Dear diary,
Did I ever tell you how I became a pirate? Jeez, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you that. How long have we known each other? So many years! This is the type of thing that you should learn about someone BEFORE you read 4,000 pages of their private thots. It all happened like so:
I was born in London sometime around the early 1800s. When I turned twenty-three years old, I began pacing thru the fish market, enjoying the sights, when suddenly I got kidnapped by strange beings. These begins were not strangers for long, tho: for I found out, while we were dining that night, on their ship where they had dragged me, that they were formerly aliens from outer space who had traveled to earth in hopes of becoming full-time pirates.
“What did you do with your ship — I mean, not this one, but your outer-space ship?” I asked.
“You’re looking at it. We’re in it right now,” said Bartholomew. (He was one of the friendliest alien pirates, so he talked to me a lot and always answered my questions — I would say he was the leader, but pirates don’t believe in leadership: everyone’s totally equal, out on the sea.)
“But this is a wooden spaceship that’s built for sailing the ocean,” I observed.
“Yes, we repurposed our old aero-pod,” said Bartholomew.
“But why would you want to spend your life out here on the water instead of cruising at light-speed thru the heavens?” I asked sincerely.
“Kid,” said Pete (this alien named Pete was another nice pirate who was also very helpful), “you have no idea how marred, how ruined, how suct-dry the rest of this universe is.”
“Yes, it’s utterly drained of interest,” added Bartholomew. “We spent many millennia vacationing from one place to another, enjoying all the smells and feels of the different moons and stars; but, within a few lifetimes, each of these places would unfailingly grow dull.”
“The oceans of Earth,” explained Pete, “are the only area of spacetime we’ve ever encountered that never gets old.”
“So, once we arrived here,” concluded Bartholomew, “last Tuesday afternoon, we spent the rest of that day and the following morning renovating our ship, and using bitumen to waterproof it; for we KNEW that we had found our permanent home. All the universes in the multiverse couldn’t compare to these majestic bodies of water that you possess right here on Earth. Yes, even all the multiverses of the mega-world are but a lawn sprinkler in a thunderstorm compared to this zone.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s really something.”
“You said it,” said Pete.
“Well thanks for the exposition,” I added; “but, now, do you mind if I ask you why you chose to kidnap ME, of all people, from the London fish market?”
“Oh, that’s simple,” said Bartholomew; “we’ve been keeping up with your journals, as you post them online — or, rather, not online, cuz there’s not currently any Internet, for humankind has yet to stumble upon that technology; this is the early 1800s, I must remind myself; therefore I meant to say: We’ve been avidly reading each of your diary entries as you post them on the public bulletin board, in the middle of town, right in front of the church that’s shaped like a whaling vessel, where all the sailors congregate — and when we saw your latest blog post explaining how you ended up choosing piracy as your profession, we all just melted. ‘We gotta nab this one,’ said the crew. And the crew all agreed. So that’s why we nabbed you; the decision was unanimous. (We believe in democracy.) I hope the experience wasn’t unpleasant.”
“Not at all,” I said. “You all have soft hands, and a gentle way of transporting one from the marketplace. Plus I’m glad that you re-styled my hair after slightly mussing it.”
Here there occurred a tense exchange. “Mussing?” frowned Pete.
“Oh, sorry: I forgot, we’re on the ocean outside of London, so you probably don’t know informal terms used mostly in North America. ‘Muss’ is a verb which means ‘to make someone’s appearance untidy — either one’s hair, one’s clothes, or one’s lipstick & eyeliner, etc. — For instance, in the film Vertigo (1958), I think a moment occurs around the scene where Judy re-becomes Madeleine: when Scottie moves in to kiss her, she feigns concern for her makeup and gently rebuffs him, saying: ‘Oh no, you’ll muss me…’”
“Ah, now I understand,” sez Pete. “Thank you for clarifying.”
“My pleasure,” I say.
Then there’s a few moments of awkward silence, while we all muse upon the weirdness of that old movie.
“Well,” I say, just to keep things moving, “what’s next on the agenda?”
