Shipmates,
As some of you—those attuned to the ways of
the sea*—may have gathered by now, the Dread Pirate Dewey no longer sails under
a single mast! That’s right dear readers, this old salty dog has met a fetching
female buccaneer, looked her square in the rum-reddened eye, and cried “aye
matie!” with a traditional pirate grasp!**
Now, my most attentive readers well know
that I am not one to tell tales out of school, as they say; no! The Dread
Pirate is as much known for his chivalry and gentlemanly tact as for his rippling
masculine physique and saint-like humility. So why, then, do I pen these very
lines describing the most private of personal experiences? Why reveal to the
slack-jawed plebs—who love nothing more than the opportunity to tear down their
betters in order to assuage their own petty jealousy***— that the otherwise
impervious Dread Pirate has a human side? Much like my fictional
counterparts,**** would it not be best
to maintain a secret identity, a double life as it were, in order to protect
not me—the Dread Pirate Dewey needs protection from no mortal hand!—but those weak,
merely human vessels with whom I share certain soft feelings?
These arguments do carry weight, I readily
admit, but when one spends every day cavorting in the Caribbean heat with a sun-kissed
pirate wench,***** when every night is a Bacchanal feast of fun and rum in the
Pequod’s always saucy Officer’s Bar, yea, when every day you feel as happy as a
privateer with a dozen newly-split skulls laying beneath your blood-soaked
blade, you feel the need to sing to the world of your joy!
It was one of the high holy days aboard the
Pequod when I first laid eye upon the Amazon who has stormed the fortress of my
heart. We were feasting the Saint, holy Patrick of course, with the traditional
libations, when a blinding light tumbled your humble narrator from his perch at
the bar! What was that alluring sparkle, that El Doradian glitter of earthly
delight visible from 30 paces across the mass of sweaty pirate bodies swimming
in the smoky sea of the Officer’s Bar? As you can imagine, I quickly began
swinging my mighty ham-like fists about in order to clear a path, and as the
sailors were felled like so many giant redwoods, the twinkle that first
attracted this pirate’s eye revealed itself—twas the eye patch of the most
bewitching female buccaneer this old plank walker has seen! Her patch was so
resplendent with the majestic jewels pilfered from the holds of our floating
prey that the most precious of rubies were inset with the most cleverly-cut
diamonds! Her long blond locks were as shiny as a seal’s hide in late August
after years of sea salts and sun that make any real pirate’s hair a thing of
envy among even the most discerning land-based salon frequenter! And her
shoulders! Oh her sun-browned shoulders! We all know how fetching a
brilliantly-coloured parrot is perched upon a pirate’s shoulder—I myself have
been known to sport a charmingly-idiosyncratic orange and brown Macao from time
to time—but this young lass sported not one, not two, but 7 fully-grown birds
across her back and shoulders! The very height of fashion! And oh! how they
squawked! What could bring more joy to an old ship pillager’s heart than the
sight of this beautiful woman covered in a tropical rainbow of feathers amidst
the fumes from the cheap rum?
And if her raiment was colourful, than her
language was even more so! Not an oath under the sun she didn’t know! So we
cursed and we caroused, singing all the greatest pirate melodies together in
perfect harmony; we drank and we fought, a-swinging our fists together in
unison, leveling the rowdy sailors to our left and to our right. The place was
demolished, half our compatriots in the infirmary, and our bar bill
astronomical. It was a good night.
She
hails from the sunny stolen lands of Old Mexico, my new-found mast-mate.******
A woman of gentle means, she took to the high seas in search of thrilling
adventure and daring do, and lo and behold, she found the Dread Pirate Dewey!
So we have been plundering the bounty of the Caribbean trade for over a month
now, and our pirate’s pact is a thing all the decent Northern sea-goers fear!
Aye, when these honest folk see our colours flying, they run and scream, “Run
friends! For here comes our doom! Hide all your jewels, stash all your gold,
squirrel away all of your best DVDs, for lo! across the bounding main comes the
Dread Pirate Dewey and the Equally-Dread Piratess Dewette!”
*And my Facebook page.
**Figuratively speaking that is; I have yet
to meet a woman that considers a spit-soaked handshake or guttural pirate
noises to be an appropriate method with which to mark the beginning of a
romantic relationship.
***You, of course, do not number among
these unwashed peasants.
****Batman, Superman, Bill Clinton etc.
*****Although, the Pequod has left the
safety of the Caribbean waters for more Northern ports, but that’s the meat for
another meal!
******That’s a nautical term. Get your mind
out of the gutter.
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