"Captain 4! Noooo! Don't! Please! Noooooo! Murderer! Rapist! Vile sick human being! Heathen! Savage! ..."
The listen of curses and obscenities just went on into the night air. What was happening to Captain 4 will not get written down here, but trust me, it wasn't pretty, and no lame references or witty word play will be used when discussing the matter. There's a time to be serious, and there's a time to fuck around. Captain 4's death is a time to be serious.
Captain 4 was a man among horses. A Houyhnhnm among savages. A king among peasants. A bourgeois among proles. A commisar among the people. He wasn't well known. He didn't do it for the money or the fame. He did it because he had to. He know what it was all about (or atleast he pretended very well), and he laid it down and rocked out.
The name sounds stupid. Yes, it's ok. I know you're thinking it. I know what you've been thinking this whole entire time as I relay the chronicles of Captain 5 (who may or may not, be I). But did you ever think, that maybe you- the reader, the listener, the lover- may be the stupid one, and just may not know that much about all there is in this world? Maybe you don't know about the importance of numbers, and the importance of captains, and the importance of numbers and captains.
There are times for stories of the manliest (but not in a sexist way) motherfucker in the entire world, but this isn't one of those times. It's time to step back friends, and talk about the shit behind the shit. No more shit blizzards or shit storms or shit stains or any of that. No no. It's not time for any of that.
Captain 5 wasn't always named Captain 5. He had a name before that. He used to listen to his discman, which he put in his hoodie (it wasn't a Tool hoodie, he would've wanted you to point that out). His name will not be written. You imagine that you are the future Captain 5, if it helps you sleep in your pathetic miserable life. He had liked to read books. A lot of books actually. From the depressing futuristic stories of feminists, to the stories of failed geniuses in the black forrest, he enjoyed reading it all. He thought he was smart, although he also thought that he wasn't the best judge of his own smartness, and he probably wasn't all that smart, and regardless of this still thinking he was smart.
He lived in a western countries. One of the rich ones that had morals from a moral authority. It was a church perhaps. Or maybe it was the church. The people didn't believe in the church, and usually made fun of it, but they still went along with many of the ideas of the church, as if they were a part of human nature. Captain 5 did the same. He was a staunch agnostic.
He wanted to get a liberal arts degree, because it'd be rad, but he never got a job, and didn't want to waste money on something that wouldn't get him a job. He was very leftwing, but still cared heavily about financial security.
The dramatic shift from cliched middle class to the muthafuckin' man was a miraculous one. Like all things miraculous, it really can't be explained in a logic or rational way.
BAM!
BLOODFIST!
"Fuck this life! Fuck it all!"
"What's that [future Captain 5]?"
"I don't need this shit mom! I'm going on the road!"
"But son, I've given up my life for you! I love you son!"
(His mom was really sad)
Ok ok. So I guess reading On the Road isn't that miraculous, but it was only just the start. Usually what happens when someone read said book (and the narrator really feels the need to explain, that like with all narrations he does, he is talking out of his ass, and is not narrating for you, and that he doesn't read the reviews, and all that bullshit. so fuck off. stop reading. that's right, you're still here. you need me. LISTEN TO ME AND MY SPECULATIONS THAT COME OUT OF MY ASS.)... anyways. Usually what happens when someone reads a book such as that is that they feel the passion and energy in the safest ways so that they never have to leave their bubble. Sex, drugs and rock and roll, which is kind of a shame because they should really listen to some of the jazz greats and have lots of sex with boys and girls. Captain5 didn't have this normal reaction of playing it safe and drinking straight hard liquor while passing out on the road near the government buildings. He liked the part in the book where Jack (or whatever his fucking name was in that book) didn't eat for 3 days and walked along the train tracks. For some reason that's what sparked the intensity in who would became Captain 5.
There wasn't many trains near his house, so he had to find a bus first (if there was bus tracks, he would've followed those, but the buses go on the roads these days).
Eventually he ended up in the fabled land of Tortugal, where he heard they had trains. He was a different man at this point. For the sake of enjoyment, I'll post a few of the conversations he had throughout his journeys on getting to Tortugal. (Fuck if I'm going to actually write a fucking novel about it. As if love, betrayal and kinky sex make a good story.)
On the boat to Peru.
"Is there trains in Peru?"
"Fuck if I know."
"Damn, I really want to find some trains."
"Really? Me too! I want to walk on train tracks hungry."
In the streets of Madrid
"Donde puedo encontrar las vias de tren, quiero caminar sobre ellas y tener hambre?"
"You're a fucker loser!"
On the bullet train
"soo-.. soo-.. soomeemason?"
"ee?"
"soomeemason!"
"I can speak english, what do you want?"
"oh.. uhh.. I want to walk on train tracks."
"You're on a train right now. There's tracks below us."
In a bar in Tunisia.
"I wanna walk on train tracks. Where are they?"
"I got some back in my room which we can walk on together, if you know what I mean."
"Can we get hungry too?"
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah. Come with me."
"Great!"
But anyways, he found himself in Tortugal. He was on the streets. He was young. He had found train tracks. He was walking on them. It had been 2 days. He had to do it for one more day to fulfill his spontanious dream.
But then, he saw a man out of the corner of his eye fighting a fucking huge behemoth. It was horrible. All the man was saying was,
"I'm Captain 4 motherfucker! Captain 4's gonna fuck you up!"
It was such vulgarity. It was horrible! The boy that would soon be a man named Captain 5 didn't know what to think. But he was amazed.
Captain 4 saw him. He said, "you there! Liberal arts middle class guilt ridden hungry delusional Kerouac liking mother fucker! Drink the rum! It'll fix your brains up! Drink the rum! The rum is magical! The rum is amazing! The rum! THE RUM!"
The boy was confused. Rum? He's had rum before. He went to pirate parties and jumped in the pool with his clothes in many times. It was always a good laugh. That was Captain Morgans. It was funny because it was a pirate on the bottle. "You and the Captain make it happen!" They were so funny back then. Anyways, this was different. This rum didn't have a label on it, and was in a green bottle with three X's etched into it. The boy knew that if he didn't drink the green bottle, Captain 4 would die from the behemoth. So he cluthced the bottle, and drank hearty swigs of grandeur.
As he drank the rum, he couldn't stop, and he knew as he drank the rum, he would take too long to finish it all and that Captain 4 would die. He couldn't look away from Captain 4. It was horrible. The things the behemoth were doing to Captain 4 were dispicable. The boy didn't have time to think. He couldn't think about why was he called Captain 4, or anything like that. He just knew that that was fucking great rum, and being a fucking Kerouac poser was fucking stupid, and it was time to really feel passion and intensity.
Captain 5 danced in the face of death.
When the trance ended, he looked in horror. He said:
"Captain 4! Noooo! Don't! Please! Noooooo! Murderer! Rapist! Vile sick human being! Heathen! Savage! ..."
Captain 4 and the very soon to be Captain 5 locked glances. They gazed deep into eachother's eyes, and it all made sense. They didn't need words. They didn't need love. They didn't need anything. They were super rad.
He knew he would have to become Captain 5. He knew what it meant. Not through words or through logic, but through passion. It didn't matter what the number meant, or what any of it meant. It was time to shed his former skin, which he emerged from so wide eyed, and for his goo of personality to fit into the new mold of the new person. The new raddest motherfucker you ever met: Captain5.
