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Location: the waves, the ocean

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

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Hjord & Whale Pizzle

These two laddies 'ave put in their two cents on the matter of me last post, & though spirited they be in defense of their people, a healthy spirit does little in the way of halting a dagger, aye. First I'd like to address their general inability to communicate with naught but some mythic beasts envisioned in their lonely times of privation. Aye, it sounds veritably like the mouths of Hjord & Whale Pizzle are filled to dehiscing with wee kitties or the like, though I wager to say a cheese puff or two would be more fitting men of such stature; aye, laddies, ye hear me, men so profuse in their rhetoric that ere a sentence comes to close twelve blows may've been rendered, aye, as inland industry mogul Jay-Z would have it, you know the type, loud as a motor bike, but wouldn't bust a grape in a fruit fight. Aye, & whatever the fuck that means precisely I leave to ye lads, but suffice it to say whilst such bloated ingrates jig atop some Valhalla-facsmilie picnic table, their hands groping copious quantities of mutton & their goblets sadly bespoiled with such a rank & indecorous & sissy liquid as mead, your cap'n will prevail on the high seas, & will hereby avow to make me own ship of vikings' fingernails meself! Second, aye, for this be exposition now lads, second we must weigh the merit of a viking ship. Whale Pizzle claimed it as much 'isself, as a simple oarsmen, that 'is own ship is naught but a slab carved to assume the countenence of a fierce dragon. If we pirates spent our time whittling every bit of driftwood floating by, making wee little skifs such as those of the vikings, aye, we too would be forced to cover our faces in beardhair & horn-helmet for shame of our creations! These be not vessels of the sea, nay, but the childsplay of some desparate fjorders. Third, ye vikings refer to yer cap'n truly as a buccanear, & to be clear on our historical monickers, aye, a buccanear patrols the caribbean, & while me ship has dipped its wick in those pleasant seas, me travles 'ave taken me far & wide across this great globe, aye, to its very ends, & believe ye vikings all that me brigateen has spat upon yer northern shores, & that if ye dig deep enough with yer nailless fingers ye might find a bone or two of yer dearly bygone. Aye, I've a scar or two from a viking, but those what gave me such wounds saw much worse. Yer fervent belief in yer obsolete gods, me viking laddies, cannot a battle win. Faith be not armor where a dagger is concerned. Any rapscallion can plunder ashore. It takes a true master of the seas to call 'isself a pirate, & a truer one at that to call 'isself a cap'n. I say unto thee, ye wee little scandinavian blowhards, if ye see me on the waves, beware. If ye see me from the shore, beware. If yer god Raglort looks down & whispers "Dagger be coming," beware. Ye've naught but a prayer between yerself & me blade.

5 Comments:

Anonymous the bo'son said...

Aye Dagger, me scurvy veins await only thy command and the Norse cheesepuffs shall an arseful receive of my gout-ridden, gangrenous feet. What? What's that? "Bestowe the boote, bote-swayne, anon." I hear it well, me cap'n.

10:54 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I heard a wee bit of rumor that's circlin' the nordic seas: 't seems just this last holiday weekend a sfifful of vikings was making such a raucus with their synchronised man chantin' that a nearby carnival cruise's early bird lower body aerobic workout takin' place poolside had to be cancel'd. 'T seems a miffed participant we'll call "Barb" took such offense she used her 'lastic headband as a slingshot which landed Hlodvard Ulfhedin, renown berserker and drummer, straight in the eye, disruptin' the muscular rhythm. All went downhill from there as the brave men's voices went out of synch just like that. Pandemonium broke loose as each tried to catch up. A sad feminine cacophony resulted which would make all of Asgard bleed with shame like a menstrual period. Long story short: they had to be towed. You didn't hear it from me.

1:31 PM  
Anonymous beardbeard the insipid said...

I stand ready to drink the blood of the nordic pigs! I shall be in th'cabin with Ginnie, with th'silk sheets we acquired in calcutta draped o'er us both. Should you require me vessel's assistance, merely text me.

2:39 PM  
Anonymous Captain Bloodmeat Blueberry said...

I, too, stand at your side, young dagger. Valhalla, indeed. I'll give Frigg a good Frigging while Odin stands by and bears witness. I'll remove th'horns from their caps!

2:46 PM  
Blogger henry dagger said...

Aye, d'ye see here, then, Hjord? & Whale Pizzle, ye runt of a man, what have ye to say to me crew's swift rally? Naught but a plea for mercy, ye scurvy knaves, the both of ye! Sing with me: we're Dagger's crew we've had a few & now we want some more, all yer bloody corpses will be washed up on the shore, we've come for rum now give us some we've got an empty tank, now down the throat & fuck you bloke it's time to walk the plank!

3:57 PM  

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