September 19, 2007 at 7:04 am (Caledon, celebrations, original poetry/prose)

The Lady struts round the wee island, black leather boots up to her thigh, feather-flouncy hat pulled down low. She scans the watery horizon, and is soon rewarded with the sight of white sails in the distance. She grins, dark eyes sparkling, then skips down the hill to the dock, leaps aboard the small, raven-sailed ship moored there, and casts off.

The ship speeds directly at you, fast, fast. You scarce have time to exclaim, “Oh my” before the BOOM presses down on your ears and a hot smoking cannonball screams just over your deck, splashing, drenching you in warm saltwater.

Her grin is white and red, her laughter bright black.

Avast! Don’t yeh be knowin, today be a holiday! So’s if yeh’re goin ta be sailin me waters, yeh’ll either be celebratin wit me, or else feedin me kraken. Arrr!

Me ship is swifter’n a doubletime jig and me cannons loaded wit hot lead. I ave crushed teh skulls o’ tirty-tree men between me taes!

So’s be speakin smartly, else I punch hot smokin holes inta yehr ship an take yehr hornpipe for me own!

The Lady — characteristically behaving as a lady only in the broadest of senses — slowly draws her rapier, lowering into a fighting stance as she levels the tip even with your nose.

Speak! or dieeeee….


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