Category: My stories

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
But even a not-very-good pirate can see the evil in marketing consultants.
“You need to rebrand!” said the consultant. “You’re not pirates, you’re independent resellers.”
The consultant instituted standard uniforms, providing the hook-handed, peg-legged, and eye-patched crewmembers with realistic prostheses.
“And we’ve got to work on language skills. Your grammar and jargon are simply awful!”
Hostages became negotiating assets, booty became procured trading goods.
The crew held a meeting, then keel-hauled the landlubber.
“Oh, sorry,” said George. “We’re terminating your contract through a barnacle-scrubbing maintenance operation. Is that better?”

George was a pirate but he wasn’t a very good pirate. The problem was that the captain kept changing the ship’s operation manuals. He made procedures more and more complex, making it harder for any pirates to get any actual work done with consistency. And he changed the terminology and names of things. This confused the Pirates even more. Eventually, George held a meeting with all the other pirates on the ship. The captain woke up to George standing in front of him with a dagger to his throat. What’s the bullshit term you use for mutiny now? Asked George.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was always leaving the ship’s portholes open, and one day a raven flew in and landed on George’s head.
“Nevermore,” said the raven.
“What the crap does that mean?” said George.
“Nevermore,” repeated the bird.
George swatted the raven away, got up, and looked up nevermore in a dictionary.
The definition further irritated him.
“Why would a raven say nevermore?” said George.
“Nevermore,” said the raven.
George drew his cutlass and killed the annoying bird.
He roasted it in the galley and ate it.
Quoth the pirate, “Delicious.”

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was a loyal baseball fan, though.
No, he didn’t follow the Pittsburgh Pirates.
No self-respecting pirate would be caught dead in Pittsburgh.
He followed the Bradeton Marauders, a minor league club.
George went to every game, dressed up in his best pirate regalia, and he’d lead the cheers.
Waving his cutlass in the air, shouting for all nine innings.
The fans thought he was awesome.
“You’re the best pirate ever,” the kids would say.
And, with a happy tear in his eye, he shouted “ONE TWO THREE… YARRRRRRRRRRR!”

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
At least, that was what the captain said.
Truth was, George was a pretty good pirate.
The captain, on the other hand, was an awful pirate.
But you know the Peter Principle.
People rise in rank until they fully express their incompetence.
And the captain was supremely incompetent.
Terrified that someone would discover how incompetent he really was.
So, he constantly put down the pirates on his ship.
Pitting them against each other.
All the while, hoarding gold, hoping to retire. before his crew called him on his bullshit.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Still, he did his best for his ship, joining raiding parties and fending off rival pirates.
Until the captain sold to a German pirate consortium.
Which outsourced the work to cheaper Russian pirates.
George sat in port, stuck in endless planning meetings.
“When will we go out again?” asked George.
The owners told him to shut up and train.
A lot of his old crew mates got bored and quit for better challenges.
George trained their replacements.
Until one day, George left, too.
And sailed off to new lands.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
This wasn’t in just skill, but also in discipline.
“I’m leaving the ship for a few days,” said the captain. “No parties while I’m gone, okay?”
“Aye aye, captain,” said George.
George broke out the rum and arranged music, games, dancing, and fencing matches.
Come dawn, the ship was everything but a wreck at the bottom of the bay when the captain came back.
“Are you mad I made a mess, sir?” said George.
“No,” said the captain. “I’m mad you threw a great party and I wasn’t invited,”

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He never checked the weather reports, so he frequently sailed into thunderstorms, hurricanes, and tsunamis.
Or he’d be sleeping at an inn, and a big wave would wash the building a mile inland.
“I paid for an oceanside view,” complained a sopping-wet George to an equally sopping-wet innkeeper. “Now it’s a mile walk to the docks?”
George wrung out his clothes and hiked the mile back to his ship.
Well, where he thought he’d left his ship.
He hiked back. It was on the other side of the inn.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
But the captain… now they weren’t good at all.
Every year, the captain sent out an anonymous survey.
The responses were dismal.
“I feel like my contributions are valued.” Negative.
“I feel like I have opportunities for career growth.” Negative.
“I feel like my work has meaning.” Extremely negative.
The captain fumed, threatening to make everyone walk the plank.
“Then who will hold the plank?” asked George.
George was the first forced to walk the plank.
“I’m going to remember this for next year’s survey,” grumbled George, treading water.