Ahoy mateys, last time we is left that ship sailing along under Bird Power. Which be steady, but sl-o-o-o-o-o-w. The passengers be clumping together and muttering like as if they be brewing up a mutiny.
But the captain he be one smart macaroon. He sez to them he sez, “Arr, but ye be a mixed bag o’ kree-turs. I bet you all gots you stories about why you be on me ship. Let’s hear ‘em.”
A bullfrog hopped forward. “Call me MZ, Spokesfrog – er, Croaksfrog. Here’s our story. Once upon a time we were happy in our pond, sitting on our lily pads and eating flies. Then word got around that witches were turning princes and princesses into frogs. Suddenly the pond was full of puckered-up fortune hunters hoping to bag rich royalty.”
“Those sloppy smackers were bad enough. But it was even worse when they stomped away going, ‘Shoot, it’s just a frog,’ like being a frog wasn’t good enough. We’re so over that. We want a place where it’s not a curse to be a frog.”
Shouts of “We hear you, brother!” “Frogs rule!” “Frogs forever!” spread around the ship, along with stomping and flapping and wagging and clapping. MZ wiped away a tear.
So did the captain. “Stap me vitals, that be one heck of a story,” he said, “So who’s next?”
“Awwwk, and that would be me.”
“Stap me vitals those rats they be eating us out of ship and…er, ship.” The cook grabbed a few rat traps outta the hold. He not be wanting to waste food so he be baiting them with rope cooked in oil and covered with salt and pepper. Yo ho ho, some of they rats with dim bulbs where they brains shoulda been fell for it. The cook he chopped them in pieces and cooked up a vat of some mess he called “Rat-A-Stewy.” The crew they not be swallowing that load of bilge. They cried “Rat-A-Phooey” and threw it back at him. One swabby piped up, “We’d rather eat our boots. They be like roast beef, right? They both be coming from cows.”
“Fine.” The cook grabbed a pair of boots that’d belonged to some poor lubber who’d got himself lost at sea. He pounded those boots with his trusty mallet, whacked them up with his trusty cleaver, and boiled them in salt water overnight with 7½ glugs of cooking rum. Next morning he dished it up. “Here be Boot Au Rhum. Eat hearty, me buckos.” The crew they be chewing up a bite or two of boot, then they be pounding they forks on the table and shouting something. Be it kiss the cook or kill the cook? The whole poop it be revealed next time.
“NOOOOO,” the oldest grizzliest pegleggiest eye patchiest swabby on board put in his two pieces of eight. “If’n we be throwing a cat overboard, we be causing a terrible storm to strike our ship. Even if she not be sinking, we gets us nine years bad luck.” Arr, they be damned if they does and damned if they doesn’t. They be taking a vote but some swabbies they not be voting and some swabbies they be voting for both sides.
Like all his tales, this one be happening on a pirate ship. Howsomever, this not be yer fierce pirate ship of story and song. This ship she was called the Gloomy Gus. Her flag it had it a weeping skull. And her crew they be the scuzziest of the scuzzbags. The sea doggiest of the sea dogs. The – well, you gets the idea.
Then one day the old ship’s doctor had him one too many flagons of ‘medicine’ and fell overboard in the middle of the night. The new doctor rowed out to the ship. He stepped aboard, spotted the crew, sniffed the ship, and wondered what crime he was being punished for. The crew be giving him their usual stink eye, but Morgan went “MROWWRRR” and rubbed against his leg. The doc bent over to give the cat a thank you thump. Wait. He leaned in. Was it – he leaned in closer. “Hey,” he said, “That cat’s…”
Meet me pals Slimy and Scurvy. If’n yer curses they gets stuck in yer craw and refuses to come out, all’s you gots to do is throw one of them in and anything it becomes they perfect mock curse. Such as for example, “You slimy load of bricks” or “You scurvy piece of paper.” See? It be working every time.
Such as for example when me old matey Maynard he goes “Pomme de terre.” That be French for “potato.” Now if’n sez it when he be sitting in a diner with a napkin tied around his neck he gets him a plate of white fluffy buttery pommes de terre.
“WAKE UP!” Jethro’s dog Spike jumped up and down on their bed.
The first time I heard of they shivering timbers I be but a witchling. Me pirate dad he whammed his thumb with a hammer. He started out going “Aw, shi…,” but then he spied me watching him so he finished up with “…ver me timbers.” I asked him what that “shiver me timbers” meant when it be at home.
He told me they timbers be the ribs of a ship. When a storm blows in it picks up the ship then slaps her back down. That be making her timbers shiver. The swabbies they gets all surprised and mayhaps a bit afeared so they sez to each other they sez, “Shiver me timbers.”
Baba Blogga Yaga 