Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He came from a long line of not very good pirates.
Neckbeard was a notorious rogue, notorious for his inability to fit into his breeches.
Calico Fred had a hard time distinguishing port from starboard and bow from stern.
The Barbarossa Sisters used to take each other’s crews prisoner.
And Sir Francis Gander retired with two peg legs, two hook hands, two eyepatches, and a lot of medical bills.
George didn’t go to many family reunions.
Not that he didn’t try. He wasn’t very good at reading the map.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He learned early on that he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Bath Night was every Sunday, he’d take all his bath toys into the bath with him.
Every Sunday, his pirate ship had adventures on the high seas in his tub.
He’d slosh the water into tidal waves, and ship and men sank to the bottom, eaten by his toy sharks.
The water would splash everywhere, causing mold and rot.
“Look what you’ve done,” shouted George’s parents.
Eventually, George was forced to hose himself off in the back yard.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
The Captain considered George to be “Second Squad.”
It consisted of George, the cabin boy, Blind Joe, and Cook, who only spoke bits of Dutch.
Nobody else on the boat spoke Dutch, so that didn’t matter much, really.
In battle, sometimes, The Captain would call for the cabin boy to lend a hand.
“What about me?” said George. “I bought a new sword, and I’d hate for it to go to waste.”
The Captain thought this over.
“You’re right, George,” he said. “Lend your sword to the cabin boy.”

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He fell overboard a lot. So often, George’s shipmates insisted that he always wear a life jacket, safety rope, and an emergency beacon.
It made hauling George back into the boat a lot easier.
Even when George was on dry land, his shipmates insisted that he wear all of the safety equipment.
“Just in case,” they said.
One night, while George was sleeping at an inn, a huge tidal wave washed George out of his bed and out to sea.
George gave the inn a negative review on Yelp.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was always causing accidents or getting injured.
He filed a lot of Workman’s Compensation claims.
And he raised everybody’s insurance premiums on the ship’s group plan.
He wasn’t allowed anywhere near the wheel. Or the tiller.
God help everyone if he was allowed near the Powder Room again.
Eventually, The Captain took away all of George’s duties except for the “This Ship Has Been Injury Free” sign that counted days since the last reported injury.
The sign fell on George, and he had to be taken to sickbay.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He could spot good talent, though.
Several of the cabin boys he’d found at local schools had grown up to become great pirates.
George was proud of them, even though they weren’t exactly proud of owing their careers to George.
George would send them birthday and Christmas cards, out of genuine fondness, not out of some selfish attempt to network.
And those pirates would open the envelope, read the card, and know that someone cared and remembered them.
Even if that someone was an incompetent, bumbling screw-up like George.

Dead men tell no tales! warns the pirate’s skull as our boat tips down the slide and we float past scene after scene of skeletons, treasure, and wreckage.
Not if you depose them first, I mumble.
The trial is four days away. To get my mind off of this, I went down to Disneyland, like I always do.
New name. New face. New credit cards.
What do I have to worry about?
As I key in my access code to Club 33, a fat man in tourist clothes puts a knife in my back.
My E Ticket just got punched.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
On paper, he was really good.
His certificate from Pirate Summer Camp.
A sash full of Pirate Scout Merit Badges.
Several bronze medals from the Pirate Olympics.
And a degree in piracy from a well-respected correspondence college.
But on the ship, he was a complete disaster.
He wet the bunk, he broke his cutlass, and his bandanna kept coming loose at the worst times.
“Tie it in the back, you idiot,” said the captain.
Despite repeated attempts to sneak him with hostages, the British Navy kept sending him back.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Whenever he pillaged, he gave out receipts so the homeowner could claim the loss on their insurance.
And he was too much of a gentleman to do the whole raping thing.
As for plundering, well, isn’t that just another word for pillaging?
“There’s a difference,” said the captain, pulling out a pair of dictionaries. “One of these, I pillaged. The other, I plundered.”
George pulled out a thesaurus. “Pillage. Plunder, Ransack. Loot.” He snapped the book shut. “They’re all the same thing.”
The captain growled, and threw George overboard.