Captain 4 (God rest his soul) had died, and the behemoth was still there. Captain 5 knew in his heart what he had to do. He ran like a motherfucker. He ran fast and hard. He ran tall and wide. He ran and he ran until he reached a villiage, where he informed the authorities that a behemoth was on the go. Animal control was called, and the behemoth was put to sleep.
Captain 5 didn't know what to do. But his heart felt full. He felt rad. He was a new man, and he was kicking it around the ports in Tortugal. He had no idea what adventures lay ahead of them, but he knew they'd be fucking rad, because if a person is fucking rad, then radness follows them, and if the person thinks they are fucking rad, but really are fucking lame and annoying, then the radness will never follow.
Captain 5. May you live.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Captain 5 ponders life
Captain. Captain 5. I'm Captain 5. My life. I have a life. It's a little intense. What do I do? I rock out? Yes. I get drunk? Yes. I do captain things? Yes. Do I find love? Well, I have, but now.... oh it's a lonely sea tonight.
Captain 5 was alone in his vessel. The wind was down and he was in the middle of the fabled seas of the south-east. He had time. He decided that for this journey he didn't need a crew, so he happened to be all alone. He didn't bring any alcohol this time because his mom said he had a drinking problem, and while he definitely did not, he promised his mom to not bring any alcohol on this journey, and he wasn't the kind of Captain to lie to his mother. He was far above that.
It was the same ship he had used for many years. It's name was the Flea, named after his favourite poem. Many men and women laughed at him for the name, but he loved it, and cherished it, and got really wasted on it. Ladies would come aboard sometimes, and other times men would come aboard. No one knew what they did, but the Captain did keep quite a few board games hidden away, it was well known.
The Captain was pondering some of his adventures. He remembered them as if they were in the distant past. There was the time where he met the man that was horribly ugly in almost every way there is to be ugly, but manly because he had one beard. The Captain, he hadn't cared though. He knows what it's like to be ugly as all fucking hell, and he treated him like a true matey and said true matey things like:
"AHOY THERE!"
and
"WUDDAYA SAY WE GET FUCKING WASTED!"
The man with one beard just got all angry though. The Captain didn't know why. He assumed he was a loser who had lost his PSone memory card so he couldn't play FF7 and think of new and interesting ways to raise Aeris (which RAISE is an anagram of) back from the dead. He knew the man with one beard cried when she died. He knew it so hard.
It was a good fight they had. The Captain hadn't fought like that since the time he got his ass kicked in Canada. That kid was a strong, mean fucker. The Captain won't forget him. Neither will the Captain's left nut, wherever it may be.
I got really drunk. That was always good times. Yeah. I remember when I fought that guy. And I told that girl I loved her. Did I love her? Hmmm... What is love? Can a Captain really love? Can a Captain drink? Yes. How about sail the seas in style? Ofcourse! Maybe I should stick to the easy questions. All this love mumbo jumbo seems to be a little difficult. Like that time in the Amazonia region of death! That was amazing! That woman.... she was so beautiful. So refined. Her voice has left an imprint onto my heart. Those soft soothing words of vulnerability and trust:
"I WILL CUT YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"
"I EAT PIECES OF SHIT LIKE YOU FOR BRUNCH!"
I ever read her my favourite poem. I asked her to show me the ways to life. She must've known though. She must've known that we just wouldn't be right for each other. What would her parents say? Marrying a Captain and all. Where would we settle down? In the region of death? I wouldn't want to live there! It's no place to raise a child. We'd have to settle down on the seas where a man is a captain, and a woman is rad, and a son is the first mate, and the daughter... well... she could also be the first mate. Maybe we could each have our own ship and sail away into the sunset. Or maybe...
The Captain was getting lost in happy happy thoughts of simpler times. Time when we wasn't marooned at sea because of a lack of wind. Times when he wasn't really old and tired and wet (oh right, it had been raining too... lots of rain.) Hopefully the wind will pick up soon, is what the Captain should be thinking, but who knows what the Captain ever really is thinking? Not even God from heaven above...
I really wish the wind would pick up soon. I really want to complete my mission. I've been in the South-East sea for too long. I really need to get to the South sea. I wish I could get fucking drunk. That always helps with my ganmen. I could really use some now. I'm all jittery. There isn't even anyone to play board games with! I had just bought the German version of Ticket to Ride aswell! Imagine making a train from Berlin to Stuttgart! Or from Denmark to Austria, going all the way through Germany! Now that'd be fun.
I remember one of the other times I needed ganmen. But oh fuckity fuck did I have it. There was lots of whiskey in that whole. Why was I put in that jail cell again? Fuck if I remember. Something about that revolution for freedom, liberty and reduced tuition fees. It didn't matter when I was in there though. That was a fucking party. I was singing fucking rad Pavement songs and dancing a bit and just really fucking rocking out to the max. That was awesome!
"BAM!"
"BAM! BAM! BAM!"
The Captain has felt too much passion, and now is making the sound "BAM!" to let it all out. It's not something the Captain does very often, but when the passion really comes over him there's no stopping him. He has to feel the energy and feel the flow of the motherfucking passion: Captain 5 style.
"BAM!"
"BAM!"
"BLOODFIST!"
Captain 5 was getting drunk off memories of good times and the passion. He didn't need alcohol today. He was Captain 5. The dancing has started now. He was doing what was called the "Whalley shuffle", a dance that never caught on, but the Captain still kept the dance alive. The dance was more of a challenge than a dance. It was a "hey, you there! can you dance? I mean can you fucking dance? so what? Can you do the Whalley shuffle? Let's shuffle!" There were no dance steps to the Whalley shuffle. The dance was to move every limb of your body at the same time and attempt to not fall over. Captain 5 had been doing it for years, and was pretty good at it. He was yelling "BAM!" and dancing the Whalley shuffle; everything was getting knocked over in his intense fit of passion. Eventually, he got tired.
Fuck, I'm tired! That was good times though. I really felt the intensity. Fuck, I should sleep now.
Captain 5 was alone in his vessel. The wind was down and he was in the middle of the fabled seas of the south-east. He had time. He decided that for this journey he didn't need a crew, so he happened to be all alone. He didn't bring any alcohol this time because his mom said he had a drinking problem, and while he definitely did not, he promised his mom to not bring any alcohol on this journey, and he wasn't the kind of Captain to lie to his mother. He was far above that.
It was the same ship he had used for many years. It's name was the Flea, named after his favourite poem. Many men and women laughed at him for the name, but he loved it, and cherished it, and got really wasted on it. Ladies would come aboard sometimes, and other times men would come aboard. No one knew what they did, but the Captain did keep quite a few board games hidden away, it was well known.
The Captain was pondering some of his adventures. He remembered them as if they were in the distant past. There was the time where he met the man that was horribly ugly in almost every way there is to be ugly, but manly because he had one beard. The Captain, he hadn't cared though. He knows what it's like to be ugly as all fucking hell, and he treated him like a true matey and said true matey things like:
"AHOY THERE!"
and
"WUDDAYA SAY WE GET FUCKING WASTED!"
