Thursday 2 January 2014

George the Pirate


George the pirate jumped down from the Crow's nest.
His arm was raised in his pirate-patented parrot claw pose.

"Yaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" He shouted again. "CAAAW," this time he added the parrot noise that his old captain had taught him.

He started moving forward menacingly, growling softly under his breath. He wasn't really sure if parrots growled or not, but the response made up for it.
All around him the invading pirates stopped what they were doing, and stared at him.

"Good stuff George," he thought to himself. He turned his eyes in a slow circle, taking in the surrounding chaos, and reached his non claw hand down towards his pirate belt.

It was at this point that George realised that he had left his sword in the nest.
He also noticed that all of his shipmates were on the floor, most of them not moving.

The boarders closed in on him...


He woke to the sound of keys rattling nearby, and tried to sit up from the floor. He gave up when he banged his head against something and found that his arms and legs had been tightly bound with a perplexing pirate knot.
He looked around, and instantly recognised the shabby interior from his long stint as an apprentice pirate potato peeler.

Four years ago, when George had started his pirate apprenticeship, he had been put to work in the galley with the other pirate peelers. He had worked hard, peeling faster than all the others, and led the rest of the crew in the sea shanty choruses. After only a couple of days, he had been given his own room in the back of the galley with the peelings.
As the head chef had said, it was more efficient this way; fewer people in the kitchen, and he could put the peelings straight into the bag.
He could also practice his sea shanties whenever he wanted, which was a nice, because none of the other pirates seemed to want to join in.

He had worked in the room for 2 years, loudly peeling potatoes to the sound of his own songs: 'Yar, it be a pirates life', 'My pirate lady (would you be)' and his proudest piece, 'The eye behind the patch'.
George had always wanted to be a pirate poet. Things at sea just seemed to rhyme; "Peg and leg", "Ship and Clip", "Gull and Skull". One of the best things about being a pirate was that you never saw an orange out at sea.

George could still hear muffled noise on the other side of the door, the keys were rattling and it sounded like two people were arguing in hushed voices.
He rolled over onto his front and squirmed and slithered his way over the peelings and put his ear to the rickety door.

"None o' the keys work," said a gruff voice.
"Are ye sure ye've tried them all?" replied another, slightly gruffer voice.
"Aye, I'm sure. She said it was the one with a potato on it," said the gruff voice.
George squirmed a bit, and put his eye to a hole near the floor. Looking through it, he could see four legs. Three of them were wearing official brand pirate boots (r). The fourth leg was stout and manly down to the knee, but from there the pirate's stripy shorts came to an abupt end and his leg continued to the floor as a lump of wood, scarred with gashes and chunks. Near the top someone had carved a small penis shape followed by "Billy wuz 'ere".

"Hello," George said.
"Oi, what was that?" George saw the peg-leg pirate swivel and look around - clearly that was Gruff
"I think it came from in there," said the other pirate - That was Gruffer.

"I like your boots," George said, "are they real?"
"Whassat?" said Gruffer, taken aback by the talking door, "O'course they be real. I plundered 'em for m'self from the pirate bay in port-au-prince, not three days ago."
George heard a soft thump followed by a curse.
"Are ye quite done talking about fashion?" growled Gruffer.
"I was only answering his question"
Another thump.
"Well stop 'only' answering questions, and help me open this door ya pox ridden dopewit".
"I've already tried all the keys!"
"Oh," said George, "you just need to wiggle it a bit. Some of the peelings accidentally got into the lock, and now it doesn't work so well."
George knew that the peelings hadn't been put in the lock accidentally. Work had been boring sometimes, so he had come up with a game he had called 'peelings in the keyhole'.
He could't remember how he scored it right now though...


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