He hobbled loudly in to the room, crutch under one arm, a bottle of rum in the other. An eye patch covered his left eye, while his right was wide with disbelief: “WHAT?! No, boy! Not Brandy, Rum! What pirate drinks brandy, boy?! Brandy is for narcoleptic giraffes and northern sleuths! NO! Pirates drink rum, boy! Or indeed grog. Tis what keeps the gums healthy and the rickets at bay! Don’t ever let me catch you singing songs or praises of brandy, boy! No pirate’s assistant will be drinking that unpalatable hogwash!
Now, where be my one-legged pantaloons, boy? I’m sure I gave it to the fish to wash?” he shouted unabashedly, as saliva and rum sprayed from out his mouth and on to his beard. He backed out loudly to the toilet, where he flushed himself back to the seven seas. Peace and quiet returned to the room and sanity was restored, but who knew for how long…
Sven is a great lover of fans, water and bright, shiny, reflective trinkets. That’s all he does all day, lounge around absorbing light from his trinkets and occasionally dunking his head in room temperature still water. Leaf people. One day Sven had his head submerged in a seat of water when he heard a violent rapping at the door. To Sven’s confusement his old friend and former publicist, Wayne, kicked down the door.
Wayne Rankledon is a Pickle Pirate born and bred. He tried only two other career paths: A lawyer and a publicist. After that he just concentrated on being a Pickle Pirate. Wayne had the most incredible toothpick leg. He acquired it at a cocktail party at the White House in the early 80’s. Being a pirate he consumed too much grog that night and ended up stumping Richard Nixon right in the mouth while he was cleaning his teeth with a presidential toothpick – All because Nixon had his car parked over the Pickle Pirates jar of Brine.
Wayne Hobbled in radiating excitement and wielding banana skins in his hands. Wayne burst straight into his exciting story about a dust bunny King Pin and a treasure map etched into several banana skins. Sven just sat there in awe at the Pirate’s tale of dust bunnies, unimaginable shiny, reflective trinkets and how Wayne, the Pickle Pirate, had the banana skin treasure map in his possession. Needless to say Sven was well keen for this adventure. Before the two adventurers could embark on their journey, Wayne needed two things; something to quench his pirate sized thirst and water pistols filled with Window lean. Sven knew just what the pickle pirate needed. He went over to the kitchen filled the kettle with rum, turned it on and returned to Wayne with loaded water pistols and matching holsters.
Sven makes the BEST pirate tea. Pirate tea is indeed a delicacy, a sophisticated pirate drink. Its contents are a kettle of rum and a tea bag. The last time Sven made a kettle of pirate tea the majority of northern Canada blacked out. They blamed the sun and his flare.
Whilst chugging down several pints of pirate tea and cleaning his toothpick peg leg, Wayne preached to Sven a brief history of the Dust Bunny King Pin…
Please note I do not own the pictures and the pictures are in no way related to Sven.
I have noticed I have picked up a few more followers over the last few posts, more than usual, which fills my heart with jelly beans and marshmellows. I have also noticed that my little stories have gotten more likes than usual. So for my new followers, and those who have not time-traveled my blog posts, I have decided to re-post a work still in progress. It’s called “Sven”, some of you may know him, others don’t. I will release this story in parts over the next few weeks. May you enjoy this silly, tall-tale of an awesometastic being named Sven. Happy Friday!
The thing about the thing about telling tales of leaf people is that they don’t like it much. My one friend’s second cousin, Andy, he once told a story of a leaf person. THAT story was genius! But that leaf person heard about it, stole Andy’s car, pawned it in and replaced it with a big shiny bubble. Andy was outraged, as insurance companies don’t insure big shiny bubbles. So leaf people tales are delicate. You have to know how to spindle their stories. If your facts aren’t entirely correct you WILL fall victim to a leaf person’s prank. Many people are quick to dismiss leaf people stories as “Tall Tales”. Just wait till they have a leaf person tale to tell! Truth be told leaf people are very friendly and helpful, it’s just that a lot of the tales that are spun are not entirely accurate. Not this one. This tale is about a particularly awesome leaf person named Sven.
Sven is brilliant. He once taught a door stop how to walk. That door stop went on to win gold at the Sydney Olympics. Sven is a traveller, a true leaf Gypsy. He even used to dress up as a middle-aged woman, reading various animals and people their future with a crystal ball, but the animals and people were confused and many feared his androgynous psychic abilities. Anyway, Sven was an orphan you see, lost his entire family tree at a young age. He witnessed them burn, but he luckily got away. He never let it get him down. He had some GREAT friends like Hillcrest the sautéed peanut and Freckles the ginger cauliflower. He met many friends through the years from many places. Sven worked many jobs too, that’s how he met so many people. He once agreed to wrestle a zebra for a wheel of cheese just so he could chase it down a grassy hill. Sven is great, he was even asked to help free a whale caught in fishing nets off the coast of New Zealand. Sven was genius; he just rowed out to the whale, spoke to him for 20 minutes, convinced the whale he was a salamander and swam away fancy free! Ah Sven, definitely the guy you want in your posse. I remember this one time we were in a crunch. Everyone was panicking, except Sven. Sven was so cool. He just unzipped his trousers, pissed out strawberry Nesquick and ate us all out to safety. It’s that “Make anything happen” attitude that made Sven so loveable. This particular tale happened a couple of years ago in the 3rd and a half month on the eleventy first day, under the light of a full moon…
P.S. Please note that the images used in this post do not belong to me, these images were the closest I could Google that represents Sven and leaf people.
After 15 minutes of chewing and smoking cat-nip his pupils were dilated and his movements restless.
“C’mon, man! It’s just standing there. That rocket ship isn’t going to flight itself! Get me my Hunter Thompson glasses and meet me in the cockpit.” He meowed loudly at his owner. “And bring more cat-nip!” He shouted as an after thought. “Its under the Christmas tree!” He mewed even louder as an after after thought.
“I dont think thi…”
“Bat country here we come!” Interrupted the cat. “Did you bring the crisps? Ah, forget it.” He mewed as he pawed the controls, sending the rocket ship blasting high into the Saturday afternoon, early evening sky…
“What a night.” He mewed between dry whiskers, “High on catnip and a sketchy rocket-ship flight to vegas, well worth the hang-over. That’s what Sundays are for.”