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They don’t even have buckles to swash

April 28, 2009

Psycho Dave is in my living room dressed like Captain Morgan and standing on my couch like George Washington crossing the Delaware River. And though I’m concerned about the cutlass on his belt and the one-shot pistols adorning his vest, I am relieved that he’s not messing up my bathroom or stealing bacon from my kitchen.

“Yar, he hearties!” Psycho Dave bellows. “Set a course for the Spanish Main!”

“You can’t sail the Atlantic Ocean on my couch,” I say.

“Will it at least get me to Somalia?” says Psycho Dave. “I have to go there and teach those people how to be real pirates.”

“What do you know of pirating, aside from your days of downloading everything off Napster?” I ask.

“More than you ever will, you scurvy dog!” says Psycho Dave. “Look at that recent pirate debacle a few weeks ago. Now who was the captain of that pirate crew? No one knows. How can you be pirates when your captain doesn’t have a recognizably cool name like BlueBeard or Captain Hook or Admiral Fistingham?”

“They’re Somali pirates, they probably can’t afford a cool name for whoever their captain is,” I say. “Can they even afford a captain?”

“But they don’t even have a cool group name either,” says Psycho Dave. “Terrorist groups have names. Gangs have names. Why can’t they spend five minutes to come up with a recognizable and marketable name?”

“And you’re going to provide them with such a name, as well as your services as a pirate captain?” I say.

“Damn straight,” says Psycho Dave. “From now on you will address me and my malnourished Somalian seadogs as Captain Psycho Dave Starving and the Fearless Floating Famine. And we sail the Seven Seas on the feared ship ‘The AIDS Harvester’ to quench our hunger for plunder!”

“Yeah, until a Navy Seal picks you off with a high-powered sniper rifle or a submarine shoots a torpedo at you,” I say. “Anti-Pirate forces have a bit of a technical advantage in the weaponry department.”

“But they don’t have my pirate cunning,” says Psycho Dave. “No quarter given, no quarter taken. Unless it’s a sock full of quarters, because I’ll be knocking chumps out all day with one of those.”

“Do you have a parrot to rest on your shoulder?” I ask.

“I have a Furby,” says Psycho Dave. “Now hand over your bags of Doritos. I’m commandeering them for a pirate party.”

Instead I kick the couch and make it topple over, sending Captain Psycho Dave Starving sprawling to the floor.

“Parlay! Parlay!” says the captain. “Damn it, I landed on my fucking keys.”

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4 comments

  1. maybe Anonymous Doug is the Captain. Who would know?


  2. My skydiving family has an annual pirate party.

    Grog + swords + eyepatches + airplanes + jumping out of last = big party w/ many regrets.


  3. “Furby wanna cracker?” *snort*


  4. Psycho Dave has keys… so he must have a house, or a car at least… hmmm, what would a psycho drive?

    I love it how they call them pirates, the australian 60 minutes did a story on them, I’ve never seen pirates with rusty AK’s and shoddy RPG’s but they did have boats. Tiny, tiny boats…



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