‘Twas a stormy night it was, up around the northerly western coast of Chile. My crew and I were stuck between Lucifer’s Reef and a storm that was coming in quick off our port. With no safe harbor in site, we engaged in the race of our lives down the coast to the Peninsula de Taitao.
I could tell that my crew was mutinous, as the majority of them had not rationed their supplies as they should have. The lucky one’s teeth had rotted from scurvy, the unlucky, were already dead.
I gave the first mate the watch as I went below for a quick swill of grog I’d been hoarding. As soon as I hit my bunk however, I fell asleep.
I did not stir again until the screams of “PIRATES!” jerked me from my peaceful slumber.
TIME OUT
I apologize, I had great hopes for this story, but it's taking forever and just isn't going anywhere.
The truth is... I've never been to Chile. I made this whole story up! I learned the Chilean Wombat Hornpipe from the discovery channel... I feel so ashamed.
[ April 05, 2005, 02:56 PM: Message edited by: Ironic Mustache ]