Although difficult to be the most evil pirate on the Spanish Main, Captain Argus Baggywrinkle knew it was his calling. He took the responsibility seriously and so, when the lookout announced the sighting of a lone merchant ship, he gave the order to close.
“What colors she be flyin’?” he shouted up to the crow’s nest.
“Caw,” answered the crow, and was promptly backhanded by the lookout for its impertinence.
“The colors of home, sir,” the lookout said. “Do ye be wantin’ to attack an English vessel?”
It was, indeed, a moral dilemma and one which required much thought. “Absolutely,” said Baggywrinkle. “How am I to maintain me reputation if I show mercy?”
“Excellent point, Captain,” shouted the lookout. He raised the spy glass again. “She’s spotted us, sir! She’s turnin' to starboard. It looks like she’s goin’ to make a run for it!”
“Ha!” said Baggywrinkle and, liking the sound, repeated himself. “Ha! They shan’t escape me. I be Argus Baggywrinkle! Me name strikes terror into the heart of even the most hardened seaman. We shall capture the ship, force its crew to stroll the plank, and then bask in the glory of our ill-botten gooty!”
“You mean, ‘ill-gotten booty,’ sir,” said a voice from over his left shoulder. It was the first mate and best friend to the captain, Evil Edwin Malloy.
Baggywrinkle shrugged. “That’s what I said, ‘ill-booten gotty.’”
Edwin sighed. “No. No. Nononononononononono. You said--”
Just then something whizzed overhead and they heard the crashing sound of a cannon firing. Both pirates dropped to the deck and covered their heads with their hands.
“They be shootin’ at us!” Baggywrinkle said, incensed. He called up to the lookout. “Any casualties?”
“Just the crow, sir. It sustained a direct hit.”
“And?” As if in answer, a few black feathers drifted down and landed on the deck. “Well, that merchant’s got a lot o’ nerve, firin’ on us. Don’t they know who we be?”
“They’ve turned back toward us, sir,” reported the lookout. “And they’ve run up a new flag. They be pirates!”
“Well, of all the dirty tricks…” Baggywrinkle struggled to his feet and picked a feather out of his ear. “They just wanted us to chase ‘em. Who be it?”
“I don’t recognize the flag, Captain.”
“What’s it look like?”
“It’s got a black background and the white silhouette of a wombat in the center.”
“A wombat!” Argus turned to Edwin. “I know that flag. It belongs to me brother!”
“Wilbur?”
“The same.”
Edwin looked relieved. “Ah, well, then it’s settled! As soon as he realizes it’s you, we can…”
Baggywrinkle glowered at the first mate. “I hates me brother.”
“Oh?”
“And Wilbur hates me.”
“Ah.”
“Tighten yer garters and sharpen yer cutlass, mate, for it’s a battle we’re to be havin’!”
“What colors she be flyin’?” he shouted up to the crow’s nest.
“Caw,” answered the crow, and was promptly backhanded by the lookout for its impertinence.
“The colors of home, sir,” the lookout said. “Do ye be wantin’ to attack an English vessel?”
It was, indeed, a moral dilemma and one which required much thought. “Absolutely,” said Baggywrinkle. “How am I to maintain me reputation if I show mercy?”
“Excellent point, Captain,” shouted the lookout. He raised the spy glass again. “She’s spotted us, sir! She’s turnin' to starboard. It looks like she’s goin’ to make a run for it!”
“Ha!” said Baggywrinkle and, liking the sound, repeated himself. “Ha! They shan’t escape me. I be Argus Baggywrinkle! Me name strikes terror into the heart of even the most hardened seaman. We shall capture the ship, force its crew to stroll the plank, and then bask in the glory of our ill-botten gooty!”
“You mean, ‘ill-gotten booty,’ sir,” said a voice from over his left shoulder. It was the first mate and best friend to the captain, Evil Edwin Malloy.
Baggywrinkle shrugged. “That’s what I said, ‘ill-booten gotty.’”
Edwin sighed. “No. No. Nononononononononono. You said--”
Just then something whizzed overhead and they heard the crashing sound of a cannon firing. Both pirates dropped to the deck and covered their heads with their hands.
“They be shootin’ at us!” Baggywrinkle said, incensed. He called up to the lookout. “Any casualties?”
“Just the crow, sir. It sustained a direct hit.”
“And?” As if in answer, a few black feathers drifted down and landed on the deck. “Well, that merchant’s got a lot o’ nerve, firin’ on us. Don’t they know who we be?”
“They’ve turned back toward us, sir,” reported the lookout. “And they’ve run up a new flag. They be pirates!”
“Well, of all the dirty tricks…” Baggywrinkle struggled to his feet and picked a feather out of his ear. “They just wanted us to chase ‘em. Who be it?”
“I don’t recognize the flag, Captain.”
“What’s it look like?”
“It’s got a black background and the white silhouette of a wombat in the center.”
“A wombat!” Argus turned to Edwin. “I know that flag. It belongs to me brother!”
“Wilbur?”
“The same.”
Edwin looked relieved. “Ah, well, then it’s settled! As soon as he realizes it’s you, we can…”
Baggywrinkle glowered at the first mate. “I hates me brother.”
“Oh?”
“And Wilbur hates me.”
“Ah.”
“Tighten yer garters and sharpen yer cutlass, mate, for it’s a battle we’re to be havin’!”
8 comments:
Baggywrinkle? That is so funny, and I must say very manly. Oh, and he looks like my hot guy. I think I am in love with captain Baggywrinkles.
Arrr, Cappun Braggywinkle-- pup prayer to be breaded! I mean prepare to be hoarded! ..
breadboarded!
bearded!
Aw heck!
Dang funny stuff. Although... he may be hot and all, and we love him, but we ain't a-gunna marry him. We'll leave that up to the qualifiers in the listening audience.
And when he gave the order to close, wouldn't that mean the staff got to go home early?
"Awright, CLOSE!"
"What, now? It's the middle of the bloody afternoon! The after-lunch rush is about to start, Mrs. Dimpleworthy's got all the linen ironed, the candles are lit, the band is playing... And it's the height of the season! Why, a man would be mad as a galloping gollywog to close now! And-- and how do we inform the clientele when they tap on the glass, eh? 'So sorry, this pirate ship is closed for the duration, please try the next one further down'?! Faugh, sir! Faugh!"
Or so I imagine.
Worthy Humorists and Cretins,
I salute you.
Foodaddy's Daddy, you imagine this surreal scene of mopery and debauch because of your unfortunate morphine habit. I say keep it up, though. Your chemical dreams are most entertaining.
Wifey, I'm truly grateful for someone of the female persuasion to come along and call Stupid "hot". I'll leave the potential insults off for the moment. They will remain like the bowling ball carried to the top of a mountain--full of potential energy.
Respectfully,
PW
Baggywrinkle is for real, as SB pointed out to us during a rare personal appearance:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baggywrinkle
Is that a real Ginsu knife? And what's that suspicious nozzle he's thumbing with his left hand?
Whoa! I realized I hadn't commented on your pirate story! Coulda swore I done said something thunderously witty here.
Down to it then!
Um.
I liked the part where...
No, that's not good enough.
*snort* Baggywrinkle! Crows are funny. Snappy dialog is funny too.
Arrr, I hates Wilbur with multiple passions, mateyes and matesses!
I think Wilbur should turn out on close inspection to be a giant squid.
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