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Captain Badass

Romantically, I am a bare-chested pirate, in command of my own vessel, one of those fancy, vaguely croissant-shaped ships, the kind they used in the Spanish Armada. Of course I wear a three-cornered hat, and we have hoisted the skull-and-crossbones. My limbs are intact and I do not have a parrot, but during moments of introspection, in my mind I know I am a pirate. I have plundered and raped, murdered and purloined. I have climbed ropes with battered daggers clamped between my teeth. Like so many casinos, wonderlands and Spielbergs all rolled into one, the life of a pirate is dangerous, filled with peril, and I have knifed many treacherous hearties, rendered unto the depths many bound maidens. I carry a small pistola tucked into a thick brown leather belt, and the legs of my pants are billowy and light dances on the material in the wind. I am unshaven, riddled with scurvy, and I drink grog and thump my stein on the table when thirsty. I find myself speaking unfamiliar words, barking orders, being menacing and disagreeable. I am a tyrannical pirate. My shirt was once white. I urinate on my hands to keep the skin tough for all the hoisting that must be done on a pirate ship. My waste goes overboard and I rarely wipe, I cannot swim, my teeth are dull and loose. My nemesis is a handsome admiral, and his shadow is cast over my every action. I pull out and tuck myself away before I have even finished ejaculating, to allow my comrades their turn. Our loot is divided equally, though naturally a larger portion goes to me, and we sail about the Caribbean burying large trunks filled with treasure. The sails above me breathe in, breathe out, and their sound soothes me as I tear into fresh-cooked chickens, pigs, swallowing wine and bellowing, spraying food and grog across the table. My trusted aides help me draw elaborate maps by the light of an oil lantern. I smoke a long pipe and can peel coconuts with my bare hands. I am hopeless at navigation and cannot divulge a compass from the stars. We sail about aimlessly, with no set purpose, appropriating our loot where we can, with the admiral always in pursuit. I am notorious. I woke once in a cold sweat, and found a knife at my throat. I have shot men in the face for laughing when I pass wind. Others have shot at me simply because of who I am. When I am lonely I play a fine piano which has been installed in my captain's quarters, and beautiful notes dance along the length and depth of the ship, lulling my crew to sleep. At night, I lean over the bow, and watch dark shapes move about in the water.

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