Pirate Dave and his Randy Adventures (Career Ending Romance Spoof) (3 page)

“Thank you,” Dave said.

“No problem.” Ted quickly ducked back to his hiding place.

It took exactly seven minutes and forty-three seconds for Pirate Dave to magic up some necessary body parts. His new lady loves were still passed out from the shock and trauma of being sawed in half, but that was fine with Dave. It would be easier to transport them back to 1492 that way.

“I would like to reward you blue people for making my sex life less complicated. Come out, come out where ever you are,” Dave sang.

In fear for their lives, the doctors and nurses slowly crawled out from their hidey holes. After complimenting the men on their bosoms, Dave gave everyone some Elvis trading cards and three bags of gold. He adjusted his rock hard man-tool, scooped up the still bloody twins and went home to screw.

Chapter Four

“I think I might be on the wrong track. I saw a hairless cat the other day and I almost hurled it was so ugly,” Mother Nature said, smoothing her flowing robes. Her beauty was unparalleled. She wandered about the dank, dreary cave and tried not to touch anything. She didn’t know how anyone could live in such a stinky hell hole. “I just can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe all of my characters will be hairless. Totally hairless. I shall create a butt-ass ugly hero and heroine. My novel will relate to more of the population that way! I am sick of reading about perfect supermodels with perfect bodies and no zits or PMS or criminal records. Don’t get me wrong, they’ll have huge mammaries and the men will be sporting monster packages. I just feel it would be a refreshing change from all the shit cluttering the NY Times Bestseller list.”

“You should stick to wreaking havoc on the world and forget about being a romance writer,” came a feminine voice from the darkened corner of the cave.

“I think you’re jealous,” Mother Nature grinned nastily. “I have hobbies and aspirations. What do you have?”

“A need for vengeance!” the disembodied voice hissed.

“Oooooo, about that . . . ” She ran her perfectly manicured nails through her luxurious raven locks and smiled benevolently at the voice in the darkness. “It didn’t work.”

“What do you mean it didn’t work?” the voice spat.

“Someone saved them. If you ask me, it’s quite romantic,” Mother Nature sighed.

“I didn’t ask you. I paid you to create an earthquake that would kill them!”

“I did,” Mother Nature said breezily. “It’s not my fault someone saved them.”

“I want my money back,” the voice ground out through clenched teeth.

“No can do,” Mother Nature cooed. “I already spent it.”

“Then you will tell me who saved those horrid creatures,” she demanded.

“I can’t remember,” Mother Nature smiled.

“Would a hundred thousand jog you memory?” the voice sneered.

“Two hundred thousand would get you the stats and the address.”

“Fine,” the voice hissed. “But if this doesn’t work, I’ll come after you. I don’t care who you are.”

“Ohhh,” Mother Nature giggled, “you’re such a nasty piece of work.”

Chapter Five

“Are they dead?” Crooked Jim asked of the bloody de-conjoined twins sprawled on the ship’s deck.

“Poseidon’s saggy balls, I hope not,” Pirate Dave muttered. “I went to mounds of trouble to mount them. I’ve never worked so hard for poontang in my life. When they awaken, I shall hump them.”

“Uh, Captain Dave?” Hairy Sam asked. “Would you like them freshened up before they come to?”

Pirate Dave considered the kind offer. They were quite disgusting. The blood had dried and was flaking in a rather unflattering way. Dave was surprised that his man-tool seemed to have no problem with that fact. He idly wondered if his skin flute would take offense to sheep . . .

“Excellent thinking, Hairy Sam! Clean my concubines!” Dave bellowed.

The crew skittered about the ship looking for clean water and soap. Upon finding neither of these items they settled for twelve and a half buckets of sea water. After a thorough dousing, Calico Andy generously picked the fish out of their hair and put them in a pot for dinner.

Then they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

To take his mind off of his painfully hard Johnson, Pirate Dave decided it was story time. His crew loved story time. It was a time of manly bonding and more importantly, it was educational.

“Did I ever tell you how ducks fuck?” Dave asked.

