Location: the waves, the ocean

Hoist the sails, raise yer bloody goblets, ahoy & onward me laddies!

Thursday, March 31, 2005

The Crow's Nest & a Bottle of Rum

Ere long a man wonders at the aspect of sympathy & wherefrom it may come whisping along like a gale off shore or the flatulence of a petulant mermaid, aye. Not given long to such cause, Dirty Mulebeard coupled a comforting song with 'is old empathy, assuring old Dagger that a plunge into a whale's spout & the brisk touch of rosy-fingered dawn upon a manbeard at dusk is enough to plow us through our days. Indeed, a pirate oft lets 'is feeble perspective drop o'erboard & regains it somehow like a thick line cut in the wake, pulling along a shark carcass or mutineer. The point, laddies, is that rum, that sweet elixir, that guilded golden ambrosia, is no cure-all without a proper reconsideration. Take a sip, aye, but 'twixt sips think long & hard on yer battles & scars laddies, & then breathe in the salty musk & whalefog that surrounds ye, & cast yer good eye along the horizon fer a new battle. Wisk away the dew from yer manbeard & put on a dry cap laddies; the battle wages on. Mulebeard's got a good eye indeed, & one what'll remind a laddie, nay, e'en a captain, to itch his ass with the good hand & spare the hook for vittles forthcoming. Aye, the life of the pirate is tough, but tough tittie toenails as ole Whiskey once said, 'tween his keen observations on sexual duplicity. Tough tittie toenails, laddies, the music plays on. Retire to the crowsnest if ye seem to've lost yer pair & let the sun & wind stir yer loins back to happiness. Christ, a preacher I've become! To the bottle & be swift with ye laddies, ere the spirit possesses me! Let us to the seabed for a bevvy of mermaids & their netherparts, me laddies! Away!


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