George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
After he was suspended for pooping on the swab deck, he tried being a Buddhist monk.
They shaved his head, gave him robes, and asked him to chant all day and night.
He got pretty good at it.
It was when they handed him chalk and asked him to make mandalas that George ran into trouble.
Instead of scraping the chalk to make beautiful patterns, he drew dirty pictures on the temple’s floor and walls.
Rubbing his hand through the stubble on his scalp, he returned to his ship.
George’s Mentor
Fred was a pirate, and he was a very good pirate.
Unlike George, who wasn’t a very good pirate.
The captain asked Fred to coach George.
So, Fred and George worked out a set of goals.
And they held weekly progress meetings.
Fred ran George through a series of drills, and then practice exercises to apply what he’d learned.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” said George.
And he ran Fred through with his cutlass.
“Oops,” said George.
George tried to bury Fred at sea.
Despite being moored at the port.
Fred’s bloody corpse flopped on the dock.
George the Drugged Pirate
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
This caused him a lot of anxiety and stress, so he went to see a therapist.
The therapist asked George why he was a pirate, and if there was anything else he wanted to be.
“I just want to be a pirate,” said George. “There’s nothing else I want to be.”
The therapist prescribed some anti-anxiety medication, and it helped with George’s stress and anxiety.
But he was still a mediocre pirate. He just didn’t care that he was mediocre.
And he did a half-assed job happily ever after.
George the Pirate Sails
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Sure, he could spot ships from miles away, but they weren’t treasure ships.
They were heavily-armed frigates, fellow pirate ships, or other worthless or dangerous targets.
“It’s not like they’re going to fly flags that say WE HAVE TREASURE or something like that,” said George.
So, George sewed some flags that said WE DON’T HAVE TREASURE to offered to every ship they’d meet.
“It’s reverse psychology,” said George. “Whoever buys one is trying to hide the fact that they have treasure.”
“Where did our sails go?” asked The Captain.
George the Birthday Pirate
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
If you saw him standing there, you’d think he was a good pirate.
But looks can be deceiving.
George didn’t go on pillaging raids.
Instead, he performed at childrens’ birthday parties.
He’d tie up the birthday boy or girl and hold them for ransom.
The ransom would be cake and ice cream for everyone.
He and the kids would sing pirate songs. Wave their plastic cutlasses around.
George was really good at that. And it was really fun.
And he got all the cake and ice cream he wanted.
George the Pirate Doesn’t Quit His Day Job
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
But he was popular as a performer at children’s’ birthday parties.
He had a ventriloquist act with a stuffed parrot on his shoulder.
George would say something, and then the parrot would make a joke.
George also had a talking treasure chest. The lid would open and close like a mouth.
Sure, the kids could see his lips move, but they still loved the act.
“It’s nice act,” George remembered his father saying. “But don’t quit your day job.”
So, after the gig, George would return to the ship.
Weekly Challenge #698 – FURROW
- Richard
- Lizzie
- Serendipidy
- Tura
- Norval Joe
- JRadimus
- Planet Z
LIZZIE
Something was different. She could feel it. She turned the pages slowly, trying to figure out what was going on. She couldn’t see any difference, but she knew something had changed. Then, suddenly, she turned to page 22 and there it was. A whole paragraph was different. It had nothing to do with the rest of the story. She frowned. She turned to page 23. Everything looked fine. She turned back to page 22. The paragraph was gone. She slammed the book shut and put it back on the shelf. The writing demons were out again. And so it started.
RICHARD
Furrow
Furrow is such a difficult word to insert into a story, unless you happen to be speaking to a farmer, buying a tractor or writing a novel about a struggling writer whose brow was furrowed with frustration about his inability to use the word ‘furrow’ in a creative manner.
Halfway through, and the writer’s brow furrowed as he pondered what to do with the next fifty words.
“Why can’t we write about pirates?” he uttered in frustration.
“Because”, said the kindly librarian, “what would we write about for ‘Talk like a pirate day?”
“Now, knuckle down, and write about furrows!”