The crew blanched and awaited yet another nightmare inducing tale from their beloved Captain . . .

“Um, no. I can’t say that you’ve regaled us with that one,” Captain Crunchy whispered bravely.

“Well, it was when I time-travelled to 1983 that I came across this amazing phenomenon,” Dave said and propped his knee up on a chest filled with gold. He winced in agony and quickly stood upright. “You’re a cock-sucker, Poseidon,” he wailed at the sky. “Do you think it’s funny that I can’t move about freely because of the state my wiener? Do you think that’s funny?” he screamed.

The crew glanced up at the sky fearfully. They were well aware the day would come when Poseidon would get enraged enough at Dave’s blatant disrespect that he would smite them all down. They prayed today wouldn’t be that day . . .

Dave adjusted himself three times and took a deep cleansing breath. “Where was I, gentlemen?”

“You were about to pontificate on how fowl mate,” Hook said.

“You’re not foul, Mate!” Dave laughed at the now confused crew. “You boys need to listen! I was talking about duck fornication!”

“That’s what I . . . never mind,” Hook said.

“So before I was so rudely interrupted by my peter, I was taking a fond mind trip to 1983. I had taken a job as a lifeguard at Yobohokeeka Park. It had a smallish piece of water upon the land, called a pond. No human was allowed to swim in the pond because of the filthy nature. I myself had no problem with the swill and bathed daily in the shiny, slick refreshment,” Dave explained.

The crew grunted in appreciation of Dave’s manly behavior. They were not sissies. Dave and Hairy Sam had an advantage being immortal and all, but this crew wasn’t afraid of puking or dysentery or ring worm . . . Nope, they were real men.

“Why did they need a lifeguard at Yobakankookie Pond if it was deemed un-swimmable?” Crooked Jim asked.

“Yobohokeeka,” Pirate Dave corrected.

“Yobohokeeka?” Crooked Jim repeated.

“Gesundheit!” Dave shouted. “Now as I was saying, copulation of ducks is violent and a total erection deflator. Ohhhh, and as to why they needed lifeguards . . . one word my friends. Paddle-boats.”

“Ahhhhh,” the crew of idiots cooed, clearly clueless to what Dave referred to.

“Yes! Plastic contraptions that humans get into and maneuver around the pond with their feet. They are wildly excited when they embark on their trip and sweating like whores at confession upon return. It’s a bargain at five dollars a ride.”

“Do the ducks copulate on the boats?” Captain Crunchy asked.

“Good God, no, man. They shit all over them! All night long!” Dave hissed. “Every morning I’d scrub duck feces from the plastic sweat machines. Those flying assholes had an entire park to relieve their bowels, but they chose the paddle-boats to leave their rank excrement!” Dave shrieked in rage.

“Um, Captain?” Hook asked. “What does this have to do with their mating practices?”

“Right,” Dave panted hard after working himself into a tizzy. “I digressed. The ducks reminded me of Fairies and Trolls, very little finesse . . . The female of the species floats around on the swill and presents her lady-bits to as many males as she can. She basically faceplants her hooha upon their heads. Very interesting ploy. This, as you would expect, sends the male shitting machines into a frenzy! They then dive bomb the randy female taking her underwater and practically drowning her while getting their little duck rocks off.”

The crew was struck dumb.

“There is much screaming and flailing,” Dave reported. “The paddle-boat riders found this upsetting and disturbing, so I was instructed to spray the horny dumbasses with a powerful hose to end their crazed sex parties. Strangely enough, one day the water hose didn’t function properly and I was fired for going after the fowl myself. Apparently choking and killing ducks in front of the customers, no matter how offensive their actions, was frowned upon. Are there any questions?”

“No,” Hairy Sam whispered.

“Would you like a demonstration of how to choke and decapitate an overexcited duck?” Dave asked, cracking his knuckles.

“Um . . . no?” Crooked Jim said, not wanting to insult his Captain, but feared Dave would make one of them play the duck.

“Captain,” Calico Andy yelled with relief. “Your loves have awakened!”

