Blogarama
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Location: the waves, the ocean

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

Monday, April 25, 2005

How a Weary Prisoner May Achieve 'is Freedom

Worried for yer cap'n, were ye lads? Aye, & a fine spot of it, & I am obliged in me appreciation. Yer worry took wings & sprung me from the hoosegow with relative ease. For any but yer cap'n, versed as he be in such matters, the confines of a deep-bellied hull can be daunting & spell utter ruination, aye, less ye be strong & persevere in the face of all shitstorming. Aye, it came to pass that 'pon the eve of our third day a fellow opened the hatch to distribute a meager ration of salted pork, but 'pon his hatch lifting me fist did collide most ferociously with his lateral malleolus, causing his ankle to buckle in splintered agony, aye, 'ponwhichtime me other hand brided him to his doom 'pon the dungeon floor, quietly freeing me crew & meself from our erstwhile despondent captivity. Once the deck was achieved, there was little in the way of trouble, as we hastily & forcefully dispatched of the cowardly vagrants that had outwitted us so recently. I for one recall me dagger, true & blazing sharp, grinning ear to ear with no less than four of me enemies & would-be captors. Aye, 'tis a violent life, this, but freedom from the captive belly of one'sown ship is easily achieved, & all is relative maties. So here I be again, posted atop me crowsnest, taking in me finest Spanish brandy, surveying the high seas again & spying me next battles, aye, for all is inertia, all unchanging, all a cannonball blasted towards fate, unyielding, unremitting, yer name spelled cold as day 'cross its blurring face & nought to do but watch it through to its end, lads.

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