The sweat glistened on the manly chest of the pirate as he brushed the unruly mop of burnt gold hair from his forehead.
“Sa’mel,” the burly pirate bellowed, “where be ye? Avast lazin` around.”
“Aye, Captain,” First Mate Sa’mel peeked at the broad-chested pirate from the hold. Running his hand through his verdigris hair he asked,
“What be yer orders?”
Ti’Jimon puffed out said broad chest. “I be searchin’ fer th’ Prince Spock. He who be held sway by th’ evil sorceress T’Pring.”
“Sa’mel climbed up until he stood next to his captain. As they both surveyed the horizon, he spoke.
“Yes, Captain. Thar us nay a more vile ruffian than th’ dreaded T’Pring.”
Ti’Jimon raised his manly hands and rested them on his slim, albeit, manly hips.
“We must use ever’ weapon in our arsenal. We must ensure th’ safety o’ th’ prince an’ assure th’ lad’s safe return.”
“Thar she be,”bellowed Kevin, the lookout. He pointed to the large vessel that appeared almost like magic.
“Th’ SS Scurvy Cur. Get th’ canons ready,!” ordered Ti’Jimon.
“Aye, Captain,” Sa’mel replied.
The thunderous boom, the noxious smelling fumes and the billowing smoke caused the men to choke as they closed their eyes and covered their ears. Once the smoke clear, the crew looked across the expanse of the water.
Kevin’s eyes bulged. “She’s still afloat, Captain.”
Ti’Jimon tossed and impatient glance up to the crow’s nest. “I can be seein’ that Mr. Riley.”
The man climbed down and grasped the captain’s muscular arm.
“What can we do?”
The Pirate Ti’Jimon raised his other muscular arm, yes he had two of them, and pimp-slapped the quivering mass of jello masquerading as a man.
“We fire th’ number two canon.” He turned to his First Mate. “Fire!”
“Fire!” Sa’mel echoed.
Once again, the crew was blinded and choked by the fumes and smoke that blew into their faces. And when the smoke cleared...
“Blast ’t! She`s still thar.” Montgomery pointed at the offending vessel.
Mouth agape, Sa’mel stared at the other ship. “What do we do now?”
“Let me think.” Ti’Jimon rubbed his heavily bearded jaw as he paced the deck. He looked over the see the other crew making faces and laughing at them. In front of them was the evil sorceress T’Pring; she held a struggling Prince Spock by her side.
“Your weak canons cannot penetrate the might that is my protective spell,” boasted the snarling sorceress . “Do your worst. I shall arise victorious.”
Ti’Jimon narrowed his eyes as he watched the other crew jump around like monkeys. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers.
“I`ve got ‘t. Brin’ ou’ th’ super-secret, super-duper guaranteed t’ defeat `em Plasma Launcher.”
“Captain” gasped Kevin, who had pulled himself to his feet; he left the blood streaming down his face. He was too in awe of the captain’s prowess to wipe away the blood. “That’s too cruel.”
Sa’mel nodded.“That weapon will totally obliterate th’ enemy.”
Ti’Jimon’s eyes were like steel. “Get ’t!”
“He did what!?!?” Winona tried not to come away with a handful of hair as she tugged at it. Her other hand was gripping the small cell phone so tightly that it threatened to crack. “No, our son was not raised by jackals...”
“Come on, Sam." Seven-year-old Jimmy lugged the suitcase to the open window. "Before she gets off the phone.”
Sam looked out and down. “I told you that moms don’t appreciate the use of secret weapons.”
“No, m’aih of T’Pring, urinating on one’s 'enemies' is not a practice that we have imparted to our child-”
Jimmy hoisted the suitcase out the window. “I hear Europe is good this time of year.”
Sam climbed onto the sill. “I think the Foreign Legion is still taking recruits.”
M’aih - mother
Hope you enjoyed it.