Location: the waves, the ocean

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

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Ship-shape Again

Top o' the mornin' to ye & ship-shape ye be, lads! I've enough with the dispiriting monologues of yore, aye I have, leastwise 'til it be morrow, & for now methinks it best to divulge some sundry details of adventures of a specific & recent nature, aye. Though it be me pleasure firstwise to encourage ye, whomsoever & wheresoever ye be, to return any & all gastronomically inclined balloons of any sort to the bo'son, who kindly assumed responsibility for the malodorous gift of the seas in the yesterday, aye. What bitter acrimony dehisced in such a contraption I know not, nor laddies is it my will to find out, for verily I say unto thee, Christ among us, such stench & bloated horridness I've naught come across since old Whiskey last changed 'is drawers. & by way of comment, too, I hereby enlist any honest pirate's aid in encouraging dear BeardBeard to lend 'is poor parrot a moment's peace. As I live, so shall I abide by the comforts of me bird, aye, but there comes a point, BeardBeard, when comfort gives way to a beastial cycle of desire. Watch & take heed, laddy, for yer bird may not yer matie be in the end. Aye, so concludes me salutations for the morn, & on to talk of rum & other glories. Some days back, in reference to me aureate chest hairs, methinks me posted a list of me spoils with an indefinite conclusion, as still we plundered & encountered anew. Aye, & salacious be the details, laddies. For such a wee man-of-war there be stowed in the fo'castle many a wondrous thing indeed. Among them, aye, we found: feathers of every color (though no birds proper, again I repeat) (to BeardBeard's dismay), a Sri Lankan newspaper with a front page story on sweeteners used in diet colas, a bounty of veritably pornographic pictures depicting gentlemen aport in conversation with various sea-mammals, twelve wooden kazoos, a model airplane minus the control, a complete series of Topps '87 baseball cards in excellent to mint condition, an entire box of scissors, cardboard cut-outs of snowflakes, several plastic tab frogs, a bazooka minus the ammunition, a goodly number of baboon skins & far too many bottles of martinelli's for christ's sake. I ask ye, & be honest, what type of pirate indulges in such libations? Where be the rum, lads, or the whiskey of Bristol, or the port of the Spanish main? Me gullet be dry, aye, but I'd sooner drink me piss than a draught of such a concoction. Blasted be these blokes we plundered, for in the end, we've naught but arcade trinkets! I say unto ye be careful of yer bounty, for if ye fight, know what 'tis you fight for, lads, lest ye should end up with a rubber chicken in one hand & a bottle of bubbly piss strapped about yer hook.


Anonymous Dirty MuleBeard said...

Martinelli's? This new generation 'as lost it's course. I fear no compass nor map shall straighten 'em. Drinking girlish concoctions, laying with parrots. I fear we be a dying breed.

10:52 AM  
Anonymous beardbeard said...

Your dissaproval won't separate me and my precious Ginnie (that's me bird). I've penned a song:

Children behave
That’s what they say when we’re together
And watch how you fly
They don’t understand
And so we’re

Running just as fast as we can
Holdin’ on to one another’s beak
Tryin’ to get away into the night
And then you put your wings around me
And we tumble to the deck
And then you say

I think we’re alone now
There doesn’t seem to be anyone around
I think we’re alone now
The beating of our hearts is the only sound

Look at the way
We gotta hide what we’re doin’
’cause what would they say
If they ever knew
And so we’re

Repeat chorus

10:56 AM  
Anonymous the bo'son said...

I'd give up me worldly treasures for the worries of bein' a captain, I say, so stop yer complainin', the lot of ye. Until you've dipped yer proverbial quill in the murky ink o' the octupus's poontang, until yer mouths have feasted on the briny golden showers of the ship-rat, aye, only then can ye find half the reason to moan as e'er besets a one such as me, being but a lowly bo'son and not so apt to beguile the lassies, be they femme, fish or fowl.

12:22 PM  

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