Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day

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.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
After several failed attempts to pillage, loot, and plunder, George consulted a marketing firm to work up customer personas so he could better target his pirating services.
The firm returned a report that laid out generic personalities that George should target, such as merchant ship owners, small badly-defended ports, and sailors on Spanish galleons full of gold.
George thanked the marketing firm, and then looted their offices.
“But we didn’t list marketing firms in the report!” they said.
George shrugged, and rolled their color copier back to his ship.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
You know, like how Bob Uecker was a mediocre baseball player.
At least Bob was in beer commercials, movies, television shows, and did play-by-play for the Milwaukee Brewers.
George was a pirate. Nothing else.
He tried to do play-by-play for his pirate ship, but the crew found it really annoying when he narrated their battles.
He’d rattle of statistics and other nonsense as they fought and he sat.
“I must be in the front row!” George said, as two rather large pirates picked him up and threw him overboard.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
If George were arrested for his crimes on the high seas, people wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a lineup.
“Number three,” the sea captain says.
“That’s a circus clown,” says the detective. “Try again.”
“Six?”
“There isn’t a number six.”
“Oh, wait… I know… number 201.”
“That’s the room number on the door.”
Exasperated, the detective dismisses the lineup, and George is released.
To go back to his ship, free to be a pirate once again.
Knowing, that if he ever gets caught, not to worry.