“Excellent!” Pirate Dave crowed. “I would have felt horrid had I been forced to take them in a comatose state! I want them to enjoy my salami as much as I shall enjoy them!”

Chapter Six

“Where am I and what have you done with my . . . ” Laverne abruptly halted as she realized she was no longer conjoined with Shirley. “Oh my god,” she gasped.

Shirley wept and stroked her new arm, leg and ass lovingly. “Thank you,” she cried causing the crew to slap their hands over their ears to avoid an eardrum rupture.

“I see you are pleased,” Pirate Dave preened. “I shall now hump you! But which one shall I mount first?”

The crew shouted out their opinions with gusto. Several thought the gals should make out with each other first, but while Dave found the idea intriguing, his pork sword could wait no longer.

He slowly disrobed as he crossed the deck to the now titillated women. He smacked his tongue over his manly lips in promise of things to come. He raised his substantial eyebrows and manhandled his electric eel to impress his gals. It worked! The girls giggled and angled themselves to be more appealing to their hairy, horny savior.

He tripped over a dead fish, but righted himself before he hit the deck. He stared at the twins with a gaze that seemed to sear through their bloody and tattered dresses. The fire in his eyes heated their skin causing them to slap repeatedly at their arms and legs. The sensual coldness in his sexy gaze was like ice, causing the nipples on their bodacious ta-tas to freeze into rock hard pebbles that could put an eye out.

“Sweet baby Jesus in a catsuit! Which one shall I start with?” Dave was torn. This was an important decision. Actually it wasn’t all that important, so he decided to be scientific about it. “Eeny meeny miney moe, catch a mermaid by her toe. If she hollers don’t let go. She will eat you . . . so behead her and then throw her back in the sea. It will send a strong message to all those other man-eating bitches. My Mother says to pick the very best one and you are IT!”

His finger pointed to Shirley. He was pleased with his choice. As long as she didn’t speak, her eagerness to please was highly arousing.

“Wait a minute,” Laverne spat. “I’m the one to go first. I will not take sloppy seconds after my moronic sister!”

“Now, now, Laverne,” Pirate Dave chuckled. “While I find your desire for my divine rod delightful, I have chosen to copulate with Shirley first. You will get your turn in approximately fifty-seven seconds!”

He took the victor, Shirley, into his muscular arms while Laverne pitched a fit nearby. Shirley clung to him like a treed cat with a pack of hyenas on the ground below waiting to kill her. Her grip was painful and stopped the blood flow to his brain, but that mattered not, for most of his life-blood had traveled to his beef-bayonet anyway.

Shirley, calling on her Pilates training, clenched her core muscles in anticipation of gripping her new boyfriend like a life sucking vice. She could hear her sister’s rant and took secret delight in the fact that the big, hairy, unpleasantly aromatic, sexy Time-Traveling Vampire Pirate Warlock had chosen her.

Pirate Dave kissed his voluptuous gal pal. She kissed him back with a wide open wet mouth. He could feel her saliva dripping down his chin. Dave was so turned on he wasn’t sure if he could even last his normal thirty-seven seconds. Just as he was about to remove his breeches and reveal his raison d’être . . . .

“God damn it,” he shouted, yanking his cell phone from his pocket. “Of all the inopportune moments!”

Pirate Dave dropped a slobbering Shirley to the ground and quickly scanned his phone. “ZAX? Son of a bitch!” Dave shrieked. “Where is that obese turd-knocker coming up with this shit? ZAX is not a word!”

“Actually, it is,” Hook whispered, ducking in case Dave decided to hurl his phone.

“Really?” Dave replied in a tone so calm that most of the crew instantly wet their pants.

“Yes,” Hook croaked. He shook like a leaf, but continued. “A zax is a hand tool used by a slater for cutting, trimming and punching nail holes in slate.”

“Well, that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Everyone knows that shape-shifters, especially opossum-shifters, were created for slate work. I call BULLSHIT,” Dave shouted at the sky and was quickly struck by lightning. “Is that all you got?” Dave screamed putting out the fire in his hair. “One of these days I will rip your fat ass from cheek to cheek!”