The man with one beard just got all angry though. The Captain didn't know why. He assumed he was a loser who had lost his PSone memory card so he couldn't play FF7 and think of new and interesting ways to raise Aeris (which RAISE is an anagram of) back from the dead. He knew the man with one beard cried when she died. He knew it so hard.
It was a good fight they had. The Captain hadn't fought like that since the time he got his ass kicked in Canada. That kid was a strong, mean fucker. The Captain won't forget him. Neither will the Captain's left nut, wherever it may be.
I got really drunk. That was always good times. Yeah. I remember when I fought that guy. And I told that girl I loved her. Did I love her? Hmmm... What is love? Can a Captain really love? Can a Captain drink? Yes. How about sail the seas in style? Ofcourse! Maybe I should stick to the easy questions. All this love mumbo jumbo seems to be a little difficult. Like that time in the Amazonia region of death! That was amazing! That woman.... she was so beautiful. So refined. Her voice has left an imprint onto my heart. Those soft soothing words of vulnerability and trust:
"I WILL CUT YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"
"I EAT PIECES OF SHIT LIKE YOU FOR BRUNCH!"
I ever read her my favourite poem. I asked her to show me the ways to life. She must've known though. She must've known that we just wouldn't be right for each other. What would her parents say? Marrying a Captain and all. Where would we settle down? In the region of death? I wouldn't want to live there! It's no place to raise a child. We'd have to settle down on the seas where a man is a captain, and a woman is rad, and a son is the first mate, and the daughter... well... she could also be the first mate. Maybe we could each have our own ship and sail away into the sunset. Or maybe...
The Captain was getting lost in happy happy thoughts of simpler times. Time when we wasn't marooned at sea because of a lack of wind. Times when he wasn't really old and tired and wet (oh right, it had been raining too... lots of rain.) Hopefully the wind will pick up soon, is what the Captain should be thinking, but who knows what the Captain ever really is thinking? Not even God from heaven above...
I really wish the wind would pick up soon. I really want to complete my mission. I've been in the South-East sea for too long. I really need to get to the South sea. I wish I could get fucking drunk. That always helps with my ganmen. I could really use some now. I'm all jittery. There isn't even anyone to play board games with! I had just bought the German version of Ticket to Ride aswell! Imagine making a train from Berlin to Stuttgart! Or from Denmark to Austria, going all the way through Germany! Now that'd be fun.
I remember one of the other times I needed ganmen. But oh fuckity fuck did I have it. There was lots of whiskey in that whole. Why was I put in that jail cell again? Fuck if I remember. Something about that revolution for freedom, liberty and reduced tuition fees. It didn't matter when I was in there though. That was a fucking party. I was singing fucking rad Pavement songs and dancing a bit and just really fucking rocking out to the max. That was awesome!
"BAM!"
"BAM! BAM! BAM!"
The Captain has felt too much passion, and now is making the sound "BAM!" to let it all out. It's not something the Captain does very often, but when the passion really comes over him there's no stopping him. He has to feel the energy and feel the flow of the motherfucking passion: Captain 5 style.
"BAM!"
"BAM!"
"BLOODFIST!"
Captain 5 was getting drunk off memories of good times and the passion. He didn't need alcohol today. He was Captain 5. The dancing has started now. He was doing what was called the "Whalley shuffle", a dance that never caught on, but the Captain still kept the dance alive. The dance was more of a challenge than a dance. It was a "hey, you there! can you dance? I mean can you fucking dance? so what? Can you do the Whalley shuffle? Let's shuffle!" There were no dance steps to the Whalley shuffle. The dance was to move every limb of your body at the same time and attempt to not fall over. Captain 5 had been doing it for years, and was pretty good at it. He was yelling "BAM!" and dancing the Whalley shuffle; everything was getting knocked over in his intense fit of passion. Eventually, he got tired.
Fuck, I'm tired! That was good times though. I really felt the intensity. Fuck, I should sleep now.
Captain 5 meet the legendary hero
Rolandia was his hometown. Not the the Rolandia washed away by months of non-stop rain, but the town that used to be the capital of an ancient empire. An empire that the world today forgets, or had never known about, thus making forgetting impossible, or mu if you will.
Rolandia is fairly unknown to the world outside its walls, but its very well known inside its walls. It lies deep within the Ural mountains, in a territory that didn't even know Russia came to town, let alone the scores of asshole Tsars and dickhead commisars (a communist would hate the idea of capitalisation, and lets be respectful). It lies in the valleys, surrounded by forrests. How it could've been the capital of an ancient empire is anyone's guess, but those inside the walls knew its proud history.
In this village, in a year not so long ago (ok, we'll cut the bullshit, it was 17 years ago), a young woman appeared at the gates of the village out of a menacing snowstorm. In her arms was a bunch of sheets that were quite dirty and smelly, and inside those sheets was a dirty and smelly baby. The sentrymen saw her coming from a distance and called the village elder (the descendent of the man to stabbed the last emperor in the back). As he was away calling the elder, the woman died, but when they came back, they found the baby still alive. After many hours of rigourous debate, they decided to keep the baby (the winning argument was from a little girl not much cuter than you are, she said that she can't wait to get older and disregard human life, and that was a kick in the pants to the elder.)
A man by the name of Zynxion took him in, and raised him as if he was his own. Zynxion had no wife, and it was assumed to be because of his lame name change he did on his 25th birthday. Zynxion was a virgin, pure like the snow, and dumb like the trees. He decided to name the child Pynxion, but the village elder called him a fucking moron, and decreed that his name would be from the ancient texts of their people from times even before the empire when they lived in a far off land, and heard of the prophecies and legacies of one man coming to light out of the dark (one woman mentioned how snow wasn't exactly the darkest thing in the world, and really creates a cuddly white atmosphere, especially when you're all wrapped up in bed and have smoked a few bowls, but this didn't go with the ancient prophecy the elder was babbling on about. Honestly, no one believed him.) into the village of hopes and dreams. His name would be Mithras, and Zynxion would raise him to be the legendary hero to save the world.
Now, yes, this was a bit overambitious, considering the mighty Rolandians in their small town of Rolandia in the deepest darkest anal regions of the Ural mountains have been quite the isolationists; however, this was supposed to change with Mithras. Before his duty as the legendary hero, he would be the legendary scout, and see what the world had around him.
On Mithras's 15th birthday, he was given some gold pieces, a shield made out of scales and a pen and paper, he was told to see the world and write what he saw. His journey in the mountains was perilous, and led him to many far away countries. He went to the fabled southlands in the Crimean wasteland, and the even further southlands of the Iraqi deserts, and the northlands of the Swedish rivers, and the eastlands of the Jewish states. He went everywhere, and wrote what he saw. He learned languages that I don't even know exist, and he innocently flirted with women, not knowing that they really wanted to sleep with him really fucking badly.
When he came back, he gave a speech to his fellow Rolandians. It was glorious. Really fucking glorious. It was the kind of speech you wish someone wrote down so that it could inspire generations to come. At the end of the speech, all the Rolandians were yelling "MITHRAS! MITHRAS!" in a cheer for the legendary scout, and soon to be legendary hero. The men were jealous of his adventurous spirit, and the women were jealous of his adventurous spirit. Some wanted to be him, others wanted to fuck him, and others wanted to make sweet passionate love to him, and then cuddle afterwards.
