Just a few ramblings from a confused guy. Former military, former cop. Husband. Father. Student. Role playing gamer, on intermittent weeks. Avid reader. Internet addict. Small "l" libertarian. Too many others to mention. The views and opinions expressed herein are my own, and do not reflect those of any official agency or government or species. Names have been changed to protect the guilty; God protects the innocent as a matter of course.
“May have been the losing side. Still not convinced it was the wrong one.”
"This report is maybe 12-years-old. Parliament buried it, and it stayed buried till River dug it up. This is what they feared she knew. And they were right to fear because there's a whole universe of folk who are gonna know it, too. They're gonna see it. Somebody has to speak for these people. You all got on this boat for different reasons, but you all come to the same place. So now I'm asking more of you than I have before. Maybe all. Sure as I know anything I know this, they will try again. Maybe on another world, maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, 10, they'll swing back to the belief that they can make people . . . better. And I do not hold to that. So no more running. I aim to misbehave." ~ Captain Malcom Reynolds
Friday, September 19, 2008
Prepare to be boarded!
In honor of September 19th...
T'was a busy week here, both on the high seas and in port. Many a scurvy dog thought to flaunt the King's law, keeping those of us working under his royal writ scrambling about like a monkey in the yardarms during a storm 'bout the Cape...
Dealt with one lad in particular... an early eve, and he was already in his cups, the stench of rum and ale thick about him. The blighter thought that it was the manly thing to do to beat the missus, be she wench or maid; so naturally the poor lass called for aid. Well, when our longboat arrived the scurvy dog was yet wandering 'bout his docks, yelling and threatening all with great harm and generally disturbing the King's peace and acting no gentleman he.
So my shipmate and I entreat the gentleman to peaceably relate his tale, that we may continue to work under the Crown's writ. With the grog thinking for the man he turns his foul impugnment upon us and our work, and we are forced to use both manacles and irons to bring him before the magistrate to face royal justice...
Well, as many do when in custody and manacles, the bilge rat was full of liquid courage... threatening all and sundry with all manner of vile curses, swearing how he shall flog and beat us all, that we'll walk the plank and be in Davy Jones' locker before the sun rises that morn... That the King's law would not stand, and he would see us all before the mast for such indignities... and all the other things that those in his state babble.
Of course, he was still thrown in the brig, and I went home to a peaceful sleep....
Ahoy for now mateys, and more tomorrow eve...
Posted by Captain Tightpants at 11:25 PM
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A fair bit o' writin', Luv. Makes me proud to be yer wench.
But rest assured, you and First Mate Dori have that young lad with the Jedi sword to assist.
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