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Subject: Avast ye scurvy kittens, there be pirates about! rss

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Joe J.
United States
Colorado Springs
Colorado
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The following document was found buried in a small chest on a deserted island somewhere in the Caribbean. This island is located in the center of a group of smaller islands that have been deserted for many years, but artifacts uncovered near the dig site confirm that there was once indeed pirate activity in this region. Found with the smallish book was a broken jug of Captain Morgan’s rum, an empty bottle of Tropicana sunscreen, and a back issue of Wooden Leg.

This here be the writings of me personal journal, set down in the year of… ah hells, I canna remember.
Me name be Handsome Joseph, and I be Captain of the Vermicious Kenid. There be those that calls me a pirate, but there be those upon the seas far worse than me. Me biggest advar… adavas… enemies be called by monikers that still put fear in the hearts of decent folk. The most vile be Aimee the Prude, mistress of the Melted Popscicle, but there be others. Wes the Tall and Bald, who sails the Good Ship Lollipop, and Nebbish John the Illiterate, who commands his crew aboard the Desperate Susan with a bullwhip and a stutter.
The tale begins the 24th day of February, when I set sail for the island of Hull, hoping to barter with the natives for strong wood to make more cargo space for plunder. We took a good supply of glass beads, blankets and Pauly Shore DVDs for trade. Before we could make anchor, who should sail into view but Wes the Tall and Bald. Old scores we have, and he was of a mind to settle them this day. The Lollipop be a fast schooner that he won after a game of Carcassonne one night at the Bent Fork Tavern (word be he kept extra tiles up his puffy sleeves). He be a cheatin' dog, as all know.
The Lollipop outmaneuvered the Kenid and fired a salvo that scorched our sails but did little other damage. We returned fire, giving the fargin bastige a six-gun salute that nigh left him full of holes and limping. The scurvy dog fled the island with his tail between his legs. Me own crew threw taunts and dill pickles at the cowards. We did plunder the island, finding many doubloons and many chests. The natives accepted our trade (exceptin’ for the DVDs), and built a good hold in the Kenid.
The native spoke of other battles fought on other islands, specifically of how Nebbish John was trounced by Aimee the Prude on the isle of Cannon. They also spoke that Captain Hook himself be sailing these waters. This be devilish news.

Next we set out to gather more crew, as several had vamoosed with nubile native girls. There we met with the Prude one, and in a quick exchange of cannons sent her fleeing. It seems that her cannons were defective and could no hit the broadside of a barn. Our shots be more true, and put many holes in the Popscicle near the waterline. She cussed me fierce, reminding me of me dear old Mum, yet her face be twisted and wrinkled like a prune. Again, me own crew threw many insults and deviled eggs at their retreating backs. On the isle we found much coin and a few chests, and hired almost a full ship of crew, promising them riches and Hooter’s hot wings.
The crew thought we should make the Kenid faster, so we embarked to the island of Sail, where the natives weave great rolls of strong cloth from palm tree leaves and eel foreskins. The natives all had big hair and wore weasel fur, and were happy to accept our DVDs as trade. Hidden in the jungle we found a little gold, but many chests, thus filling the hold of the Kenid.
Word again reached us that our foes be repairing their own ships, and be seeking revenge against us. The Kenid be crewed by the brave, and we laughed at our enemies and called them stupid.
Thus our days did pass as we turned the bow to Treasure Island, there to bury our plunder and make maps on the back of bubble-gum wrappers. Me first mate say we be the most feared ship on the seas, but Aimee the Prude be almost as feared.

Months did pass, and the Kenid did see many more battles, and we took much damage from Wes the Tall and Bald, forcing us to Pirate’s Cove for repairs to our cannons. We visited the islands, flirted with native girls, and buried more chests on Treasure Island.

Aimee the Prude did sink Captain Hook, gaining much fame. Rumors on the islands said she was using much gold to get a boob job to lure a man to his certain doom. Such tales are the stuff of nightmares. Still holding a grudge against the Kenid, she accepted a Privateering commission and did set the Royal Navy upon our heels. The battle was fierce, but the Kenid rallied strong and sank those blue-blood ninnies. Our fame rose, but the Prude one was still more famed, causing other pirates to chortle at us in taverns and scrawl graffiti on the side of the ship. We decided to hunt down the Prude and cause much damage to her boo… ship.

As the year drew to a close, we met at last with Nebbish John the stuttering illiterate at Cannon island, and we infuriated him by using big words and tossing Scrabble tiles at his crew. His ship’s sails were much damaged from an earlier encounter with both the Prude one and Wes the rapidly unfamous. Though he hit us a broadside attack, we aimed for his sails and made him run away like a scared little girl. No plunder remained to be found, but the natives make fine and dandy cannons, and we replaced those damaged by Wes and someone hiding salt water taffy in the barrels.

As this year ends, we hang our heads in shame. Aimee the Prude One found the greater fame with 56, Handsome Joseph was almost as famous with 51, Nebbish John earned 46, and Wes the Unfamous found only 39. He left the seas forever, rowing a tiny boat after his embarrassed crew set him adrift with only Triscuit wafers and goat cheese.

I be retiring now, to spend me gold on lottery tickets and wine coolers. To whoever be finding this, may ye have more luck than me, and may ye never meet up with Aimee the Prude (who remains single, by the way). If ye be liking me tales of low adventures, raise ye thumbs and fill me jar.


"Arrrrgh!”
 
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Derek Mitchell
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Funny stuff. I'll have to have my group come up with names for themselves and there ships next time we play this. We'll just have to hid the deviled eggs and pickles. That kind of stuff can ruin a board.
 
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Jeffery Hatmaker
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An' mind ye the devils from pickled eggs! Aye, there be nuthin' fouler in heaver or airth than the stench of the pit that erupts from a scabrous dog's aft end what's been washin' down pickled eggs with copious draughts of ale. Them's the worst broadsides a sea dog can survive. Foul's the riggin' on yer poopdeck to be sure! The horror... the horror...

Cap'n Beardless, One-eyed Jack
 
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