Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
When George wasn’t out on the high seas, he was in the wrestling ring under the name of The Almighty George.
George was as good a wrestler as he was a pirate, so he lost a lot of matches and collected many cuts and bruises.
So George became a heel and patsy, making hero wrestlers look good by beating him.
Doormat George was dragged around so many rings, thrown against every turnbuckle and rope, and pinned to every mat.
George returned to the ship and hung up his mask.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He wrecked the ship for the umpteenth time, finding himself stranded on an island with no food and no fresh water.
He sorted through the wreckage washing ashore, salvaging what he could.
There was some rum, some hardtack.
It kept him going as he assembled the wood and rope into a crude raft.
By the time he finished the raft, another pirate ship was sailing by the island.
George lit the raft on fire and shouted to signal them.
But it was too late. The ship kept sailing on.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He’d been to a lot of cities all across the world, eating exotic foods and meeting strange and mysterious people, and every time he’d buy a fare card for the bus or the subway.
After a while, he had fare cards for dozens of cities, and he couldn’t remember which one was for which place.
So many colors and logos.
Oyster, Q Pass… who knew what these meant? Is this one for Boston? New York? Paris? Rome?
George made a few bucks selling the empty cards to unsuspecting tourists.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
This didn’t matter to the producer of Eyewitness News at 11.
They put an eyepatch on George, but it made it hard for him to read the Teleprompter.
And the false hook they put on his hand made it hard for him to hold the scripts.
“Why do I have scripts if there’s a Teleprompter?” he asked.
George got bored reading scripts to a camera.
He wanted to report from battles and adventures.
So, the producer changed George’s title to field correspondent, but he never sent back any reports.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a good pirate.
But compared to other pirates, he wasn’t half bad looking.
So the publisher of The Pirate Calendar gave George a call and asked if he wanted to be in the next year’s calendar.
George agreed, and got fifty bucks for a two hour photoshoot.
When the calendar finally came out, George was disappointed to see that he was Mister February.
And it wasn’t even a leap year.
Nobody ever recognized him or asked him to sign his photo in the calendar.
And the next year, the calendar publisher didn’t call.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He never quite got a hang of pirate-speak.
His parrot Fred, on the other hand, spoke pirate-speak fluently.
And the parrot would correct George’s speech.
“That’s pieces of eight,” said Fred. “Not pieces of seven, you dummy.”
After a while, George stopped talking, but the parrot would persist with his verbal abuse.
George refused to give in, so the obnoxious parrot began to mimic George’s voice saying stupid things.
Completely fed up, George made Fred walk the plank.
“You do know I can fly, right?” said the parrot, laughing.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was obsessed with werewolves, and he carried a gun and a bag full of silver bullets.
Every full moon, he’d completely lose his shit and shoot everything in sight.
“WEREWOLVES!” shouted George, firing off a few rounds at a lamp.
“Please stop destroying the furniture, George,” said the captain. “But if you must, try to conserve ammunition for real werewolves.”
“WEREWOLF!” shouted George, pointing the gun at the captain and pulling the trigger.
But he’d wasted all of his ammo on the lamp, and his gun was empty.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
When a massive waterspout appeared in front of the ship, George failed to steer clear of it.
The ship spun up into the funnel and came crashing down on a town full of midgets.
After looting the gold and jewels from the ruins, George followed a yellow road for hours
He killed a dancing scarecrow and a lion before reaching a strange green castle.
Inside, he found an old man with a hot air balloon.
George hijacked it, and flew for hours.
Below, Krakatoa began to smoke and rumble.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Sometimes, when he was performing a task, like making his bunk or swabbing the deck, he got fed up with all of the nitpicky details and steps.
“This is like playing Jenga with cow turds,” he growled.
So, he’d skip steps and get the job done quicker.
This was fine-and-dandy for simple things, but when it came to cleaning the cannon or arranging the powder room, one mistake could cost lives.
“What about two or three mistakes?” asked George.
As if in response, the ship exploded and blew apart.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Because of all the problems George caused, the captain suggested that George train for the Winter Olympics.
So, George packed his bags and headed to the gym.
He worked out constantly, and his trainers got him into the best shape of his life.
However, George had an aversion to the snow and cold.
And he wasn’t all that good on skis.
Eventually, George found the perfect place for his talents.
“Welcome to McDonalds!” said George, in his nice new uniform at the Olympic Village. “May I take your order?”