So the gang of alien pirates now explain to me the way that each day normally goes. They wake up early and climb out of their berths (that’s what we call our beds on the ship); then shuffle over to the mast and raise up the Jolly Roger, which is the official Pirate Flag, signifying that they are at war with everybody. And then they go sail the seven seas, looking for booty. Sometimes they use a treasure map; sometimes they just cruise around until they meet an official freighter, and then they take whatever cargo they can find. If they like any of the seafarers aboard, they nab them and make them honorary pirates. And everyone’s always happy to join our ragtag outfit, and nobody ever wants to return to their old job, even if they’re offered the opportunity.
So, on this particular day that I’m detailing, which was my first day out at sea with my new pirate friends, we ended up just trolling around for a while; and then we saw a tiny speck in the distance. So, wanting to be helpful, I shouted:
“Ahoy, maties: Yonder I espy what looks like a merchant vessel, either that or it’s a small isle — I suggest we’ve reached India! — or perhaps it’s the hump on some monstrous new aqua-camel, heretofore unknown to any Science Textbook! So unsheath your swords and grab your parrots, safely strap on your eye patches (make sure they’re covering your bad eyes, not your good ones) and let’s begin looting!”
“Bryan, peace, be still,” said Bartholomew. “You don’t need to use such funny language — we all speak regular English here, albeit with an extraterrestrial accent; and we already saw that speck that you’re hyping about. We are headed there this instant — one might even say that we’re dashing there, as we’re traveling at a speed of over 80 knots. That’s extremely fast, for a boat of this size. That’s becuz we have two of the best stokers tending the furnace of this steamship: Ajax and Samson are their names. I’ll introduce you to them later — for at present they’re covered in soot from head to toe, as they’re shoveling that coal so vigorously into Sheol (the firebox’s nickname). That’s why their arms are so muscular. They both come from the mercenary circuit, if I’m not incorrect.”
And Bartholomew was right, for the speck was growing larger and larger as we approached it. Now, before I could say “Sale prices!” we were climbing on board what turned out to be an ancient submarine from Atlantis.
We found crates of cargo on the ship. I took two nice sweaters for myself. Bartholomew got a wooden yard-figurine in the shape of a cat, which has a stake that you’re supposed to thrust into the dirt of your lawn, so that the thing stands up. I think it’s for Halloween. And the other pirates all got exactly what they wanted — even Gracchus — and we all were happy for the whole rest of the post-forenoon.
We spent the next few hours showing off our stolen goods to each other, and talking about why we had decided to yoink these particular items. The activity taught us a lot about ourselves — it sort of revealed a crucial aspect of each pirate’s soul. For if you decide to shoplift, say, warm cozy clothing, then it might mean that you find the sea-air a bit chilly. Whereas if you choose to help yourself to an oil painting of a golfer, it might mean that you miss the days of playing land-based sports. (On the other hand, it could mean that you simply have great taste in art.)
“Aarrg! What’s for supper,” one of the crewmembers shouted.
At once, the whole mob of us pirates grew totally silent; then, at a stately pace, the ship’s cook emerged from the galley.
The cook proceeded to announce, in a loud & clear voice, the menu for supper; and, after each item was revealed, we all cheered heartily, the way that warriors celebrate winning a crucial battle. The cook began, saying:
“Filet Minon with Risotto.”
(We all cheered: “Huzzah!”)
The cook continued his list, punctuated by our cheers:
“Roasted Braised Duck and Gnochi.”
(“Huzzah!”)
“Baked Pasta with Spinach, Lemon, and Cheese.”
(“Huzzah!”)
“Seafood Cocktail Surprise.”
(“Huzzah!”)
“Caviar.”
(“Huzzah!”)
“Also New York Strawberry Cheesecake.”
Here we all went fully berzerk and threw our harpoons into the air (if we had been wearing hats, we’d have tossed them in the air, instead; but none of us was wearing any headgear; so instead we tossed our harpoons), spazzing like shareholders when the value of their stock goes up.
But, as they say: what goes up must come down; therefore all the harpoons began to descend back upon the ship like rain: it was as if Zeus the Sky God had accidentally spilled a container of colossal toothpicks, right overhead. So each and every one of us pirates put our arms up to shield our hair, while wincing in expectation of the worst; but, as chance would have it, all the harpoons ended up missing us and jabbing into the main deck, where they remained upright & vibrating. And the vibrations made a funny noise. Then we began to laugh, probably on account of the stress that we had felt during those tense three minutes when we assumed that we were goners.
