Pirate Aaahhhhrrrrr’s Letter to the Privateers
1 Aaahhhhrrrrr, a Pirate and Pastafarian by the will of His Noodliness the Flying Spaghetti Monster, to the buccaneers which are at sea, and to the faithful privateers in Pasta:
3 Blessed be yer booty, and may yer coffers never empty. May ye all be fruitful (so as not to contract scurvy) and multiply (so as to be good at math).
4 Yer last missive greeted me in the same post as a letter I received from me brother, who lives in the City of the Red Stick, recently inundated by refugees from the great storm of Katrina. I hope this explains me tardiness in me response.
5 Tis heart-warming to this humble man of the sea to know yer daughter is doing well in college. Has yer wife received a new peg-leg from the good Doctor Davey Jones?
6 Ye asked me whether I would again tell the story of the great Volcano of Beer. While I am loth to speak of it, even when it is so far in me past, I will tell the tale again, with hope that you will spread the message of His Noodliness and how the Pastafarian heaven kicks the booty of the heavens of the false gods, and I mean not the usual definition of “booty”, mind ye.
7 Here is the story then, as I be rememberin’ it.
1 ‘Twas a dark and stormy night, to be sure. Me ship the Trouser Snake was rockin and knockin.
2 First Mate One-Eye Johnson had taken the helm while I went back to me stateroom to ponder over a few of me treasure maps. I had me candles and lanterns lit, but most of the light was coming through me window from the storm’s lightning.
3 I was ignorant of it at the time, but I suspect the lightning was actually the many and countless noodly appendages of our Creator, may His meatballs never whither.
4 I be but a humble pirate, but truly I believe He was reaching down to me and me ship. I found out for certain when one of the blinding appendages reached straight through the hard wood of the Trouser Snake, into me stateroom, and struck me for dead.
5 I was not the first pirate to be smote before his time, and I certainly won’t be the last, but from what I be hearin, I am the only one to live to tell the tale.
1 I awoke in a green field surrounded by strippers. The story of the creation of the Stripper Factory is not mine to tell, and I will dwell on it no longer here.
2 Suffice it to say that The Trouser Snake and me First Mate One Eye Johnson seemed to stir within me. Perhaps I was not as far removed from them as it appeared.
3 But I be digressin.
4 I be a pirate, by His Grace and Sauce, and I like to be thinkin of meself as above fear. But I was certainly afeard of the strippers until one with a peg-leg approached me. She seemed familiar to me eyes, so when she beckoned to me with her hook, twas only a small effort to follow her.
5 She led me to a small Italian bistro, which looked like it had sprouted out of the very ground. There were no roads leading to it, no sidewalk, no parking lot. But there was a sunny patio with small, two-seat tables with checkered tablecloths.
6 The real kind of tablecloth, not that vinyl crap they have at Pizza Hut.
7 We sat at one of the tables, and a silent but efficient waiter brought me a plate of the finest spaghetti it has ever been my pleasure to sample.
8 Do ye know the bloated feeling ye get when ye’ve had too much spaghetti? Well I ate the whole plate of these heavenly noodles, scraped every morsel of meatball and tomato, and I was sated, but not in any physical discomfort.
9 It was the most perfect meal I have ever eaten, and it was only then that I spoke. Mind ye, not a word had been said to this point between meself and the stripper.
10 “Do ye have anything to drink that would match the perfection of what I just ate?”
11 And the stripper said, “If you are thirsty, you shall have what you desire in time. For all things come from His Noodliness, as they are ultimately returned unto Him.”
12 “I be not overly thirsty, madam. ‘Tis but a custom to have drink with meal. But first, I must ask, as ye speak of noodles: What have ye done to me Trouser Snake?”
13 And the stripper said, “The Trouser Snake holds firm. Your mainmast stands proud and erect, and the wood is as hard as ever. One-Eye Johnson stands full and tall at the helm, sad for the loss of his captain, but hard-set and ready to plunder booty.”
14 “The loss of his captain?” says I. “What has happened to me then?”
15 “You have been touched by His Noodly Appendage. Rejoice and be glad, for unto you is given a message to be proclaimed, and a task to be done.”
1 I measured not the time, for at the bistro it was always early evening.
2 It may have been days that the stripper told me of Our Noodly Master and his benevolence, wisdom, and sauciness.
3 In that time she told me all that I will someday tell you, that ye may be disciples in Pasta, that ye may spread the word, and that ye may pass the parmesan.
4 Twas the Flying Spaghetti Monster that created our short friends, the midgits.
5 Twas the Flying Spaghetti Monster that created our stony friends, the mountains.
6 Twas the Flying Spaghetti Monster that created our wooden friends, the trees.
7 But not necessarily in that order.
8 There be more to it than that, but I’ll be coverin it in a later letter, perhaps.
9 Though she told me much, and though I had not pencil nor paper with which to take notes, I remembered all that the stripper told unto me, including that she said “unto” a lot, so that I be usin it in me everyday speech to this day.
To be continued…