George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He liked to stand out in the rain and listen to the rain hit the rails and decks.
He found it peaceful and calming.
But he also found it annoying that the rain got into his coffee mug, and would dilute his coffee.
George tried to use an umbrella, but he didn’t like the sound of the rain on it.
So, he gave up coffee, and he would tilt his head back and let his mouth fill with rainwater.
It was nice and refreshing, until the seagulls flew overhead.
Category: My stories
George gets hung
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
When he was caught and charged with crimes on the high seas, George demanded a jury of his peers.
So, the court sent out jury summons, and a group of pirates eventually arrived.
Instead of jury selection, the court charged those pirates with crimes, too.
“I should have known it was a trap,” said George’s captain. “If only I’d have gone to the website and filed for a medical excuse.”
All of the pirates were convicted, and sentenced to be hung.
“A hung jury,” George whispered, and he chuckled.
George’s Passwords
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
This didn’t stop him from joining The Secret Pirate Club.
He’d slip into the alley, knock on the door, and a panel would slide open.
“What’s the password?” whispered a voice.
“Dead men tell no tales,” whispered George back.
“Your password has expired,” whispered the voice. “Please select a new password.”
George tried to, but the voice insisted that the password needed a capital letter, a symbol, no spaces…
Then it insisted on two-factor authentication on a thumbprint-secured smartphone.
George grumbled, pulled out his iPhone, and searched for signal.
George’s Party
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was never on the guest list of the big pirate parties.
“I’m George,” said George to the bouncer at the gate. “George the Pirate.”
The bouncer checked his clipboard. “Nope. Sorry.”
Then he’d unlatch the velvet rope to let Blackbeard or LaFitte pass.
So George saved up his money and threw his own big party.
He got the word out, but didn’t invite anybody.
All smug and full of himself, George arrived, but the bouncer refused to let him in.
“Shit,” said George. “I forgot to invite myself.”
Weekly Challenge #879 – PICK TWO Style, Figure, Balance, Schism, Flower basket, Double
The next weekly challenge topic is: Range
RICHARD
Dress sense
In no way could you possibly consider me a style icon. Unless your idea of style is messy, comfortable slobbishness!
Fashion is certainly not my forte, and anything even remotely stylish in my wardrobe owes more to luck than judgement.
Most of the time, it’s jeans, and crumpled t-shirt. Despite that, I think I cut quite a dashing figure in a suit. That is, when I can be bothered, or the situation merits getting dressed up.
And it doesn’t happen all that often.
Usually, somebody has to die.
But, when they do, I’m always the best-dressed at any funeral.
LIZZIE
They made her wear a long checkered coat that matched the background.
“Color. Style. It’s intentional, darling,” said the director.
The multitude of patterns gave her a headache.
Then, they added a huge hat. “For balance,” they said.
“This is very Alice-like,” she muttered.
The director smiled a condescending smile.
“Ever directed a play, darling?”
“No.”
“Well then… This stage. It’s different! New!”
“What?! It’s a ripoff from Burton’s!”
“Out,” shouted the director. “Out, now!”
OK, time to call Mr. B and let him know he was right. This copycat wouldn’t be calling anyone else “darling” for a long time.
TOM
Flower Schism
The deadliest of our species are members of the Ladies Church Flower Guild. Lightning fast to act, with no compunction to rain-down rigorous death on usurpers. I have seen bishops brought to their knees. Vatican Emissaries shipped back to Rome in boxes. But nothing compares to the Flower Schism of 1968 when Mary Elizabeth Murray went after Mary Margret Edwards. It was biblical throw-down. When the dust clear only a handful of altar boys were left. My last act in that church with ecclesiastical vestments dripping read, was to place the remaining flower on the bodies outside the burning church.
my absence
My friend, god rest his soul, oped-in on Starlink beta test. Little did we know that that account was connected to a credit card that had been seriously max-ed out. So Starlink killed the service. I spent hours searching the Starlink web site for any form of customer service. Then any billing department links. Then any email at all, none. A company with no functioning contact information, not even a PO Box. There was no one and no way to get the service moved over to a new card. What kind of idiot starts a company with no billing department, oh Elon Musk.
