George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Was he the worst pirate in history?
No, because that would be Phil.
The Captain hired him as a ringer for the crew’s softball team.
Phil struck out every batter he faced, and he hit every ball out of the park.
He was MVP of the league for three years straight, and the team won the championship all three of those years.
But P stands for Player, not Pirate, and Phil was a dreadful pirate.
What happened to Phil is too gruesome to say.
The crew retired his number.
Category: My stories
George the Tax Expert
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
But he was good at preparing and filing taxes for his shipmates.
With practice, he was able to generate exemptions and refunds that were more lucrative than any treasure chest or pillaging raid.
Pretty soon, the pirates no longer had to pillage and loot and plunder to make a living.
They sat back, enjoyed life, and let George handle the paperwork.
Eventually, other pirates realized what was going on, and they all ganged up on George’s crew.
“So this is how it feels,” mumbled George, preparing to repel boarders.
George the Career Seeker
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
A career guidance counselor tried to help him explore other options.
“Perhaps instead of piracy, you could explore the many related careers around it?”
He helped George build a chart: shipbuilding, sailmaking, weapons forging, gunsmithing.
There were so many jobs indirectly related to piracy.
“There are so many things I could do instead of being a pirate, but still stay in the pirate industry,” said George. “I’ll think about it.”
He then proceeded to loot and pillage the guidance counselor’s office.
“Sorry,” said George. “Nothing personal, it’s only business.”
George the Pirate Recruiter
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
So, they made him go to high schools as a recruiter.
Back in the day, you could send out press gangs to shangai men for crews, but these days the competition for talent was fierce.
George would try to explain the benefits of being a pirate to the students: treasure, adventure, and occasional romance.
Legally, he was obligated to tell them about the drawbacks, too: scurvy, no medical or dental plans, and a high mortality rate.
Nobody signed up. But at George got to pillage a few trophy cases.
Johnny Fuckyou
After every touchdown, the player raises a prayer to the sky.
And when a player is hurt, they all take a knee and bow their heads.
They do the same after every game.
Johnny Manziel was the cocky and brash young phenom who wanted to drink and party more than play the game.
Released by his team, dumped by his agent, and wanted by nobody.
Cast into the wilderness.
Where are all of these so-called brothers keepers now?
Why do they let their brother wallow in sin?
Maybe if he wasn’t a shitty quarterback, they’d do more than just pray.
The Wall
Long ago, back when this land was forest, Castor McDonegal laid the first stone.
Others brought stones and placed them by Castor’s stone.
As Castor and his tribe cut down the trees to build their homes, the stone wall grew around the village.
Over the generations, the wall rose higher, and it protected us and kept us safe.
Enemies tried to fire arrows and rocks over the wall, but the wall was too high.
We fire rocks and arrows down at them, or lock them between the gates and murder them with burning oil.
Walk this wall with pride, soldier.
Nineties
My grandmother spent her last twenty years in the care of my aunt, my parents, and then a retirement home.
She suffered from dementia, and was only occasionally lucid.
In her nineties, the doctors determined that she had breast cancer.
Why were they checking her for it in the first place?
The hospital performed surgery, and removed the tumor easily.
Meanwhile, people across the country… across the world don’t even have basic medical care.
So many are sick, or die young before they have a chance to live.
But it’s different when it’s family… it’s different when it’s you.
Right?
Sweet taste of death and murder
Every time a Palestinian stabs, shoots, runs over, or bombs Jews, the streets of Arab neighborhoods fill with celebration.
People hand out candies to symbolize the sweet taste of martyrdom and death.
Nobody condemns these barbaric and bloodthirsty customs, not even the Palestinian Dentists Association.
“As long as they brush their teeth afterwards,” say the dentists, and they fire their guns into the air with joy.
Despite skyrocketing diabetes rates, the Palestinian Medical Union refuses to condemn the passing around of candy.
“In Paradise, Allah will provide all the insulin shots you need, with 72 virgin nurses to administer them!”
Purple Rain
When Prince died, memorials appeared everywhere, celebrating the man’s music and work.
Online tributes rolled through Facebook and Twitter. Photos and videos and memes.
Point and click grieving, shallow little emotional coughs.
Dr. Odd came up with a plan to generate purple rain storms over Minneapolis, Prince’s hometown.
It worked, and purple rain began to fall from the sky.
And kept falling.
Minneapolis was drenched in purple torrents.
The purple waters rose higher and higher, and they washed away the city.
By the time Dr. Odd stopped the storms, nothing was left.
Well, except St. Paul, but nobody goes there.
Iron Man
When I was young, my neighbor Brian was so into comic books, he stuck a battery and a magnet in his chest so he could be like Iron Man.
He spent a month in the hospital, and when he came out, they taped oven mitts on to his hands and kept him sedated.
And no comic books.
Still, he’d ask me if he could read my comic books.
“Well, I don’t think Iron Man is good for you,” I’d say. “But Superman should be fine, right?”
No, not really. He thought he could fly, and jumped off of the roof.