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THE CRIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINERS

At first their Man O’ War was mistaken for one of those faux tall ships that feature a young good-looking crew, the kind that hires itself out to ports looking to attract tourists to local business. Of course, after docking they participated in all six prohibited pier activities, including skateboarding.

 

As it was the evening of the Legion Halloween party, nobody took notice, except when Captain Morgan failed to win the best costume award, due to his rusty hook. The Skipper and his Nipper, nineteen-year-old Billy, the Cabin “Boy”, had dressed in their finery because it was Date Night. So they didn’t want to harsh their buzz by complaining. But cutlasses were drawn when the boatswain, Peg Leg Bates, only finished second in the jig competition.

 

Onlookers put the fracas down to the amount of grog the elderly Freebooters had consumed. They were all three sheets to the wind.The Barkeep was taken aback by their dubloons but was reassured that their pieces of eight could be redeemed for Canadian at any Bank of Hispaniola.

 

When they left the venue they were accompanied by a number of  local women intrigued by pirate gold. One of them actually claimed to be Edith Cavell! So there was plenty of pirate booty for the oldsters as well as the possibility of multiple cardiac events. Arrh, Matey!!

 

Still famished, the Buccaneers spied a restaurant with their name on it.  After a hearty meal of chilli, served by winsome blonde wenches, the party returned to the poop deck by torchlight, leaking methane all the way.  This combination ignited a fire while all hands were preoccupied with their Plus Ones. As John Lennon once put it, “Life is what happens to you when you’re busy making out”.

 

When the  burning ship listed to starboard and sank, some blamed Old Lucky, the Watch.  But how can you blame someone who is legally blind, deaf, and has had his nose cut off?   The rest of the crew shivered their collective timbers, as some Old Salts found the combination to Davy Jones’ Locker,  It was the worst thing to happen since the cat ate the parrot.

 

Now what?  From his sinking crow’s nest, the cockswain spotted a line of what appeared to be deserted houses  enough to billet the remainder of the crew and their groupies. It was a long way for the Arthritic Brigands, so they commandeered some bicycles and using Billy’s NAV app they pedalled their way through the pitch dark.

 

They determined to board them (the houses, not the Plus Ones), using grappling irons to inch up to their balconies. Due to fibromyalgia, only Billy was able to make it.  Once inside they agreed that should they encounter resistance there would be no quarter given because dead tenants tell no tales.

 

To their surprise their prize was virtually deserted. So they tacked up the Jolly Roger, claiming it for themselves. Under the Law of the Sea their prize must not have belonged to any other Scurvy Pirates before them. Fortunately there was no evidence that their new hideout had ever been previously connected to pirates at all.  At least not until they came across the condo fees!

 

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