Lamebeard The Pirate: Tales From The Bilge

When last we left Lamebeard the Pirate in Part I, he was being shelled with water balloons from his arch-nemesis, Gene Barber.

Barber sat down in his padded chair and started pedaling full steam toward the Cactus Wren. He was grinning like a maniac. He was going to ram me head on! He deliberately provoked an incident so he could attack me. It was the Gulf of Tonkin all over again. I had to think quickly, which was never me strong suit, especially after a couple swigs of the Captain. I hoisted me Jolly Pirate Fish flag and drew me trusty Nerf cutlass. I readied meself on me prow to board his boat as soon as he was in range. Then I noticed that the Shitzu was equipped with new elastic bumpers. Arrggh! He could ram me with nary a scratch to his boat. And that he did. The Cactus Wren shuddered as she absorbed the blow. She jolted to port and I went staggering backward into me seat. He kept pedaling forward. The Shitzu rammed the Cactus Wren again. Blow me down! It was like bumper cars on the high seas! I struggled to me feet and readied meself for the next onslaught. But that bilge sucker stopped short. He opened his ice chest and removed a large jiggly object. Shiver me timbers! He was armed with water balloons! He heaved a bright red one and hit me torso broadside. Arrggh! I was soaked like a pickled herring. Then he threw a blue one and then a green one. Each one hit its target: me face! Then he threw a dazzling orange one which knocked Pauly off his perch and off the Cactus Wren. Me Pauly was feeding the fish now. Arrggh! That oaf was thrashing me! I had to admit though. Those balloons were awfully pretty as they arced through the air and crashed into me noggin. Oh the colors!

That fiend Barber laughed hysterically. “You and your religion are all wet. Where’s your Flying Spaghetti Monster now, Lamebeard? Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

I was wondering the same thing when all of a sudden I heard the clarion of Olaf’s cell phone ring tone. From seemingly out of nowhere the Odinator, Olaf’s mighty paddleschooner, was closing in from the starboard side. “Stop harassing Lamebeard, you meanie!” yelled Olaf as he pedaled furiously toward the Shitzu. Blimey! I kept telling him he had to use some stronger language when ye’re threatening a scoundrel. Ye had to intimidate yer foe. Arrggh! He still had a lot of Mormon left in him.

It had a great affect on that jiggling jackal, though. I could see the terror in his eyes. He wanted nothing to do with Olaf and the Odinator. He attempted to steer away from me boat. But the Odinator cut off his only escape route. Olaf hoisted the Jolly Pirate Fish flag of the FSM and stood proudly on his deck. “Hear me you foul dude.” Arrggh! For Pete’s Sake, use ‘scurvy dog’ or ‘blaggard’. “Prepare to be punished for insulting the FSM and my friend Lamebeard.” He then took hold of a cloth and uncovered something behind his seat I hadn’t seen before: a Squirtmaster Deluxe water cannon. Begad! I read about them in Paddleboat Monthly; they pumped water from below and shot a high pressure stream of water at yer foe. That sonuvagun must’ve installed it when I wasn’t looking… or when I was drunk, which really is pretty much all the time. Hmmmm...Olaf was bagging some booty that he wasn’t telling me about.

“Duck Lamebeard!” yelled Olaf.

I turned and looked all around me for signs of a mallard, a coot or maybe a merganser. Aye! Mergansers are pretty ducks they are. “Where? Where be the duck?” I queried.

Olaf rolled his eyes. “Get down! Get down!”

Arrggh! Now he wanted me to dance. I starting hearing that classic disco hit, Jungle Boogie by the incomparable Kool & the Gang, in me head as I started to do a little boogaloo, kicking me knees up and down and waving me cutlass over me head. But I didn’t see how this was helping.

Olaf shook his head. “Just hit the deck, Lamebeard! Hit the deck."

This I understood. I dove for cover as Olaf turned on the water cannon. He aimed straight and true at that gluttonous glob and nailed him dead center. The force of the water knocked him clear of the Shitzu and into the drink with a thunderous splash. Arrggh! He looked like Moby Dick floundering in the sea beside the Pequod. Olaf jumped into his seat and maneuvered the Odinator alongside the Shitzu. He rose and leapt aboard the captainless vessel. He grabbed a Jolly Pirate Fish flag from his pocket and hoisted it up Barber’s small flagpole in the rear of the Shitzu. “Tis one small step for man; one giant leap for the Flying Spaghetti Monster!” proclaimed Olaf.

Barber protested from the water. “That’s my boat! How dare you!”

By this time, the Cactus Wren had floated close enough to where I could reach Barber’s bulbous bald head bobbing out of the water. “Take that ye scalawag!” I cursed as I whacked him over the noggin repeatedly with me Nerf cutlass. “Ye dented me boat! Look at the dents ye put in me starboard! You’ll pay for this, ye will!” Barber tired of me flogging and started to move away from the boats.

