Category: Talk Like A Pirate Day

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
On a scale from one to ten, when asked how good of a pirate George is, most pirates would ask if zero is an option.
When you tell pirates that the lowest number on the scale is one, so zero isn’t available as an option, they get very angry, and will draw their cutlass and threaten to cut your throat.
George, on the other hand, would rate himself an eleven.
Once again don’t correct him on the numbers. He might draw his sword and drop it on your foot.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He had a good attitude, though.
When he saw people, he’d say “Happy Tuesday!” or “Happy Thursday, it’s almost Friday!”
And not in a sarcastic way, either. He was genuinely happy that it was Tuesday or Thursday.
And when it was Friday, man was he happy.
Not that it meant anything. Because being a pirate is a seven-days-a-week job.
There are no weekends off for pirates.
But it gave George something to say and be happy about.
Even if the truth was that everyone was miserable, frustrated, and exhausted.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
After a long day of piracy, he’d change into his pajamas, make a cup of herbal tea, and read for a while.
Sometimes, the other pirates would steal his clothes while he slept, and George would have to go out in his pajamas.
Usually, he’d go shopping for new clothes, but sometimes he was woken up by a fight.
He fought well in them.
So well, other pirates began to wear pajamas while going into battle.
Not having pockets make it hard to carry ammunition for their flintlocks, though.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He didn’t really make a name for himself as a pirate.
As opposed to the pirate who ripped the heart out of a Spaniard and ate it.
“But what was his name?” asked the captain.
George tried to think of it. “I can’t remember. But he ate some guy’s heart, so…”
“But do you remember his name?”
“No.”
Later, George realized that he didn’t know the captain’s name, either.
George didn’t sleep that night. He stayed up, worried that the captain would rip out his heart and eat it.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He lay on his therapist’s couch, crying and rambling about all his problems.
Then, he realized that he’d looted the couch from his therapist’s office, and he was on the deck of his ship, rambling to the rain and the winds.
George shrugged. It wasn’t any less helpful that when he’d cried and rambled to his therapist.
He’d gotten pissed off at the waste of time and stolen the couch out of spite.
“And how does that make you feel?” George imagined the therapist saying.
“Good,” said George, smiling.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He kept a diary of all his misadventures.
And then he turned it into a series of books.
The books sold well, and George made a lot of money from them.
His old captain sent George a letter threatening to sue him if he didn’t get a share of the money.
George wrote back that suing him would not be a good idea.
The next day, the captain woke up with a can of gasoline and a pack of matches in his bunk.
Leave me alone, said George’s note.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
“When life hands you lemons, make lemonade,” he always said.
He never seemed to have any lemons, though.
George looked through the grocery delivery crate.
Apples… he could make applesauce.
Oranges… he could make orange juice.
Tomatoes… oh, the things he could do with tomatoes.
Tomato juice, tomato sauce, tomato paste.
Slice them up for a BLT?
But he didn’t have any lettuce or bacon.
Potatoes… maybe.
But he wasn’t very hungry at the moment.
So he pulled out his Mister Potato Head kit and played for a while.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
At first, it was the captain telling him that he wasn’t very good.
Then, the captain had the first mate harass George about it.
The quartermaster scolded George for wasting food and water.
And the sailing master criticized George’s navigation skills.
If that weren’t enough, the captain brought on boatswains who hounded George night and day for his mistakes.
Pretty soon, it as everybody’s job on the ship to give George shit.
“Who’s steering the ship?” asked George, seeing rocks up ahead.
Everyone shouted at George for questioning authority.