It was time for Mithras's second journey though; it was time for his journey as the Legendary Hero out to save the world from the evils that it had. He would start in the fabled land of Tortugal. It was a land of wenches and pirates and ninjas and kittens. He heard on his journey as the Legendary scout that it would be a good place to start being a legendary hero, and so that is where he started.
As he was walking with his scale shield, and newly bought copper sword, he tripped over what appeared to be a log on the road.
"OUCH!" he said. Loudly, and legendary-ily. His voice had the innocence of a virgin (as he honestly was a bit dense and didn't realize the not-so-subtle hints concerning his chances to explore a whole new sexual world), and the strength of a legendary hero (as he was a legendary hero.)
Suddenly, the log moved. Mithras jumped back and said "WOAH THERE!"
He knew not to draw his sword. He was smarter than that. He had only bought it to impress the ladies. He was getting very horny and really wanted to impress girls somehow. He really lacked self-confidence with them.
The log turned out to not be a log at all. It was something much more handsome. Beside it was the remains of a fire pit, and the plastic wrappings of Yves spicy veggie dogs. There were no hot dog bun bags in sight. The figure was mad. The figure had a very strange shirt on under his overcoat, and it had the number 5 on it. Suddenly, after much swinging and swaying, the figure spoke:
"Do you like dancing?"
The legendary hero did like dancing. "Yes! I do! Can you fox-trot?"
"Can I ever! You wanna do a little foxtrotting?"
The legendary hero thought long and hard. He was really in a hurry. The elder had said he must go start his journey to save the world, and if this hidious looking creature was any example of the world, the world really needed saving. However, he didn't get to practice his fox-trot very often, and if he practiced it with a boy he wouldn't get all nervous. And so, he fox-trotted for a few hours on the road to Tintagal (or wherever the fuck he was going. I don't really care to be honest, fuck him. He's not Captain 5.)
After they finished, they figure spoke:
"Hey kid, what's your name?"
"Mithras! I am the legendary hero!"
"Yeah, and I'm the fucking Prince of Padinton Bear! I love make believe!"
Mithras was confused, but thought he should repeat what he said again, but in different words.
"I am, the one who is supposed to save the world."
"Ha! And I'm the one who's supposed to save the Prince of Padinton Bear! Listen kid. I understand all this bullshit of your generation. You play all your stupid fucked up video games, and think that you'll save the world by yourself in some stupid ultra-alienated individual bullshit solo adventure. The people who really save the world are the ones that let go of their ego and join the human race as a community to work as a team to do what society and morality would dictate while playing an active role in shaping society and morality). If you want to save the world, you could do something like that."
The person the Legendary Hero was talking to obvious was drunk as fuck. He was making no sense whatsoever, and probably had no idea what Legendary heros were all about. The Legendary Hero stood there in silence thinking about how Captain 5 just didn't get it for quite a while, and Captain 5 was getting bored.
"Alright, fuck this, I tried to help and now you're getting all fucking spacy on me. I bet you're fucking stoned, aren't you? And you didn't even offer to have a session with me. Alright, fuck this. I'm out."
As Captain 5 walked away, he was mumbling to himself.
"fucking kids and their fucking bullshit and their fucking not smoking weed with me and their fucking "ohhh.. I can do it alllll.. I'm super fucking rad!.. fucking little more shit for brains shithead who fucking...."
and so on and so forth.
The Legendary Hero continued on with his legendary journey. He would get stabbed in New York City ten years in the future, and no one in the ancient village of Rolandia would never ever know....
...
"fucker could fox-trot like nothing-fucking else though..."
Rolandia is fairly unknown to the world outside its walls, but its very well known inside its walls. It lies deep within the Ural mountains, in a territory that didn't even know Russia came to town, let alone the scores of asshole Tsars and dickhead commisars (a communist would hate the idea of capitalisation, and lets be respectful). It lies in the valleys, surrounded by forrests. How it could've been the capital of an ancient empire is anyone's guess, but those inside the walls knew its proud history.
In this village, in a year not so long ago (ok, we'll cut the bullshit, it was 17 years ago), a young woman appeared at the gates of the village out of a menacing snowstorm. In her arms was a bunch of sheets that were quite dirty and smelly, and inside those sheets was a dirty and smelly baby. The sentrymen saw her coming from a distance and called the village elder (the descendent of the man to stabbed the last emperor in the back). As he was away calling the elder, the woman died, but when they came back, they found the baby still alive. After many hours of rigourous debate, they decided to keep the baby (the winning argument was from a little girl not much cuter than you are, she said that she can't wait to get older and disregard human life, and that was a kick in the pants to the elder.)
A man by the name of Zynxion took him in, and raised him as if he was his own. Zynxion had no wife, and it was assumed to be because of his lame name change he did on his 25th birthday. Zynxion was a virgin, pure like the snow, and dumb like the trees. He decided to name the child Pynxion, but the village elder called him a fucking moron, and decreed that his name would be from the ancient texts of their people from times even before the empire when they lived in a far off land, and heard of the prophecies and legacies of one man coming to light out of the dark (one woman mentioned how snow wasn't exactly the darkest thing in the world, and really creates a cuddly white atmosphere, especially when you're all wrapped up in bed and have smoked a few bowls, but this didn't go with the ancient prophecy the elder was babbling on about. Honestly, no one believed him.) into the village of hopes and dreams. His name would be Mithras, and Zynxion would raise him to be the legendary hero to save the world.
Now, yes, this was a bit overambitious, considering the mighty Rolandians in their small town of Rolandia in the deepest darkest anal regions of the Ural mountains have been quite the isolationists; however, this was supposed to change with Mithras. Before his duty as the legendary hero, he would be the legendary scout, and see what the world had around him.
On Mithras's 15th birthday, he was given some gold pieces, a shield made out of scales and a pen and paper, he was told to see the world and write what he saw. His journey in the mountains was perilous, and led him to many far away countries. He went to the fabled southlands in the Crimean wasteland, and the even further southlands of the Iraqi deserts, and the northlands of the Swedish rivers, and the eastlands of the Jewish states. He went everywhere, and wrote what he saw. He learned languages that I don't even know exist, and he innocently flirted with women, not knowing that they really wanted to sleep with him really fucking badly.
When he came back, he gave a speech to his fellow Rolandians. It was glorious. Really fucking glorious. It was the kind of speech you wish someone wrote down so that it could inspire generations to come. At the end of the speech, all the Rolandians were yelling "MITHRAS! MITHRAS!" in a cheer for the legendary scout, and soon to be legendary hero. The men were jealous of his adventurous spirit, and the women were jealous of his adventurous spirit. Some wanted to be him, others wanted to fuck him, and others wanted to make sweet passionate love to him, and then cuddle afterwards.
It was time for Mithras's second journey though; it was time for his journey as the Legendary Hero out to save the world from the evils that it had. He would start in the fabled land of Tortugal. It was a land of wenches and pirates and ninjas and kittens. He heard on his journey as the Legendary scout that it would be a good place to start being a legendary hero, and so that is where he started.
As he was walking with his scale shield, and newly bought copper sword, he tripped over what appeared to be a log on the road.
