Master Bastard
Classtard

Popular Irony unfinished

Tales of Filth and Fancy

Listen here, lad!  Buy me a grog and I’ll give you the tales of filth and fancy that I experienced in my years as a pirate!  Oh, I can tell about contracting the rough bumpies while shipwrecked with a clan of headhunting fornicators.  I can even share the exciting story of the time I personally plugged the angry hole of a shrieking banshee. 
But first you must know about how I came to be Captain Hank Throbbingflesh.  You can’t just decide to be a pirate, boy.  You must be chosen by a crew, and making an impression on these hardened sea-dogs is a difficult task, indeed!  But I know their weakness.  Their weakness is the sea, and the solitary boredom that she brings.
I started frequenting the pubs at the harbor, and waited for a pirate ship to make port. I shaved my mustache and beard, discarded my hat and put my long hair into a ponytail, and made my way to the pub after dark.  I ground my rusty button on many eager gentleman bundles, but it convinced the crew that they could not do without me two days out of port.  That night the drops of sweat fell on my back like rain, and I spent the better part of the morning coaxing pirate hair from the back of my throat.  I promised myself that I would never play the bottom bouncy again, and it would be my sword that would find it’s home in a man-scabbard from here forward. 
When I boarded the ship that day the men did not recognize the man before them.  In full regalia with my hair down I stood as tall as my sore thighs would allow.  I knew I had garnered some respect when I was given my first job on the ship, and it wasn’t doctor duty.  That is the worst task in all of piracy, and the “doctor” spends all his time draining boils and staring at diseased penises.  I had dodged that undesirable task, and landed in the kitchen.  But only a couple nights out of port, the crew came to claim their second servings. 
I had prepared for this eventuality, and knew that to take the group down I would need to attack the leader.  Gralph was the largest man aboard, and he had the sexual appetite of the devil himself.  When he burst through the substantial door that led to my quarters I was immediately cornered by six deckhands.  Gralph eyed me over and ordered the other men out of the room.  They must have told him about my techniques, the drooling dangler and the rotisserie spin.
When the men came to claim their sloppy seconds they were shocked to see the scene.  I was so deep in a clearly unconscious Gralph that when I stood to defend myself his limp body came with me.  The sight of me wearing such a formidable man like an obscene Siamese twin sent a message to the whole crew.  I became first mate to the Captain, and took the first step in a sordid journey to lead my own ship.
I will finish the tale after a few more grog, boy.  Now follow me to the outhouse, I have a hook for a hand and one eye.  I am going to need some help aiming.