he obtained letters of marque from both the colonists and the British Empire, and he stole from pretty much everyone.
When he raided ships leaving England for the Americas, they had a lot of soldiers, weapons, and ammunition.
Those raids didn’t end well.
So, he preferred to raid ships leaving the Americas for England. The soldiers tended to be tired or wounded, and easier to defeat.
Their cargo was worthless: barrels with the preserved bodies of the dead, heading home for a proper burial.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He wasn’t very good at following procedures.
He’d be stacking cannonballs or swabbing the deck, and he’d be told “You’re doing it wrong, stupid. The captain announced a change last week, don’t you remember?”
It happened a lot, and one day. George snapped, screaming “Why doesn’t anybody write this shit down?”
“Because half of the crew can’t read,” growled the captain. “Besides, I’m busy doing other things than meaningless paperwork. You should write them down.”
So, George did. With a permanent marker on the captain’s face while he slept.