"OUCH!" he said. Loudly, and legendary-ily. His voice had the innocence of a virgin (as he honestly was a bit dense and didn't realize the not-so-subtle hints concerning his chances to explore a whole new sexual world), and the strength of a legendary hero (as he was a legendary hero.)
Suddenly, the log moved. Mithras jumped back and said "WOAH THERE!"
He knew not to draw his sword. He was smarter than that. He had only bought it to impress the ladies. He was getting very horny and really wanted to impress girls somehow. He really lacked self-confidence with them.
The log turned out to not be a log at all. It was something much more handsome. Beside it was the remains of a fire pit, and the plastic wrappings of Yves spicy veggie dogs. There were no hot dog bun bags in sight. The figure was mad. The figure had a very strange shirt on under his overcoat, and it had the number 5 on it. Suddenly, after much swinging and swaying, the figure spoke:
"Do you like dancing?"
The legendary hero did like dancing. "Yes! I do! Can you fox-trot?"
"Can I ever! You wanna do a little foxtrotting?"
The legendary hero thought long and hard. He was really in a hurry. The elder had said he must go start his journey to save the world, and if this hidious looking creature was any example of the world, the world really needed saving. However, he didn't get to practice his fox-trot very often, and if he practiced it with a boy he wouldn't get all nervous. And so, he fox-trotted for a few hours on the road to Tintagal (or wherever the fuck he was going. I don't really care to be honest, fuck him. He's not Captain 5.)
After they finished, they figure spoke:
"Hey kid, what's your name?"
"Mithras! I am the legendary hero!"
"Yeah, and I'm the fucking Prince of Padinton Bear! I love make believe!"
Mithras was confused, but thought he should repeat what he said again, but in different words.
"I am, the one who is supposed to save the world."
"Ha! And I'm the one who's supposed to save the Prince of Padinton Bear! Listen kid. I understand all this bullshit of your generation. You play all your stupid fucked up video games, and think that you'll save the world by yourself in some stupid ultra-alienated individual bullshit solo adventure. The people who really save the world are the ones that let go of their ego and join the human race as a community to work as a team to do what society and morality would dictate while playing an active role in shaping society and morality). If you want to save the world, you could do something like that."
The person the Legendary Hero was talking to obvious was drunk as fuck. He was making no sense whatsoever, and probably had no idea what Legendary heros were all about. The Legendary Hero stood there in silence thinking about how Captain 5 just didn't get it for quite a while, and Captain 5 was getting bored.
"Alright, fuck this, I tried to help and now you're getting all fucking spacy on me. I bet you're fucking stoned, aren't you? And you didn't even offer to have a session with me. Alright, fuck this. I'm out."
As Captain 5 walked away, he was mumbling to himself.
"fucking kids and their fucking bullshit and their fucking not smoking weed with me and their fucking "ohhh.. I can do it alllll.. I'm super fucking rad!.. fucking little more shit for brains shithead who fucking...."
and so on and so forth.
The Legendary Hero continued on with his legendary journey. He would get stabbed in New York City ten years in the future, and no one in the ancient village of Rolandia would never ever know....
...
"fucker could fox-trot like nothing-fucking else though..."
Monday, September 3, 2007
Captain 5 drinks
He's in a cave. It's dark. There is no door, but only mold-covered walls, and a damp rocky floor. The ceiling has a hole for sunlight to come in, but there are bars on it, and it's impossible to reach anyways. He hasn't had food for days. He doesn't really care though. He never liked food much anyways. There's the damp water on the ground, but he takes dumps in the corner, so it might not be so clean. There's only one thing that Captain 5 has with him, and that's the whiskey.
When they put him in here, they were just lying there. There was a whole buncha bottles lying around. They were full. It was a brand he never heard of, but he would recnognize that smell anywhere. The aroma that puts hair where hair should not be, and softens what should've been hard that night long ago. She didn't understand, but that's alright. By the smell, he thought the whiskey was distilled many moons ago. Perhaps somewhere in the southern tips of the Falkland Islands. It had that Falkland twang in it.
Captain 5 had been in his cell for a while now. He had lost track of the time, and gave up on counting the days. He got really drunk tons, and always passed out and never knew how long he was passed out for. Puking wasn't much fun. The bile never tastes nice, but that's the way it goes. He could finish off a bottle in one sitting, and a sitting usually lasted about 50 minutes. After that, he'd pass out for God knows how long, and then he'd puke up bile and have the whiskey shits. He never liked the whiskey shits, but no one does, and he knew that if his buddies could smell his poo, they'd be disgusted. He took solace in that.
Right now, he was wasted. He was singing a song. A song about simpler times. It was about whiskey and sailing, and when saying "I love you" had meaning. He was thinking of the times when it he hadn't accepted death, and he got drunk to rock out hard and sing along forever. He remembered the woman of Amazonia, and Gillian, the only girl that would let him read his favourite poetry to her all night long.
He looked like shit. Shit stains everywhere. He hadn't trimmed his beard in ages, and his captain's hat was all cuffed. They cuffed up his captain's hard. He wanted to cry and beg, but he didn't. The captain was too proud for that, he wouldn't let them see the inner child that only wanted to have a piece of candy, he gave them the captain's stare, and told them to fuck off and eat shit (and all that).
His smell was also disgusting.
The captain wondered where he was, and why he was in a hole. If he wasn't drunk as fuck, he would remember, but he was drunk as fuck, so he couldn't. He couldn't even remember his own number. He could remember that he liked whiskey, and that while whiskey usually liked him, it wasn't being very nice these days. What with all the excrement and the smell and all that.
Suddenly, as he was singing loud, the old song of the seas:
I was dressed for success
but success it never came
and I'm the only one who laughs
at your jokes when they are so bad
and your jo-
When a figure came over the hole above him.
"Captain 5!"
"What! Fuck off, I'm busy in here! Can't you hear me singing!"
"I'm here to free you!"
"Free yourself asshole! I'm busy!"
"Captain! The revolution occured. We did it! We stormed the goverment buildings. Took back what was rightfully ours!"
"Well I'm not rightfully yours, so go fuck yourself!"
"Captain! You've drank too much! Don't you know what you're drinking? That's no ordinary whiskey, that shit fucks your brains right up!"
"That's ordinary whiskey you fucker! It's top notch!"
"Captain! We have to hurry! The king's forces have lost control of the government, but they still roam these areas! They could be here any second! I'm risking my life for you Captain!"
Now normally the Captain would respect this, and would understand. Honestly, he would. The Captain was a good man. But he was really fuckign drunk, and let's be honest with ourselves, when we're sauced, we're not that rad. Yeah, we're dancing and singing song and feeling like we're feeling the fucking intensity, but the girl beside you... she's not beside you anymore, is she. She's at the other end of the room, and she's not taking pictures because you're hot, it's because you're being an idiot and she wants to show her friends how much of a tool you are. The Captain was in no condition to be Admiral Reasonable.
"Fuck off!"
So the man left, and the Captain passed out. As the Captain was lying in his own dirtiness, the man came back, and with the revolutionary forces, got the Captain out of his cell, and put him in the nearest inn, where he would be safe.
Captain 5 needed to rest.
