“Ahoy, ye landlubber! Welcome aboard Pirate’s Pride. Are ye ready to sail the big blue sea?” The unkempt burly Captain asked, his gold earring jangling at his gruff greeting.
“Um, I’m afraid there has been a terrible mistake.” The slight man answered. His spotless white clothes sat crisply upon slender form, as he pushed his glasses into place and set down his domed tray.
“Arrgh! Make no mistake about it, we be a sailing even now!”
“NO!” The thin man hurried to the port hole to confirm the Captain’s words; his shoulders soon slumped in dismay.
“Arrgh, have ye got yer sea legs yet?”
“My what?” he turned to face the Captain, his face clouded with dismay. “Your men took me right in the middle of my culinary classes! I didn’t have time to shop!”
“Har, Har! I can tell by the shade of green you’re turning the answer to that one.” The Captain continued to chortle. “Have ye been taking yer classes long?”
“The school is highly regarded. And yes, I have attended it for two years now. I am at the top of my class, or should I say was until you men off and carried me bodily away!” The thin man complained, gaining confidence.
“Arrgh! We needed a cook. Ye were free...”
“FREE?!?” he protested. “I was abducted!”
“Har, Har, you’re a Doctor too! Arrgh, I’ve got me some gout I’d like you to look at.”
“I think I am going to be sick.”
“Arrgh, perhaps a nice pint of grog will cure what’s ailing ya.”
“Perhaps two.” He muttered.
“What be your name sailor?”
“I am no sailor, I am a pastry Chef! And the name, if you must know, is Arthur, Arthur Choke.”
“ARRGH! I DON’T CARE IF YE BE PASTY! I BE THE CHIEF AROUND HERE!” The Captains lit. “Arrgh,” his tone softening, “but seeing as ye be new...I’ll let you away with the slip this one time, Artie.
“The name’s Arth...” The Captain’s raised eyebrows stopped Arthur in his tracks. “Never mind.”
“Arrgh! Did my first mate show you the ship?”
“You mean that big brute of a man with more tattoos than skin?
“You’re married to...?”
“Mary Beth, but it be bad luck to have women folk on a ship. Now, tell me if’n ye saw me ship or not!”
“Yes, yes I did.” Arthur stammered. “Your kitchen is quite...uh...efficient, and the hammocks look kind of....um...cozy.”
“Arrgh, I be glad ye be settlin’ in smartly. I wager ye’ll soon be a scallywag to boot like the rest of me men.”
“You’re going to kick me?” Arthur gulped.
“Arrgh, ye be a little empty in the crow’s nest Artie. I be hopin’ ye can make grub better’n ye be a pirate.”
Arthur reached for the domed plate. “Er, well then Captain, would you care for...”
“Humph! It ain’t ‘er’ it be “Arrgh!”. Do it again!” The Captain ordered.
“Ar, Captain, would...”
“Not ‘ar’! Ye sound like a sick pup. Put some bite into it. ARRGH!”
“No, ARRGH! Like ye be meaning it!”
“ARRGH!” Arthur screamed in frustration.
“That’s it. Now what ye be askin’ Artie?”
“ARRGH, Captain. Cupcake?!?”
“Avast, ye scurvy scallywag! The name’s not Cupcake; it’s Highlander! Ye’d best not be making that mistake again or ye’ll be walking the plank!”
“Uh...yes Captain, I’m terribly sorry.”
“Now, off with ye!” The Captain ordered causing the cook to prepare a hasty exit. “But Artie,” he added quietly, “leave the cupcakes.”
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