Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He spent most of his day sitting in a deck chair, petting the ship’s cat while looking out at the ocean.
The ship’s cat was supposed to catch and eat the mice and rats in the hold, but it preferred to lay in George’s lap and sleep.
Every now and then, George would swab the deck.
The cat would curl up in George’s deck chair and nap.
After George finished swabbing the deck, George would pick up the cat, sit in his chair, and pet the cat some more.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Instead of fighting and looting and pillaging, he’d rub his eyes for a while, and then marvel at the strange colors and patterns that danced before his eyes.
“If you keep doing that, you’ll go blind,” said the captain.
“That’s what my mother said about other things,” said George. “And my eyesight is fine.”
Pretty soon, the entire crew were rubbing their eyes, and watching the strange colors and patterns dance around.
Well, except for the captain. Someone had to steer the ship and watch for vessels to raid.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
When the captain asked him about Net Neutrality, George looked at the netting in the cargo hold and wondered what was so neutered about it.
“It just holds things in place when the seas are rough, right?” said George. “I’m not sure why so many people are so up in arms about this stuff.”
He tugged on the netting a bit to make sure that the cargo was secure, and he smiled proudly.
The captain made a note not to ask George about complicated social and political issues anymore.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
His grip wasn’t very strong, so he was always dropping his cutlass during swordfights.
And when he fired his pistols, the recoil would kick them up and out of his hands.
He tried to tape his sword and pistols to his hands, but that messed up his aim and made it hard to reload the pistols.
The captain gave George a boomerang.
George threw it, and it circled around and hit George in the back of the head, knocking him out.
“Good,” said the captain. “He’s such a complainer.”

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was such a poor pirate, people mistook him for many things other than a pirate.
One gay couple mistook him for a baker, and they demanded that he bake them a wedding cake.
George refused, because he wasn’t a baker.
The couple sued him, and it went all the way up to the Supreme Court.
George lost, so he bought a cake from a professional bakery.
When he delivered it, the couple mistook him for a stripper.
George more than made up for his legal fees in tips.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Other pirates would get tattoos, but George was afraid of needles.
George bought boxes of temporary tattoos, reapplying them every morning.
One morning, he got a little mixed up, and he’d applied the tattoos in the wrong places.
“Didn’t you have the anchor on your arm and the mermaid on your chest yesterday?” said the captain.
George shrugged it off, but when he went to sleep that night, his shipmates found the boxes and completely covered George with tattoos.
George spent hours scrubbing his skin with a pumice stone.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
One day, he played his guitar along with his daily routine.
He was pretty good at it, and his shipmates liked it, and it boosted their morale.
George recruited a few shipmates to back him up, a few guitars, bass, keyboards, and drums.
Backup singers and a horn section, too.
Lights, smoke machines, props, and the sound system required more manpower.
Pretty soon, the ship was a floating psychedelic rock jam experience.
They soon gave up and returned to piracy because it was much more reputable than being musicians.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
The captain paired up George with a more experienced pirate to learn from.
The mentor tried to help George learn from his mistakes and get better.
But after years of frustration, he ended up covering for George’s mistakes.
The mentor recommended that George try meditation.
“Light a candle and focus on the flame,” he said.
So, George did. And he nearly set the ship on fire.
The captain picked up a bucket of sand and put out the fire.
“I’ll get you a battery-powered LED candle, okay?” he said.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Still, it’s better to be lucky that good, right?
Which is how George, having been bound, gagged, and dumped overboard by his shipmates, found himself on a tropical beach.
A strange warrior in a grass skirt and holding a spear gestured at George to follow.
So, George followed him to his village.
As best George could determine, he was going to be the guest of honor at a feast.
“Thank you, I could use a bath,” said George, as they dropped him into a pot full of boiling water.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Compared to the greenhorns that the captain had recruited recently, George was a seasoned seadog.
Hipsters with fedoras, neckbeards, and thick black glasses.
“Pirates are so retro, man,” said one of them, sipping his soy mocha latte.
Another was trying to dance to the crew’s sea shanties. “This is so much better than vinyl.”
Prety soon they got the hang of sea life, and surpassed George’s skills in every way.
So, George tried to emulate them, and failed.
“MANBUN OVERBOARD!” shouted a hipster, rescuing George by his hemp belt.