The body that monitors piracy around the world has reported a sharp rise in the number of ships crew killed in the first half of 2004.Feriocious they may be, but they have absolutely no flair for fashion.
Where is the lace? The salt-stained velvets? The red silk scarves? Bah. That one fellow is wearing an Incredible Hulk shirt.
Philistines.
9 comments:
*slides guinness & tequila down the bar*
would you like lemon or lime with that, or shall i just get you a straw? ooooh, don't sit there, sit here, at the embroidered bar stool that reads *preferred blogger*. it's for our special guests.
welcome! hope your monday isn't too monday.
snuggs
Dear me, it's as pleasant as the chiming of old bells to see you here, Smart Ken. I do hope you find the tequila to your liking? snuggs made sure we had the best in stock for you.
You are right to point out that the one gentleman adventurer sports a raffish moustache, but still it seems they're letting the side down, appearance-wise.
We friends of Gus must hang together (preferrably not in the literal sense of the word) while we await word of his fate. I don't suppose we know if it's to be a jury trial? And whether gifts of grog and comestibles (not to mention embroidered seat cushions for those dreadful benches in the jury box) are allowed under Guavan law?
Well, hello there.
The fashion discussion on said pirates drew me in.
Very funny, gang.
Oh! Hello Ken. How smart is it for me to be here, I'm not sure, but one quick drink should be fine.
This IS a LOVELY establishment.
Anyone heard from Gus? Me thinks the toad (and I say that with tenderness, now as I have mellowed a bit, thanks to Ken here) ran out to check in on the Democrats. He'll be back for the trial, I'm sure.
But still, you know Gus....where there's a party....
Gotta' run. Thanx Mrs. B!
Edna
That's quite all right, my dear. Mi casa es su casa, as a dear and very, very old friend of mine was wont to say.
*sets out the shot glasses*
\_/ \_/ \_/ \_/ \_/ \_/ \_/ \_/
a round of tequila slammers on me! *note to miz b: please deduct this one from my paycheck*
a toast: to absent friends and swift & favorable verdicts
*clink*
snuggs
*sets out the shot glasses*
\_/ \_/ \_/ \_/ \_/ \_/ \_/ \_/
a round of tequila slammers on me! *note to miz b: please deduct this one from my paycheck*
a toast: to absent friends and swift & favorable verdicts
*clink*
snuggs
Not so fast, snuggs me old light o' life, I refuse to dock your pay. This is coming out of the Very Odd Fellows' party fund, which is reserved for throwing very odd parties at very odd times for very odd reasons.
And this, I do believe, qualifies.
*She sneaks in to the bar unwelcomed, but no one knows, (she sees the three women on the blog, hangin out together. I don't blame, Ken. I do blame these three that attacked me for no reason, other than to attack me. They get what's coming to them. No reason for trying to degrade a blogger that wasn't degrading them. But, she can return the favor with full passion of the idea. Thank you very much. Somewhere in that blog, they have mistaken my nicesness for weakness. YOU MYRTIE, YOU SNUGGS, YOU MRS. BLUBRIDGE ARE BITCHES FROM HELL AND THAT IS WHERE I'M GOING TO SEND YOU IN THIS POST. Next time, perhaps you'll be kind to folk. If not, battle on.)
She goes up to the bar, asks for one pitcher of water and a bottle of tequila. She is handed the requests, unnoticed. She walks over to Ken and pours the whole pitcher of water over him and says, "Ken luv, I'm so sorry for this, but you will know, I mean that in the nicest least harmful way to you, darlin." She opens her mouth, takes a large guzzle of the tequila, pulls her pocket rocket that shoots fire out, and then breaths out the flammable liquid and ignites it. The flame stretches across all three bitches and avoids kind Ken.*
She then says to the ladies, who's hair and clothes are now aflame, "Welcome to nether Fuckuoka. You created it, you live in it."
She pours the trail of flammable liquid, circles in letter form, and then ignites it to trail her out the door. The burning bitches and drenched Ken Luv look and they read, "DON'T TREKK ON CODEI - LUV".
Deario. That wasn't one of my better japes. I'm afraid Ms. Codei took my play on her Japanese quip the wrong way. I merely wished to signal "Ah ha! First you were speaking as if you were a denizen of the Caribbean! Now you appear to be Japanese!" However, she seems to be under the impression that she was under attack. Must try to make it right.
It seemed like a safe enough jest, because "Fukuoka" is always funny. Ironically enough, in my travels I have actually been there. As I recall, it was not terribly scenic or picturesque.
No matter. It's all a misunderstanding, snuggs. Buck up and remember, no crying in the parlour.
Fortunately, these flames don't burn that hot.
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