When they put him in here, they were just lying there. There was a whole buncha bottles lying around. They were full. It was a brand he never heard of, but he would recnognize that smell anywhere. The aroma that puts hair where hair should not be, and softens what should've been hard that night long ago. She didn't understand, but that's alright. By the smell, he thought the whiskey was distilled many moons ago. Perhaps somewhere in the southern tips of the Falkland Islands. It had that Falkland twang in it.
Captain 5 had been in his cell for a while now. He had lost track of the time, and gave up on counting the days. He got really drunk tons, and always passed out and never knew how long he was passed out for. Puking wasn't much fun. The bile never tastes nice, but that's the way it goes. He could finish off a bottle in one sitting, and a sitting usually lasted about 50 minutes. After that, he'd pass out for God knows how long, and then he'd puke up bile and have the whiskey shits. He never liked the whiskey shits, but no one does, and he knew that if his buddies could smell his poo, they'd be disgusted. He took solace in that.
Right now, he was wasted. He was singing a song. A song about simpler times. It was about whiskey and sailing, and when saying "I love you" had meaning. He was thinking of the times when it he hadn't accepted death, and he got drunk to rock out hard and sing along forever. He remembered the woman of Amazonia, and Gillian, the only girl that would let him read his favourite poetry to her all night long.
He looked like shit. Shit stains everywhere. He hadn't trimmed his beard in ages, and his captain's hat was all cuffed. They cuffed up his captain's hard. He wanted to cry and beg, but he didn't. The captain was too proud for that, he wouldn't let them see the inner child that only wanted to have a piece of candy, he gave them the captain's stare, and told them to fuck off and eat shit (and all that).
His smell was also disgusting.
The captain wondered where he was, and why he was in a hole. If he wasn't drunk as fuck, he would remember, but he was drunk as fuck, so he couldn't. He couldn't even remember his own number. He could remember that he liked whiskey, and that while whiskey usually liked him, it wasn't being very nice these days. What with all the excrement and the smell and all that.
Suddenly, as he was singing loud, the old song of the seas:
I was dressed for success
but success it never came
and I'm the only one who laughs
at your jokes when they are so bad
and your jo-
When a figure came over the hole above him.
"Captain 5!"
"What! Fuck off, I'm busy in here! Can't you hear me singing!"
"I'm here to free you!"
"Free yourself asshole! I'm busy!"
"Captain! The revolution occured. We did it! We stormed the goverment buildings. Took back what was rightfully ours!"
"Well I'm not rightfully yours, so go fuck yourself!"
"Captain! You've drank too much! Don't you know what you're drinking? That's no ordinary whiskey, that shit fucks your brains right up!"
"That's ordinary whiskey you fucker! It's top notch!"
"Captain! We have to hurry! The king's forces have lost control of the government, but they still roam these areas! They could be here any second! I'm risking my life for you Captain!"
Now normally the Captain would respect this, and would understand. Honestly, he would. The Captain was a good man. But he was really fuckign drunk, and let's be honest with ourselves, when we're sauced, we're not that rad. Yeah, we're dancing and singing song and feeling like we're feeling the fucking intensity, but the girl beside you... she's not beside you anymore, is she. She's at the other end of the room, and she's not taking pictures because you're hot, it's because you're being an idiot and she wants to show her friends how much of a tool you are. The Captain was in no condition to be Admiral Reasonable.
"Fuck off!"
So the man left, and the Captain passed out. As the Captain was lying in his own dirtiness, the man came back, and with the revolutionary forces, got the Captain out of his cell, and put him in the nearest inn, where he would be safe.
Captain 5 needed to rest.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Captain 5 in the Amazon
It was green out. Very green. The trees were green. The grass was green. The river, the river was blue. But blue and green can be quite similar as all green is is blue with a dash of yellow, and with the massive amounts of green, the blue really complemented it, and made it a factual statement that it was very green out.
Captain 5 had done something that no captain would ever admit. He couldn't believe it, and actually, he didn't even admit it to himself, or to his crew. However, I will let the secret go, if you promise to not tell the captain...
The Captain was lost.
He was supposed to be going to the underwater Castle of Spaintugal, but something really got fucked somewhere. He was on a giant river. He assumed it was the mouth of heaven, and he had always heard Spaintugal was a very nice place, so perhaps it would be close to heaven? It was a good try, and Captain 5 would do it all over again in a second. He was that kind of captain.
It was a scary river though. The fish looked as if they wanted to eat the captain, and the captain looked as if he wanted to eat the fish. The jungles had mysterious topless women in them looking like they wanted to kill the captain, but the captain didn't want to kill them. You see, the captain is a little old fashioned (his father was quite chivalrous), and he only liked reading poetry to women, and if in 6 months time they became quite close, the holding of hands would be ok.
But the captain wasn't thinking about this! He was thinking about how fucked he was, and how the king of Spaintugal would want his head. He had to do something. He had to think of a good bullshit excuse for what was going on.
But before he could, a woman flew through the sky (presumably from a tree, but it looked like it was from the sky) and onto the boat and said
"VAJWAH! I will fucking cut you!"
but the Captain was not scared. Nor were his crew. The Captain had never fought a woman before, but he thought he knew how to do it:
"Marke but this flea, and marke in this,
How little that which thou deny'st me is;
Me it suck'd first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled bee;
Confesse it, this cannot be said..."
But before he could finish reciting his favourite poem, the strong (yet feminine, cute and powerful aren't mutually exclusive you know) woman powered up her attack and charged at him!
The Captain didn't know what to do! He panicked! He screamed! But then, within him he felt the power of divinity and the power to defend himself and the power to attack the wicked Amazonian who was trying to cut him like a madwoman.
He drew his sword! He said
"stand back! fair woman! none of this today!"
But the woman had said something again,
"Do you know where you are? This isn't the land of fake pleasantries! You're in Amazonia motherfucker! We eat people like you for brunch!"
The Captain was aghast. No fake pleasentries? Did they not read poetry for courting? What did they do? He knew no one was looking. He forgot to feed his crew, and they had probably died (plus he never cleaned the tank), so he did what was in his heart:
"Oh princess of the Amazon. Keyholder of my heart. Please. Teach me your ways. You are strong, yet cute. Kind, but bloodlusting. Will you show me the way to true happiness?"
The words were surprising the Captain himself. He was amazed. He was one sly motherfucker. But he didn't care about that. He wanted to learn the ways of this unknown woman who just wanted to cut him.
"Listen Captain 5! Yes, we know your name. We've heard your poetry! Get out of our river! Get out of our jungle! Leave your ship. It is ours now! I won't teach you a thing! You suck! If you're not out of here in 2 hours, I will call my strong (but gentle) friends, and we will eat you alive!"
The Captain was now scared and confused, but mostly in love. However, he was lucky that his head was currently stronger than his heart (and dinky), so he jumped off his ship that he had had for so many months. He got to the riverbed of the river. And he ran. He ran. Fuck he ran fast.
He kept on going. Never once looking back. He ran to a day non-stop. He ran until he came to a village at the boarder of the frontier and Spaintugal. He must've looked silly. He was a Captain without a ship. A man without a heart. His love ached terribly for the woman he barely knew, and he'll always remember her sweet tender words...
"I'll cut you...."
"I'll cut you...."
Captain 5 had done something that no captain would ever admit. He couldn't believe it, and actually, he didn't even admit it to himself, or to his crew. However, I will let the secret go, if you promise to not tell the captain...