“That he blows!” I yelled as he dog paddled toward shore. Olaf took command of the Shitzu and pedaled in hot pursuit after the great beast. I too took to me pedals as well and followed in the Cactus Wren. It didn’t take long before before we had him cornered.

Barber looked completely defeated. “I give up! You win!” gasped Barber as he thrashed to keep afloat. “I’ll give you anything you want. Just don’t take my Shitzu.”

“I want yer Beer Baron 4000 ice chest; the chest that keeps hot things cold and cold things even colder!” I bellowed without hesitation.

Barber tried to catch his breath. “No,” he gasped. “I just got it. You can’t have it.”

Olaf held aloft a couple of Barber’s brightly colored water balloons. “After the damage you did to Lamebeard’s boat, I think you need to reconsider! It’s only fair.” He hefted a blue balloon up and down in his hand. “Besides, we know you got the money by pilfering from the collection plate. Doesn’t the Bible say, thou shalt not steal? It would be a shame if the people at Reverend Bilkwell’s church found out about their deacon’s sticky fingers.”

Arrgggh! We had him! Barber was tiring as he tried to keep his monstrous body afloat. Ye could see the gears spinning in his head as he pondered his options. Completely exhausted, he succumbed. “Alright!” he gasped. “Lamebeard gets the Beer Baron 4000.”

“And all its current contents?” I added.

“And all its current contents,” conceded Barber.

Arrggh! Sweet Victory! I finally got the better of that addlepate, Barber! We escorted Barber to shore and he hauled his exhausted carcass onto a patch of grass. Olaf maneuvered the Shitzu next to the Cactus Wren and he started removing the bolts holding the Beer Baron 4000 into place. Then he hoisted the treasured chest over to me. Arrggh! It was some heavy booty! I cleared a place behind me seat and set it into place. Blimey! A perfect fit! It sure looked fetching next to me lavender colored seats. ‘Twas a grand and glorious day! “Shiver me timbers! Let’s splice the mainbrace, me hearties!” I yelled. Some people had gathered on the shore and were cheering us on. Olaf boarded the Cactus Wren and together we sailed back to the Odinator and its fearsome water cannon.

“Arrggh Olaf! Ye sure saved me bacon. I thought ye had a dentist appointment this morning? And where did ye get the money for a Squirtmaster Deluxe?”

Olaf was beaming. “Whoa! One question at a time. First of all, I got to Dr. Molar’s office and he took one look at my teeth and sent me home. According to Dr. Molar, he’s never seen a more perfect pair of choppers in his life and I was wasting his time. How about that! Second of all, I’ve been making extra money selling Flying Spaghetti Monster merchandise on the web. You know, t-shirts, Jolly Pirate Fish flags, key rings. I’ve made so much I bought a Squirtmaster Deluxe. Who knows, if I sell some more merchandise, we can get one for you. Then we’ll have the most formidable fleet in the desert.” Arrggh! That Olaf was a clever bastard.

Olaf boarded the Odinator and we plundered the booty from the Beer Baron 4000. I managed to spot Pauly floating not far from the boat. I fished him from the briny deep and gave him a soggy spot on me shoulder. Then Olaf and me drank and sang sea chanteys for the rest of the afternoon. We watched Gene Barber eventually get to his feet and try to retrieve the Shitzu but the oaf fell into the drink again. He tried repeatedly but with the same result, utter humiliation. He finally gave up and trudged back to the docks leaving the Shitzu to float aimlessly near shore. Arrggh! Now it was his turn to make the walk of shame back to docks.

Since that day many people heard of our conquest and the ranks of pirates at Cactus Corners Lagoon have swelled. Even that clover loving Connor McGillicutty gave up his Leprechaunism, bought himself a paddleboat and converted to FSM. Apparently the promise of the stripper factory in the after life won him over. Call me crazy, but I swear I can feel the Earth getting cooler. Take that global warming!

Last month, we all went together and watched the premiere of The Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. Arrggh! It ‘twas the best film of the year bar none. That Johnny Depp makes it look so easy and that wench Keira Knightly never looked prettier. And that Davy Jones chilled me to the bone. Ye know he kinda resembled that scalawag Barber, he did.

Well that’s it for now, me buckos. Gene Barber has been keeping a low profile and Olaf and meself are enjoying our newly found hegemony. That Beer Baron 4000 sure holds a lot of beer and water balloons and if things go well with the sale of FSM merchandise, I’ll soon have a Squirtmaster Deluxe to match Olaf’s. Then our fleet will be surely be invincible. ‘Tis truly the golden age for the pirates of Cactus Corners Lagoon. Arrrrgggggh!