Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He wasn’t a very good poet either.
He tried to write a poem about pirates,
But nothing rhymes well with pirate.
Well, maybe admire it. And retire it.
“What about other languages?” said the captain. “Spanish for pirate is pirata. Lots of Spanish words rhyme with it.”
“I don’t know Spanish,” said George.
“In French, pirate is… pirate,” said the captain. “But I’m sure there’s lots of French words that rhyme with it.”
“I don’t know French, either,” said George.
Nobody told George that poetry doesn’t have to rhyme.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Other pirates would drink all night, and then wreck their rowboats on the way back to the ship.
George usually ended up as a designated rower, or he’d call an Uber rowboat, even though he never drank excessively like others did.
His shipmates mocked him for his cautiousness.
“You’re a pirate!” they shouted. “You’re supposed to be drunk and careless!”
George stuck to his routine, and he got back to the ship safely.
Just in time to throw life preservers out to his reckless shipmates, thrashing in the water.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
The captain quickly realized that George wasn’t very good at sailing, pillaging, and fighting.
So he made George the Morale Officer.
George spent his time making fresh lemonade for his mateys, asking them how they were feeling, and arranging activities such as Game Night.
A trip to the zoo, however, turned out disastrously.
The pirates ransacked the zoo, cooking and eating the various endangered animals housed there.
They woke up from their drunken stupors, locked in the gorilla cages.
George crossed out “Gorillas” from the sign and wrote “Pirates.”

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
When he answers pirate-related questions on Quora and Yahoo Answers, his posts are vague and confusing.
And people downvote him on Reddit all of the time.
The editors of WikiPedia routinely roll back his updates and changes.
And I’ve yet to see an instructional video of his on YouTube that hasn’t been a magnet for thumbs down and nasty comments.
George mostly stays offline these days, communicating with family through a email and a private Facebook profile.
He flings another bird in Angry Birds and watches the structures collapse.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He wasted a lot of time on things like Fermi’s Paradox.
“If there’s intelligent life in the universe, where is it?” asked George.
He drew up Drake’s Equation on a chalkboard and played with the numbers.
His conclusions were grim.
“By my calculations, there should be absolutely no intelligent life in the universe.”
“That’s nice,” said the captain. “But if you haven’t noticed, we’re trying to take over a Spanish galleon. Mind picking up a cutlass and helping?”
George picked up his cutlass and lowered the “civilization survivability” variable.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Certainly not good enough for The League of The Black Skull.
You’ve never heard of The League of The Black Skull?
Well, that’s because George made it up.
George was always telling his crewmates about how he was being recruited for the secretive League of The Black Skull.
“Never heard of it,” they said.
“That’s because they’re so secretive,” said George.
“Well, if you’re talking about it, and they’re secretive, they probably won’t recruit you,” said the captain.
George slumped and sighed.
The captain fingered his Black Skull ring.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
“Open your eyes, George, said a voice.
George opened his eyes, and he saw a doctor’s office.
“Why are you here?” asked the doctor.
“To make me a better pirate,” said George.
“Well, I’m here to make you better,” said the doctor. “But not a pirate.”
“I’M A PIRATE!” shouted George.
George felt strong hands hold him, and a needle slide in his arm.
His shouting became a whisper.
“I’m a pirate… I’m a pirate…”
He felt calm, like a ship on the water.
And he was a pirate.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
All the other pirates didn’t think much of George.
None of them were his Facebook friends.
He’d send friend requests out, but nobody accepted them.
They didn’t let him into the ship’s private group or let him post on the public page.
After a while, George gave up trying.
He became less enthusiastic about being a pirate.
He growled and scowled at his crewmates, sneaking more than his share of treasure.
And he occasionally treated their captives in a cruel manner.
“There’s hope for him yet,” said the captain.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was sick of having to watch broadcast television shows, so he stole cable from the harbormaster’s office.
This severely limited the ship’s range, or it ended up yanking out the cable.
So, George stole a satellite television subscription.
Which wasn’t much use, because the boat rolled with the waves, disrupting satellite tracking.
George then stole a Marine VSAT dish, which tracked satellites automatically with computers and GPS.
“We be stealing television!” growled George. “Yarr.”
The captain reminded him about stealing treasure.
“That would be nice too,” said George.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He liked to cover himself with phosphorescent seaweed and wander around the ship, moaning like a ghost.
“Cut it out, George,” said the captain.
George stopped bothering his crewmates and sulked.
But that night, George roamed the docks and the streets, annoying the locals.
“I am the ghost of George the Pirate!” he yelled. “BOOOOOOOOOO!”
“Who?” asked a prostitute.
“George,” said George. “I’m a pirate ghost.”
“Whatever,” said the prostitute. “Five pieces of eight for this piece of ass.”
It was amazing what she could do with phosphorescent seaweed.