The Captain was lost.
He was supposed to be going to the underwater Castle of Spaintugal, but something really got fucked somewhere. He was on a giant river. He assumed it was the mouth of heaven, and he had always heard Spaintugal was a very nice place, so perhaps it would be close to heaven? It was a good try, and Captain 5 would do it all over again in a second. He was that kind of captain.
It was a scary river though. The fish looked as if they wanted to eat the captain, and the captain looked as if he wanted to eat the fish. The jungles had mysterious topless women in them looking like they wanted to kill the captain, but the captain didn't want to kill them. You see, the captain is a little old fashioned (his father was quite chivalrous), and he only liked reading poetry to women, and if in 6 months time they became quite close, the holding of hands would be ok.
But the captain wasn't thinking about this! He was thinking about how fucked he was, and how the king of Spaintugal would want his head. He had to do something. He had to think of a good bullshit excuse for what was going on.
But before he could, a woman flew through the sky (presumably from a tree, but it looked like it was from the sky) and onto the boat and said
"VAJWAH! I will fucking cut you!"
but the Captain was not scared. Nor were his crew. The Captain had never fought a woman before, but he thought he knew how to do it:
"Marke but this flea, and marke in this,
How little that which thou deny'st me is;
Me it suck'd first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled bee;
Confesse it, this cannot be said..."
But before he could finish reciting his favourite poem, the strong (yet feminine, cute and powerful aren't mutually exclusive you know) woman powered up her attack and charged at him!
The Captain didn't know what to do! He panicked! He screamed! But then, within him he felt the power of divinity and the power to defend himself and the power to attack the wicked Amazonian who was trying to cut him like a madwoman.
He drew his sword! He said
"stand back! fair woman! none of this today!"
But the woman had said something again,
"Do you know where you are? This isn't the land of fake pleasantries! You're in Amazonia motherfucker! We eat people like you for brunch!"
The Captain was aghast. No fake pleasentries? Did they not read poetry for courting? What did they do? He knew no one was looking. He forgot to feed his crew, and they had probably died (plus he never cleaned the tank), so he did what was in his heart:
"Oh princess of the Amazon. Keyholder of my heart. Please. Teach me your ways. You are strong, yet cute. Kind, but bloodlusting. Will you show me the way to true happiness?"
The words were surprising the Captain himself. He was amazed. He was one sly motherfucker. But he didn't care about that. He wanted to learn the ways of this unknown woman who just wanted to cut him.
"Listen Captain 5! Yes, we know your name. We've heard your poetry! Get out of our river! Get out of our jungle! Leave your ship. It is ours now! I won't teach you a thing! You suck! If you're not out of here in 2 hours, I will call my strong (but gentle) friends, and we will eat you alive!"
The Captain was now scared and confused, but mostly in love. However, he was lucky that his head was currently stronger than his heart (and dinky), so he jumped off his ship that he had had for so many months. He got to the riverbed of the river. And he ran. He ran. Fuck he ran fast.
He kept on going. Never once looking back. He ran to a day non-stop. He ran until he came to a village at the boarder of the frontier and Spaintugal. He must've looked silly. He was a Captain without a ship. A man without a heart. His love ached terribly for the woman he barely knew, and he'll always remember her sweet tender words...
"I'll cut you...."
"I'll cut you...."
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Captain 5 versus the man with one beard
It was a cold night, on a small island. It was in the middle of his voyage from China to France. He was taking the secret Eastern passage through the mountains of Talleux. At first he was afraid at the port he found, for it was in a country he had never heard of. However, as soon as he came ashore he found that there was a bar, and the bar served only the finest kinds of Whiskey and Rum in all of the Eastern passage. So then, he did what any captain would do. He began to drink the drinks, and sit on the seats. He did not talk to anyone, for he was a little shy, and couldn't speak the local languages of the country that he had not heard of.
In the corner of his eye, he saw a girl in a red dress. She was fucking hot. Their eyes met, and then the girl turned away in disgust. He was not so hot. Some would say ugly, and I'm sure that the girl in the red would have been on of the said "some". For, this captain, he had a deformaty of sorts. It's something that no mother would ever wish on their son (or daughter). He was born with only one beard, and therefore wherever he went he was shunned by the ladies, and laughed at by the men. The only solace he had was drinking, and doing his job the best that he could.
His job was his life, and his job was on the Eastern passage between China and France. He was a messanger between the two countries, and they were in a bit of a tiff trading back and forth insults. China thought France was a stupid country, and France thought China wasn't the smartest knife in the drawer. It was the man with one beard's job to take letter's, and navigate through the Eastern Passage, and present them to the other country. He had been doing it for years, and it was what he was. The voyage two 3 weeks from China to France, and 5 months from France to China. The winds would never agree with any man sailing from France to China, and it was always a test of endurance, skill, and manlymanness.
So, the man, the man with one beard, he was drinking. The woman in the red dress was talking to her friends about how ugly the man with one beard was, and then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, coming from the door, a man appeared.
This was no ordinary man, for he was a captain among captains. A boy among men. A fish among plankton. He had battled in the Indian wars, and singlehandedly won the Crimean wars. He had ran away from the Brazialian wars, but only to come back while everyone was sleeping and show them who's captain.
He didn't have a name, and he wasn't ugly like the man with one beard. He had a number, and that's all he needed. He was Captain 5, and he was one fucking rad captain.
He walked in to the bar, and said:
"GIMME A DRINK!"
The bartender was shocked, for he did not know English. So he said:
"SKad;slgjla;kla;dsjg"
The Captain was used to this, so he made his drinking gesture, which involved an imaginary class, an imaginary bottle, an imaginary friend, and an imaginary fistfight. It appeared to be universal. People from all over could understand. The Captain wanted to get fucking drunk.
Captain 5 got his drink. It was grade F Grog. He would have to drink it within 10 minutes, or else it would destrot the mug that it was in. He turned around and saw that ugly motherfucker. The man with one beard. Captain 5 played with his beard, and then decided to go over, and talk to the sorry son of a bitch.
"Hey matey! Drinking's rad, wouldn't you say?"
The man with one beard didn't reply to this. The man with one beard took drinking very seriously, and thought that it shouldn't be a social thing; for that would be girlly, and the man with one beard was very insecure about his sexuality.
"I see, you're a deafman! That's ok! I understand!"
Captain 5 proceeded to take a seat at the table where the man with one beard was sitting, and the man with one beard eyed him strangley. There was another thing Captain 5 didn't know. Because the man with one beard was so fucking ugly for only having one beard, he hadn't talked in years, and it had become a bit of a mental block for him. Captain 5 didn't have mental blocks. He was a real captain.
Luckily, because Captain 5 had traversed many seas, and seen many lands, and breathed in many airs, he could use his gestures to say anything he wanted. As our narrator, I'll translate these gestures into words:
"Fuck that girl in the red dress eh? You know what I'm saying? You go over and talk to her?"
The man with one beard understood this, and was getting a little sad on the inside. He usually doesn't like to think about the fact that he's so fucking ugly for only having one beard. However, because he thought if he was sad people might think he was gay (remember, he's insecure about that sort of thing), he had to create a facade. He pretended to be angry. He began to speak:
"UGasdlfkjals;dfjkl;asdjf"
The man with one beard hadn't spoken in a long time, and his tongue was still a little fucked, but he tried again/
"Your mother's a whore!"