SERENDIPIDY
The rabbits at Appleby Farm were better organised than most. Rather than take pot luck at finding a worthwhile meal, they organised a foraging council and planned to burrow beneath a furrow and purloin the carrot harvest from below.
The first year was a resounding success, and the council resolved to extend the burrow beneath the freshly planted parsnips the following season.
Farmer Brown was not a rabbit, and was infinitely more intelligent. After losing his entire carrot crop, he laced the second planting with strychnine.
It worked better than expected…
The following year’s rabbit crop was the best ever!
TURA
Furrow
———
The scholar-cleric with his furrowed brow
That labours long to pierce the ancients’ thought
Whose learning’s but a library of scrolls
And never once the truth of things has sought;
Who reads one argument and sets it by
Another passage arguing against,
Then other fragments brings from other books
And writes a new work patch’d from all the old,
Yet never steps outside to see the things
Of which these authors wrote — such dullards all
Know nothing of entangling with the Real:
Such is the only road to knowledge sure.
Better to make one observation new
Than endlessly debate about the True.
J RADIMUS
Jay held his breath, stifling the giggling for all he was worth. He felt Trish doing the same, lying next to him in the furrow between rows of cornstalks. They were still as statues as the white beams of flashlights crisscrossed above them, red and blue flashes painting the landscape. Amid the radio squawks, and clamor from the deputies’ fruitless searching, Jay stole a glance to his right, and saw Trish grinning back, felt her squeezing his hand, her eyes sparkling with excitement and police lights. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, but he knew what he was feeling.
NORVAL JOE
With the power off, the only lights shown from the distant admin building and did little to illuminate the crowded room. Most of the kids chattered and laughed, others let out artificially high-pitched screams to add to the confusion.
Linoliumanda kissed Billbert. This was good. It took him back to the quick kiss in Linolumanda’s bedroom and the sensations he had wanted to experience again.
Unfortunately, the lights came on. Billbert and Linoliumanda floated head and shoulders above the crowd. They quickly dropped to the floor.
The principal stood on a riser, a frown furrowing her brow, scanning the room.
PLANET Z
When we planned the music festival, we made a list of the things we needed.
Food, water, electricity, stages, and so on.
We worked up plans for everything.
We went to other music concerts and sports events with stopwatches and clipboards, estimating the traffic to the bathrooms.
Then, we set up the budgets, and sold tickets to raise funds.
Across the city… across the state… across the country…the money rolled in.
And the people came from all over, setting up their camps and tents.
On the first day… nothing.
We’d forgotten to book acts.
Or budgeted for an escape plan.
George the Pirate Helps
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
“George,” the other pirates would say. “Help us test the plank.”
George walked along the plank and fell into the water.
The other pirates laughed.
“George,” the other pirates would say. “Help us test the keel haul rope.”
George held the rope as the other pirates tied him up and ran him along the keel.
The other pirates laughed.
“George,” the other pirates would say. “Help us test this hangman’s noose.”
George stabbed the other pirates as they slept in their bunks.
He could only take so much shit.
George the Pirate’s Family History
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He came from a long line of not very good pirates.
Neckbeard was a notorious rogue, notorious for his inability to fit into his breeches.
Calico Fred had a hard time distinguishing port from starboard and bow from stern.
The Barbarossa Sisters used to take each other’s crews prisoner.
And Sir Francis Gander retired with two peg legs, two hook hands, two eyepatches, and a lot of medical bills.
George didn’t go to many family reunions.
Not that he didn’t try. He wasn’t very good at reading the map.
George the Pirate’s Bath Night
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He learned early on that he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Bath Night was every Sunday, he’d take all his bath toys into the bath with him.
Every Sunday, his pirate ship had adventures on the high seas in his tub.
He’d slosh the water into tidal waves, and ship and men sank to the bottom, eaten by his toy sharks.
The water would splash everywhere, causing mold and rot.
“Look what you’ve done,” shouted George’s parents.
Eventually, George was forced to hose himself off in the back yard.