Flower Schism
The deadliest of our species are members of the Ladies Church Flower Guild. Lightning fast to act, with no compunction to rain-down rigorous death on usurpers. I have seen bishops brough to their knees. Vatican Emissaries shipped back to Rome in boxes. But nothing compares to the Flower Schism of 1968 when Mary Elizibeth Murray went after Mary Margert Edwards. It was biblical throw-down. When the dust clear only a handful of altar boys were left. My last act in that church with ecclesiastical vestments dripping read, was to place the remaining flower on the bodies outside the burning church.
SERENDIPIDY
Slowly, you become aware of your surroundings. The pain in your head is severe and you feel the warm, stickiness of blood matting your hair.
There’s a ringing in your ears and you feel detached from your surroundings as you struggle to focus on the things around you.
You’re seeing double, and the world has become unclear and very distant.
You become aware of a blurry figure stood before you, and slowly, horribly, realisation dawns.
I raise the shotgun again, you’re staring down the barrel, and – as if from a great distance – you hear my voice…
“Ready for round two?”
NORVAL JOE
Billbert figured he could double down on acting confident and he thrust out his hand. “Here. Let me look at that scroll.”
The old man almost fell for it but jerked back the brittle role of parchment before Billbert could see what was written on it.
Billbert shook his head sadly. “Give me some help here, Sabrina. You’re the witch after all.”
She began to open her mouth, but the old man cut in instead. “She may be the witch, but she’s a weak one, except when in contact with you. You, young man, magnify and balance the witch’s power.”
PLANET Z
She balanced the flower basket on her head as she walked down the street.
A sign in the basket… roses for sale.
And a rose clenched between her teeth.
She’d motion for the tourists to put the money in their mouth.
And slowly, hands at her sides, she’d pass them the rose while taking the money.
By the time she got to the end of the block, her basket would be empty, and her pockets were full.
She’d walk into the bar at the corner and wash her mouth out with a glass of whiskey.
Filthy tourists. Do they brush?
George and George
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
No, not that George. That guy’s a decent pirate.
I’m talking about the other George. The one who isn’t a very good pirate.
Maybe it’s in the tone of my voice?
You can tell when I’m talking about the good George and when I’m talking about the bad George.
Then there’s Jorje. That guy… wow, what a pirate!
Not only does he have the moves, but his accent is incredible!
Leaves those other two Georges in the dust.
Especially George.
(See how I change the tone of my voice?)
George at the end of his rope
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He wasn’t even good at the basics, such as tying knots.
He had many diagrams to study from.
But he just couldn’t master the art of connecting a rope to something else, or connecting a rope to another rope.
The other pirates made fun of George for this, and they mocked and ridiculed him constantly.
Despondent, George threw a rope over a crossbeam, made a hangman’s noose, and put it around his neck.
The crossbeam splintered and cracked, bringing down the roof.
George wasn’t good at building houses, either.
George’s ship swap
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was in charge of supplies, so when the ship ran out of food and water and everything else, George was in a bind.
“I have an idea,” he said.
So, the captain sailed right up to a British Navy vessel and surrendered.
As the British captain ordered his men to board, the pirates snuck on to the British ship and took it over.
And then sailed away, laughing.
The British discovered that the pirates had taken the sails with them.
But they hadn’t taken George.
“Oops,” said George.
George and the cookies
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
The captain ordered the crew not to sell Girl Scout cookies for their daughters, well, the daughters that they knew about, but you know pirates.
They’re always breaking the rules.
Even the captain would pass around an order sheet, and everyone knew that he didn’t have any children.
George signed up for all of them, but when it came time for delivery, George never got his cookies.
There was some kind of mistake at the warehouse or distributor or something.
To tell the truth, George didn’t really like cookies.
George pads his resume
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
When he first applied for jobs, he didn’t have much experience, so he padded his resume a bit.
George figured that what he didn’t know already, which was a lot, he could learn on the job.
Pirates aren’t good at checking references, and they tend to be a boisterous and boastful lot, anyway.
Always shouting about Davy Jones’ Locker and treasure maps and crap like that.
So, George got the job, and he started immediately.
And he started causing problems immediately.
He never did learn much on the job.