Pirate's Log Book

Commodore Curlybottom, Dread Pirate in Training.

T'has been an eventful week at sea. While we thought the spring she be a-burstin' with tulips, we got another boatload of white, cold, fluffy stuff n' we had to pull out our wintery coats again. There'd been a thaw earlier in the week, n' I had the chance to go out with the Captain on an away mission... I'd have been better off dancin' the hempen jig! She made me walk the plank again, and this time, by the time I managed to dry, me dungbie looked like the back end of a sheep. How insultin'! How will the buxom wenches take me seriously now? Apparently me coat stank o' dead gulls n' mud n' goose by-products n' the Captain couldn't bear the thought of sharin' her quarters with me in this state. Wouldn't even let me up onto the poop deck! She took me up to the plank with the look a pirate has on his face when he's handed a paper with the black mark on it. Part terror, part disgust, part nausea...

Life with the Navigator ain't bad. He likes to be a-playin' fetch n' wrestlin' with wee pirates like me. Been teachin' me the ropes o' drinkin' out of the Big Pirate Dog Water Bucket. Apparently we don't get to splash water all o'er the deck, no matter how more expedient it would be fer mornin' chores. I get to hornswaggle his icecubes when he drinks cold grog. I likes to chew on his beard, and in the mornin', I leap up onto the bed n' grin at him while wigglin' me pantaloons. Seems to make him and the Captain happy, so I grin all the time now. Still be doin' the puppy-pretzel dance when I do, too.

I dun been more insistant lately about getting me way, and the Captain suggested turnin' me over to the ship's powder-monkey n' firin' me out of a cannon! Maybe I should sit tight n' stop tryin' to engage in mutiny.

I had me first theraaaarrrrpy assignment this week when Uncle John lost someone at sea. Darn that evil sea... she's bein' temperamental and I don't like it one bit. There've been lots of strangers on me ship, and that gives me the Jonseys a little - especially if there be people everywhere n' they all be upset! I gave plenty of snuggles, especially to Uncle John and Auntie Amy. I was good... until I told one person off when she tried to pounce on me Uncle Chuck. That's ME Uncle Chuck, thankyeverymuch, and strange, screeching, wild-haired wenches shall not mess with him! YARR! So I nipped her in the hip. Deserved it, if ye ask me. The Captain wasn't so pleased with me n' told me so, but I still think she'd have harmed me uncle Chuck had I not done anythin! YARRR! Of course, everyone thought it be funny n' that I wanted to play too, but I tells ya, I was FIERCE! Honest.

But those ship doctors, let me tell ye, I don't trust 'em, no matter how nice they seem n' how much dehydrated liver they be a-carryin' in the pockets of them there white coats. Thankfully, this place isn't the same - the torture chamber is operated by a lovely wench named Molly who gives great belly rubs to quiet and friendly pirates. Now, since I be a-knowin' the Captain can actually walk away from the torture (and better than she walked *to* it, I might add), I sleep through it, only sometimes smoochin' her face through the torture bed. It's got a smoochin' access porthole! Yarr.

I got me some new hardtack now - a far more suitable meal for a pirate. It's got fish n' potatoes, n' I don't even have to prepare either! That's a good thing, because peelin' potatoes is difficult when ye don't be havin' opposable thumbs. Way up there with Dog-Jail mechanism operatin'. The Captain and the Navigator claim I be less cranky now n' doin' better. Maybe they'll start givin' me decent grog and grub now. I know there's a merchant who sometimes comes by where our ship makes berth - he'll be a-comin' on Monday with some supplies from his big brown boat. He usually knocks on the door and waits for the Captain, but sometimes he just rows away. Probably afraid of the fearsome crew we be. Yarrr! Sometimes he slips us some milkbones, but don't tell the Captain that.

All paws on deck!

~Pirate.