Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Whenever he failed, he’d quote inventor Elon Musk:
“Failure is an option here. If things are not failing, you are not innovating enough.”
The captain would point out that George had failed to make his bunk, cook breakfast for the crew, swab the deck, and raise the alarm that the British Navy was rapidly approaching from starboard.
George picked up a mop and began to swab the deck.
“Oh, good,” said the captain. “It’ll be nice and clean when they execute us for piracy.”
That made George feel accomplished.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
As for finding the nightlife, well, that was something George knew.
After a hard night in the library looking up new designs for ships and sails and cannon, he’d stop by the Church of Hot Wax.
Mistress Suzanne would walk down the aisle, clad in skintight leather and a mask, tapping her worshippers on the chest with the butt of her whip.
“You,” she said to George.
When people asked George about the bruises and scars, he’d say “You should see the other guy.”
And he’d just barely smile.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
People accused George of being lazy, but George always felt tired.
Maybe it was an iron deficiency? Or some sort of hormonal issue?
Perhaps George’s immune system was weak?
And then there was the constant stress of other pirates bullying George and calling him lazy.
This caused George to worry, causing even more stress.
It was a vicious cycle. George became worse and worse of a pirate.
The depression turned suicidal, and he tried to walk the plank.
Right on to the ship.
He couldn’t even get that right.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Instead of sailing the seven seas, plundering and looting, he spent a lot of time with his realtor, looking at houses.
There was always something wrong with the property… too much noise, poor school system, a seedy neighborhood.
There was always an excuse to keep looking.
One day, after a long walkthrough, George was happy.
Nothing was wrong with the house. The owners were looking to move out and sell quickly.
“It’s perfect,” said George. The long-frustrated realtor was delighted.
Until George’s shipmates showed up and looted the place.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
In the middle of one battle, he put down his cutlass, started a fire, and began cooking some beans.
“What the hell are you doing?” said the captain. “Do you want to get shot?”
“Come on,” said George. “I’m making enough to share.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said the captain.
“But I’m putting lots of ketchup in it this time,” said George. “And those cut-up hot dogs you like.”
After the battle, the surviving pirates sat down to a homestyle campfire dinner.
The captain asked for more ketchup.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was kinda scruffy and goofy-looking. He resembled a Muppet version of a pirate.
Not one of those traditional hand-puppet Muppets. You know, the ones with the puppeteer crouched under the stage, or one puppeteer working the hand and mouth while a second puppeteer works the other hand.
Or that stupid prawn, the one that uses rods and sticks to manipulate.
He was more of a big ol scruffy freestanding Muppet, like the Sweetums monster or Big Bird or Snuffleupagus.
The rest of the crew, they looked like pirates.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
There were other pirates on the ship who weren’t very good, but they deflected any criticism by blaming George’s incompetence.
As any good mediator knows, deflecting and sidetracking doesn’t solve the core problem, and George didn’t handle the stress well.
Which made George even more of a target for blame.
After a while, things got really bad.
George hid in his bunk.
Of course, things weren’t getting any better.
Eventually, the captain recognized what was going on.
“Get back to work,” said the captain. “I need someone to blame!”

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
There was a pirate who was even worse than George, though.
He called everyone “Bro” and tried to give out fist-bumps to everyone.
An even bigger landlubber than George, who talked big but couldn’t hold his own.
Everyone called him a phony and a poser.
Except for George. He just let the guy bluster.
“Don’t tell me how to load a musket!” he growled. “I’ve been shooting muskets for years!”
The musket exploded, killing the rookie.
George rifled through his pockets and threw his body overboard.
“See ya, Bro.”

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
The captain always left George behind when he put together landing parties for raids.
“Watch the ship,” he said. “And don’t touch anything.”
George stood on the deck and did nothing.
He was good at doing nothing.
When the captain and the landing party returned from their raids, bringing back treasure, they were surprised that nothing awful had happened in their absence.
“Nothing’s on fire,” said the captain. “The ship hasn’t sunk. Everything’s fine.”
Nothing bad ever happened when George stayed behind.
George became the ship’s good luck charm.