It came out perfectly that time, and Captain 5 was not impressed. Captain 5's mother's name was Sylvia. She was half-Bulgarian half- Chilean. She had been on tough times before the captain was born, and may've had to do a few things fucking prudes would call "whorish". Captain 5 could understand her situation, but others... others were just so mean.
Captain 5 said in his heartiest, manliest, scariest voice.
"I'll fucking cut you!"
and then, it happened. The man with one beard pranced up, and tackled Captain 5. Captain 5's fists were flowing before his feet hit the ground. The intensity and the passion of the moment took over him and the fire in his eyes was telling him what to do: destroy the fucker with one beard. The man with one beard was a strong fucker though. Because of his insecurity, he did a lot of situps and pushups while at sea to make sure he was strong and could beat up anyone that called him gay, but he lacked the passion that Captain 5 had.
Captain 5 started doing what appeared to be a jig, and then out of nowhere got a few lefts onto the man with one beard's face, but the man with one beard would have none of it. One beardo started windmilling and yelling things in a language he created on his own time because he was such a lonely fucker.
"AWE;LJA;LEFKJALFJ"
"AWERHATEGKLH"
The fight waged one. The woman with the red dress didn't watch, but left, because she had to work early the next day. The next day, she would not be wearing that red dress. Eventually, Captain 5 grabbed his grade F grog and through it in the man with one beard's face. The man with one beard screamed in agony and his beard slowly melted away. There was no scarring.
Captain 5 ran into his ship, which was at the dock a few minutes away if you ran like fucking hell. At the bar, the man who used to have one beard was screaming like this:
"aer;kjfsda
lkfjlasdjf!!!!!!"
He then looked in the reflection of the mirror on the ceiling, and was shocked with what he saw.
He became fucking handsome.
In the corner of his eye, he saw a girl in a red dress. She was fucking hot. Their eyes met, and then the girl turned away in disgust. He was not so hot. Some would say ugly, and I'm sure that the girl in the red would have been on of the said "some". For, this captain, he had a deformaty of sorts. It's something that no mother would ever wish on their son (or daughter). He was born with only one beard, and therefore wherever he went he was shunned by the ladies, and laughed at by the men. The only solace he had was drinking, and doing his job the best that he could.
His job was his life, and his job was on the Eastern passage between China and France. He was a messanger between the two countries, and they were in a bit of a tiff trading back and forth insults. China thought France was a stupid country, and France thought China wasn't the smartest knife in the drawer. It was the man with one beard's job to take letter's, and navigate through the Eastern Passage, and present them to the other country. He had been doing it for years, and it was what he was. The voyage two 3 weeks from China to France, and 5 months from France to China. The winds would never agree with any man sailing from France to China, and it was always a test of endurance, skill, and manlymanness.
So, the man, the man with one beard, he was drinking. The woman in the red dress was talking to her friends about how ugly the man with one beard was, and then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, coming from the door, a man appeared.
This was no ordinary man, for he was a captain among captains. A boy among men. A fish among plankton. He had battled in the Indian wars, and singlehandedly won the Crimean wars. He had ran away from the Brazialian wars, but only to come back while everyone was sleeping and show them who's captain.
He didn't have a name, and he wasn't ugly like the man with one beard. He had a number, and that's all he needed. He was Captain 5, and he was one fucking rad captain.
He walked in to the bar, and said:
"GIMME A DRINK!"
The bartender was shocked, for he did not know English. So he said:
"SKad;slgjla;kla;dsjg"
The Captain was used to this, so he made his drinking gesture, which involved an imaginary class, an imaginary bottle, an imaginary friend, and an imaginary fistfight. It appeared to be universal. People from all over could understand. The Captain wanted to get fucking drunk.
Captain 5 got his drink. It was grade F Grog. He would have to drink it within 10 minutes, or else it would destrot the mug that it was in. He turned around and saw that ugly motherfucker. The man with one beard. Captain 5 played with his beard, and then decided to go over, and talk to the sorry son of a bitch.
"Hey matey! Drinking's rad, wouldn't you say?"
The man with one beard didn't reply to this. The man with one beard took drinking very seriously, and thought that it shouldn't be a social thing; for that would be girlly, and the man with one beard was very insecure about his sexuality.
"I see, you're a deafman! That's ok! I understand!"
Captain 5 proceeded to take a seat at the table where the man with one beard was sitting, and the man with one beard eyed him strangley. There was another thing Captain 5 didn't know. Because the man with one beard was so fucking ugly for only having one beard, he hadn't talked in years, and it had become a bit of a mental block for him. Captain 5 didn't have mental blocks. He was a real captain.
Luckily, because Captain 5 had traversed many seas, and seen many lands, and breathed in many airs, he could use his gestures to say anything he wanted. As our narrator, I'll translate these gestures into words:
"Fuck that girl in the red dress eh? You know what I'm saying? You go over and talk to her?"
The man with one beard understood this, and was getting a little sad on the inside. He usually doesn't like to think about the fact that he's so fucking ugly for only having one beard. However, because he thought if he was sad people might think he was gay (remember, he's insecure about that sort of thing), he had to create a facade. He pretended to be angry. He began to speak:
"UGasdlfkjals;dfjkl;asdjf"
The man with one beard hadn't spoken in a long time, and his tongue was still a little fucked, but he tried again/
"Your mother's a whore!"
It came out perfectly that time, and Captain 5 was not impressed. Captain 5's mother's name was Sylvia. She was half-Bulgarian half- Chilean. She had been on tough times before the captain was born, and may've had to do a few things fucking prudes would call "whorish". Captain 5 could understand her situation, but others... others were just so mean.
Captain 5 said in his heartiest, manliest, scariest voice.
"I'll fucking cut you!"
and then, it happened. The man with one beard pranced up, and tackled Captain 5. Captain 5's fists were flowing before his feet hit the ground. The intensity and the passion of the moment took over him and the fire in his eyes was telling him what to do: destroy the fucker with one beard. The man with one beard was a strong fucker though. Because of his insecurity, he did a lot of situps and pushups while at sea to make sure he was strong and could beat up anyone that called him gay, but he lacked the passion that Captain 5 had.
Captain 5 started doing what appeared to be a jig, and then out of nowhere got a few lefts onto the man with one beard's face, but the man with one beard would have none of it. One beardo started windmilling and yelling things in a language he created on his own time because he was such a lonely fucker.
"AWE;LJA;LEFKJALFJ"
"AWERHATEGKLH"
The fight waged one. The woman with the red dress didn't watch, but left, because she had to work early the next day. The next day, she would not be wearing that red dress. Eventually, Captain 5 grabbed his grade F grog and through it in the man with one beard's face. The man with one beard screamed in agony and his beard slowly melted away. There was no scarring.
Captain 5 ran into his ship, which was at the dock a few minutes away if you ran like fucking hell. At the bar, the man who used to have one beard was screaming like this:
"aer;kjfsda
lkfjlasdjf!!!!!!"
He then looked in the reflection of the mirror on the ceiling, and was shocked with what he saw.
He became fucking handsome.
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