George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He’d bonked his head on the bulkhead and taken to worshipping a potato.
Eventually, the potato would rot and begin to smell.
Pirates don’t smell good to begin with, so when his crewmates complained about the smell, you know it was bad.
George would drop the old potato overboard and get a fresh potato to worship.
“It’s like the Dalai Lama and his reincarnations,” said George. “Except with a potato.”
George bonked his head on the bulkhead and stopped worshipping the potato.
“They worship me now,” he whispered, grinning.