Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Even though stores in New Orleans sell replicas of the street signs, people want the real deal.
So, George went out with a hacksaw and a burlap sack to collect the actual street signs.
After George filled his burlap sack, he got lost because there weren’t any street signs.
“Siri, how do I get back to the ship?” he asked his iPhone.
No response. The battery was dead.
After he got arrested by the police, he used the police station’s phone to call the captain to bail him out.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Other pirates had scars and rashes and sunburn.
George’s skin was smooth and flawless.
He never went outside without waterproof sunblock.
And he covered his face with a bandanna to protect it against the sun and wind and sea spray.
“Are you going to cut holes in it so you can see?” asked the captain.
“Only when I can find a pair of sunglasses with full ultraviolet protection,” said George, feeling around.
“Oh, they’re over here,” said the captain, leading him to the railing.
And he pushed George overboard.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He didn’t like to loot and pillage like other pirates.
Instead, he liked to run his lemonade stand.
After all, sailors need Vitamin C to prevent scurvy, so might as well make it convenient and refreshing.
Even if sailors had their own supply of lemons and limes, there was something special about George’s lemonade that made it so popular.
Many came from all around to buy George’s lemonade.
After George retired from the lemonade stand, he finally divulged his secret ingredient.
“Rum,” said George, winking.
(Actually, it was vodka.)

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He heard stories of Blackbeard, who put candles and cannon fuses in his beard, giving off a thick black cloud that made him look like a demonic figure.
So, before the next battle, George covered himself with candles and cannon fuses, and lit them.
George was quickly engulfed in flames, and he ran around screaming.
The men on the other ship thought George was a demonic figure and quickly surrendered.
George’s shipmates knocked him overboard, dowsing the painful flames.
“He’s an idiot,” said the captain. “But a useful idiot.”

George was a pirate…
Well, more like he used to be a pirate.
George was always forgetting things.
But it became much worse over the years.
He’d just stand there, confused.
Right there in the middle of battle, in his underwear.
“Oh, right,” he’d say. “Yes.” And just stand there.
“Early onset dementia” is what the doctors said.
His shipmates came to visit him in the home.
“I’m Rummy Bill, remember?” said Rummy Bill, offering a swig from his jug of rum.
He didn’t remember.
Now, they say George was a great pirate.
Love makes people forget the bad times.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He had a lot of knowledge about piracy, but it was book knowledge, not experience.
For some things, you need that practical hands-on knowledge and years of experience.
Piracy is one of those. Heck, George even read that in a book.
So, George put the book down, and started to pillage and loot the library.
“SSSSSSHHHHHH!” hissed the librarian.
George apologized, and tried to pillage and loot quietly.
After a while, George became an expert at pillaging and looting quietly.
“Yar,” he’d whisper, and tiptoe softly as he plundered.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
While good pirates swing from ropes to board a vessel, George was obsessed with doing this with a hang glider.
Usually, he’d get stuck in the rigging.
Other times, he’d jump too soon, and end up crashing into the ocean.
Or a gust of wind would carry him miles away, and then he’d crash into the ocean.
“Why can’t you swing from a rope like everybody else, George?” asked the captain.
So, George got a rope. And tied it to his hang glider.
He crashed into the ocean again.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Where other pirates would yo ho ho and a bottle of rum, George preferred a glass of dry white wine.
George made sure to bring his own, because most pirate dives don’t carry much more than rum and grog.
However, he wasn’t good about bringing a corkscrew.
His dagger was to big to dig out the cork, and his cutlass was bigger than his dagger.
“Have you got a corkscrew?” he’d ask his shipmates.
He’d always have to resort to borrowing Lefty McGinty’s hook-hand.
Lefty bought George a corkscrew.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He had bad dreams, of towns on fire… women and children screaming and running from the flames.
George woke up in a cold sweat, shaking and trembling.
When they were about to raid a town, George would feel queasy and he’d throw up.
His hands would sweat, he’d lose his grip on his cutlass.
He studied medicine, hoping to become the ship’s surgeon, but the sight of blood made him sick.
“Avast, quiet ye scurvy dogs!” the captain hissed. “Ready the cannon for a broadsides!”
George felt sick again.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He had a hard time sleeping.
His doctor checked him for sleep apnea, but George kept himself fit and lean.
He was fine during the sleep study, too.
So, the doctor recommended a relaxing herbal tea, and that George get an ambient noise generator.
The herbal tea was soothing, and the noise generator produced the sound of the ocean waves.
Which is silly, when you think of it.
George, laying there in his bunk, right under a porthole, and using a noise generator instead of just opening the porthole.