Location: the waves, the ocean

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

Thursday, April 14, 2005


Ahoy there laddies, aye we sail on do we not? Aye, there be drought, there be famine, there be warring &, aye, salmon (fer it rhymes, thar, see?), there be folly & fighting & mates reuniting & song in the air & rum drunk with care. Aye, 'tis a good life, me laddies. I've been tight-lipped I have about certain of me misadventures, leaving the very moondark cloak of secrecy o'er me days fer respect of me endeavors, aye, ye see? 'Tis a matter of some delicacy, disclosing the intricacies of a pirate's course, when aye, that pirate would do well to keep his lips sown tight & plod on towards 'is bounty. History though be a different matter, & as sure as we sit 'ere this morn ye can bet yer good eyes lads that there will be another Louis Stevenson & that laddy will choose the most afeared & savage of the modern humanist pirates for the topic of 'is novel, & who do ye think that be lads? Aye, I inspire black fear in the hearts of men, but me songs & me general comportment when about me cabin be riddled with basic human sympathies. Aye, a sensitive pirate am I, & not given easily to divulge the means by which others come to suffer under the threat of me scythe. Leastwise, I 'aven't seen anyone haver to ask yers truly of his misadventures by name, no. Ye've plenty of opportunity, fer as this a journal be it also is a forum for setting the record straight with me particular life of piracy. Aye, call it a historical document lads, & consider me yer docent, available fer questions should they arise. Aye, fer instance, ye may wonder how a pirate abides by the old rule of the seas when around him so much has changed? Or, & among ye the scoundrels I mean here, ye may wonder at the curious intimacies afforded by mermaids & other such creatures of the sea, aye. I've answers, lads, like me chests have bits of fine gold. What ye needs to understand is that as a security measure, aye, I cannot relay me course or compass, nor the particulates of me strategies that might afford a future foe some slight advantage. Nay, me secrets be mine own, but the tales of the sea, they be for all to hear. Aye, & hear them ye shall, for the sea's song is endless, laddies, endless indeed.


Anonymous the bo'son said...

Dear Mr. Dagger,

I was so excited to read about your chests, which "have bits of fine gold!" I'd like to see that! There is nothing, I have heard, like a swarthy pirate's bosoms to offer comfort to the landlocked, especially if dotted with man-hairs of finest gold. They say Bluebeard himself could blind a lad with the aquamarine tufts erupting from his man-blouse like a thousand tiny Burt Reynoldses.

11:18 AM  
Anonymous BeardBeard said...

Aye, each man must keep certain know'ledge close to 'is chest. But sharing it, too, has an advantage -- an anchor is lifted, aye. When my parrot acquired a morn'ng drip some weeks hence, I thought my visit to port may've hexed us both. But 'twas only a chest cold. Had I not enquir'd, I might've assumed the worst, that the haggard oth'r parrot I laid with in town gave us some dirty macaw crotch-flu.

3:45 PM  

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