Then we all proceeded to the captain’s table to dine.
The cuisine was superb. I would give this restaurant an excellent review, if I were a food critic. And the conversation around the table was stimulating.
§
After the meal, we all went to take a nap.
However, just then, we noticed a foreign ship kept ramming into our hull. So we looked over to the side of the ship that was being affronted and saw that the aggressor was an equal-sized vessel containing a crew made up entirely of female pirates.
“What are you doing, ramming our hull?” shouted Bartholomew.
“We’re female pirates. We’re here to rape you,” said their leader.
“But pirates don’t rape — they only steal as much goods as they need to reach their full personal potential,” shouted Bartholomew; “I should know, as I am a pirate, altho a male alien pirate from outer space. And these are my friends, and they are all male alien or earthling pirates as well. So I’m afraid you’re out of luck. Our evil cancels out your evil, and we’re left with neutral morality and mutual respect.”
Here, Pete tossed the rope ladder over the side of the ship, and the she-pirates began to board.
“I’ll show you to your berths,” said one of the cook’s assistants, who had ascended up out of the galley to see what the fuss was about.
So all these female pirates, who, as it turned out, had just finished eating their own supper too (their cook had prepared for them a menu of Maple Bacon Salmon, as well as Beer Battered Fish, and Connecticut-Style Lobster), so they were sleepy as well. So we all napped together. Then, after waking, we shook hands; and they departed in peace, as friends. We all added each other to our respective Rolodexes, reasoning that we might as well keep in touch, since we all share the same profession and we’re technically colleagues: it’s smart to network — that’s how a lot of the finest piracy gets accomplished.
§
So I ended up spending years at sea with my pirate comrades. I dedicated the rest of my life to pirating. And every day, out there on the ocean, turned out pretty much the same as what I chronicled above. We’d usually find some merchant vessel or small island to raid, and the crates that we sacked were always filled with useful goods and services; so we lacked for nothing. — Granted, it’s not the perfect system, but it’s the best one that we have; and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I guess you could say I’ve become a true patriot, altho pirates don’t belong to or believe in any country (we’re at war with everyone, remember).
On a side note, I really like the blouse I wear. And I still have those two sweaters that I swiped on our first gig: they’re framed in a glass display case, which I hung on the wall next to my berth, to remind me of that initial plundering mission.
I should mention as well that we never hurt any living creatures. I don’t know what those female pirates were talking about when they threatened to assault us that day — that never happened again; so I just chaulk it up to being a fluke. I mean, thereafter and henceforward, we met she-pirates frequently, sometimes multiple times per day, but none of them ever greeted us so meanly as that one time. But we’ve since grown to be great friends with that first group of pirettes. As it turns out, they’re really great people. The best thing about she-pirates is that they follow the pirate fashion of only fastening the bottom button on their collared shirt, and this leaves their chest casually exposed to the ocean-air. This is a turn-on, but it admittedly makes it hard to get work done, because a great deal of one’s mind, which should be concentrating on looting, is preoccupied with admiring the flesh of their neck and breasts; that’s why we choose to work separately in groups segregated by gender: either all-male or all-female cruise-ships. But we meet each other so often out on the waters that it’s really as tho we’re all just one big family.
And we’re always kind to the animals, if we ever pillage a town that has pets or a circus. We let all the creatures out of their cages and teach them how to hunt for food in the wild; then we release them into the jungle. But sometimes a tyger or a goat will feel so thankful, and they’ll find you so trustworthy, that they begin to idolize you; so you’ll wake up the next morning to find that they’ve chained themselves to a fixture beside your berth. In that case, you can only teach them that they need not voluntarily enslave themselves — it’s OK to follow you around at work all day, but don’t bring the harsh ways of the outside world into the freedom of the pirate world: for here there are no employer-employee relationships; no, on the contrary: among us marauders, everything is consensual. And each pirate despoils only as much loot as is required for self-actualization.
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