George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He believed in Santa Claus, The Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny.
For Christmas, he left out milk and cookies for Santa.
For The Tooth Fairy, well, George Brushed and flossed and wore a mouthguard in battle, so he had to rely on his crewmates’ teeth to put under his pillow.
And for the Easter Bunny, he put out a rabbit trap.
“Roast rabbit is delicious!” said George.
His crewmates stepped in the trap a lot.
Some got gangrene, and they’d need an amputation.
“Those aren’t delicious,” said George.
Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day
George gets audited
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was good about filing his tax returns, though.
He expensed his hat, boots, sword, and other essential equipment.
Which is why he got audited every year.
“You’re a… pirate?” said the auditor, looking at George’s paperwork. “If you perform at birthday parties, you’re an entertainer.”
“No, I’m a pirate,” said George. “Just not a very good one. I supplement my income with birthday parties.”
The auditor calculated the fine.
George tied him to a chair and set the room on fire.
Like we all wish we could do.
George and the turtles
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
While fleeing British pirate hunters, George tended to get lost among the islands.
Running low on supplies, his ship run aground, the crew fished for what they could, and ended up with nets full of turtles.
They cooked up the turtles, and devised a plan.
George opened a restaurant on the island, and people came from far and wide to attend the opening.
Pirates and British Navy sailors waited for hours for a table.
They never got one. George and the crew stole a ship and fled to safety.
George talks to himself
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He spent a lot of time swabbing the deck.
Every now and then, he’d pause and look at his reflection in the mop bucket.
Sometimes, he’d talk to himself.
The other pirates found this disturbing, and they asked the captain to do something.
“Maybe if you stopped shunning him and actually treated him nicely, he wouldn’t have to talk to himself in a bucket?” said the captain.
The crew pondered this, and then dumped the bucket on George’s head and pushed him overboard.
“That works too,” said the captain.
George and Wowbagger
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was a worthless navigator, awful swordsman, and a completely unreliable deckhand.
As he leaned on the starboard rail, a silver spaceship hovered by the port rail.
A ramp extended from the ship and a grey-green alien walked out.
“George?” it asked, reading from a clipboard. “George the Pirate?”
George turned around. “Yes?”
“You’re not very good,” it said. “I thought I’d let you know that.”
The alien turned around, returned to its ship, and the spaceship flew away.
George shrugged and went back to leaning on the rail.
George visits Abortion Island
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
His ship ran aground on a small island off of the coast of South Carolina.
“Welcome to Abortion Island,” said a grizzled docksman. “Sorry about the lighthouse, been out for three days.”
He led George to the clinic, a small medical facility and dormitory.
“The ferryboat brings patients, the doctor performs the procedure, and when they’re ready, they return to the mainland.”
George stood and stared.
It took George seven days to repair his ship.
He kept to himself, sleeping in his bunk.
And he left without saying goodbye.
Call me George
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
“Maybe you should give pirating a rest?” said the captain, tallying up the damage from George’s latest mishap. “Whaling is big these days. My brother has a ship.”
George packed his bags, disembarked, and walked down the docks to his new home.
“Your first time whaling?” said a lanky greenhorn, extending his hand. “Call me Ishmael.”
“Call me George,” said George, smiling.
A year later, they found themselves bloodied and battered, adrift on the Pacific in a coffin.
“That ended badly,” said Ishmael. “So, tell me more about piracy.”
George ponders
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Some nights, he’d gaze up at the stars, wondering how he fit in to the world, or if there was some kind of hidden cosmic plan out there.
“Where are we?”
“Why am I here?”
“What is my purpose?”
“What does it all mean?”
Then he’d connect all the bright stars in his mind, making shapes and words and symbols.
One he named “George.” He was also holding a map and an astrolabe.
The captain tapped him on the shoulder, clearing his throat.
“I asked ‘Where are we, George?'”
George and the protestors
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Nobody would ever build a monument or statue to him.
No plaque, no bench.
He sat in the park and rested.
Masked protestors swarmed in, charging and screaming, armed with sledgehammers and a crane.
“Down with hate and slavery!’ they shouted. “We love!”
They pounded at the Confederate War Veterans statue, tugging and pulling it until it toppled and fell.
On top of George.
The protestors ran when they heard ambulance sirens, leaving him thrashing and struggling, shouting for help.
The medics tended to George, and carried him away.
George and the seven cities
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
George sought out El Dorado, the City of Gold.
But instead of a city literally made of Gold, it turned out to be a village ruled by some naked dude who rolled around in Gold dust every morning, and then washed it off in the lake.
George stripped naked, rolled around in Gold dust, and proclaimed himself king.
The natives bowed down to George. Except for the real king.
Over and over they did this.
After a week, El Dorado ran out of Gold dust.
And George left emptyhanded.