Thursday, June 01, 2006

Crew-sing Around the Harbor

New Crew Members:
Bloodthirsty Pirate - Grant
Carpenter - Messiah
Co-Chef - MG
Spiritual Dancer - Deidre/
TBD - UFB

Title Changes:
High Desert Diva:
From Mutinous Crew Member to Mutinous Chef
Fresh Air Lover:
From Lowly Pirate Wench to Lofty Pirate Wench
Doug:
From Quartermaster to Quartermaster/Sous Chef


Ahoy, me beauties. I'm back.

Sorry for leaving you marooned for days, but you'll understand in time that my ways, though mysterious, always work out for the best. In this case, they appear to have allowed my crew to bond in the comments section of my last post, while at the same time cooling off certain mutinous parties that threatened the voyage from the outset.

When last I wrote, I was in casting about for crew in that maritime saloon called Starbucks. After pondering whether or not to make the serving wench taste the cold steel of my cutlass (no, that's not a euphemism), I decided to follow the local custom and wait on the line for my beverage.

When my turn came, I roared "Aye, serving wench. Get me a pint o' grog!" to which the she replied "Excuse me?"1

After twenty minutes of communicating via pigeon English and various hand gestures2, we were able to settle on an appropriately piratey drink called a Banana Coconut Frappuccino.

Drink in hand, I swaggered towards the comfortable chairs in the back of the establishment. Seeing the best seat in the house occupied by a landlubber typing away on his laptop, I strode bodly up to him.

"Away with you, afore I run you through." I growled at the young man.

He coolly looked me up and down.

"Who are you supposed to be?" he asked.

"I'm the dread Pirate Captain Gorgeous Tom Napier." I informed him.

"You can tell I'm a captain by my tricorn cap." I added, helpfully. "Now surrender the chair or I'll shanghai you and make you walk the plank"

He pointed towards to front door.

"Hey, isn't that Capitan Kidd over there? I'll bet that if you get him drunk, he'll tell you where he buried his treasure."

I turned to look, but saw only a line of people waiting for their drinks. Angry at being played for a fool, I pulled out my cutlass and spun back around to teach him a lesson only to be smacked in the face with his laptop.

When I awoke several hours later, they were preparing to close shop. Having failed in my mission to recruit additional crew members, I decided to take to the seas the next day to hijack a vessel for our adventure.

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1 I later learned that the serving wench's name was 'Barista', which lead me to believe that she was raised in an exotic locale and may not have been familiar with the salty language used by seafaring folk like myself.

2 I really need to find out what the locals mean when then stick up their middle finger.