Swab the decks or know the point of me blade at yer rump urging ya off the gang plank...landlubber, I shoulda let yer rot on the tavern floor in yer own piss waitin’ for the hangman...
No, my Big Swashbuckling Cats, the Kougar is not yowling a new dialect, or trying out a new character...well, meow, she could be, come to squinchy eyes think about it...but really, roar for some more piratey salty dog language *hey, where are the Margueritas? It’s happy hour* because it’s Talk Like a Pirate Day.
Does! the Kougaress wish she was garbed in her pirate sex kitten look, cutlass in hand, with an adorable parrot on her shoulder...on the rolling deck of her sleek ship, gazing out over the vast shimmering sea...a pause before a booty call...no, not that kind of booty call...the call of booty sinking a broad-hulled ship low in the water, fat with gold doubloons and ready to be a fine rich feast by the superior swing of her blade...
So, what would it feel like to be a successful space pirate, to live by raiding the intergalactic corporate freighters, bloated with their fortunes, a constant supply of wealth won by the mercantile-extortion rape, pillage and plunder of nearly every race...their further illegal fortunes gained by corp minions selling every depravity known in the galactic realm...
Scrub out yer slimy grimy ears, mateys, and gather ‘round the mainsail...or the Captain’s bridge...if yer a wantin’ the tip-up-the-ale answers...
First ya find an island moon, hidden and isolated, hollow enough to transform into an eventual paradise...
Second, ya gather a small trusted crew...and watch a new member like a starving hawk...
Third, yer gradually upgrade yer space frigate from under-market supplies only using the accepted coin of that ragtag realm, the commerce codes of the Big Trade Ships...
Fourth, ya grab by hook or crook any and every energy-dispensing device ya can get ya desperate paws on...
Fifth, ya always steal food supplies, more of a priority than the ‘riches and treasures’ transported, unless it’s the son of a Solar System magnate, who will pay any price you demand...but that’s ahead of the story, mateys...
Six, ya keep the water tanks stocked aboard ship and on yer moon island, under the penalty of certain death...yours...
Seven, ya keep top bitch control no matter the barbaric manner of the fight, ‘cause it’s your hanging hide you’ll be savin’, and if you don’t, it’ll be your wind-swinging holo-vised flesh for all to witness...
Eight, ya try to grab eight winks of rest whenever no one notices...and ya keep totally secret, the little exotic device that can make a double of ya for a short time...if there’s enough generation of power...if...
Nine, once yer frigate is filled to the brim and requires a spec overhaul, ya head to yer hidden moon base, and pray you’ll make it, then get a long soak in the bubble bath before another crises challenges you to a duel of wits and weapons...
Ten, ya learn every seductive trick in the galactic ‘different races’ book, cause ya never know when you might need it to save yer arse, yer crew’s arse...or discover when the next shipment of pulse pistols, the latest design, is comin’ yer way...yo ho ho and a bottle the Magnate’s rum...what his cocky and loin-cocked son was hauling...
Hmmm...maybe the plot for Gold Treasure Moon...
In honor of Talk Like a Pirate’s day...CutThroat, when Geena Davis played the role of a Lady Pirate...maybe not cinematic memorable, the Kougar remembers...
No, my Big Swashbuckling Cats, the Kougar is not yowling a new dialect, or trying out a new character...well, meow, she could be, come to squinchy eyes think about it...but really, roar for some more piratey salty dog language *hey, where are the Margueritas? It’s happy hour* because it’s Talk Like a Pirate Day.
Does! the Kougaress wish she was garbed in her pirate sex kitten look, cutlass in hand, with an adorable parrot on her shoulder...on the rolling deck of her sleek ship, gazing out over the vast shimmering sea...a pause before a booty call...no, not that kind of booty call...the call of booty sinking a broad-hulled ship low in the water, fat with gold doubloons and ready to be a fine rich feast by the superior swing of her blade...
So, what would it feel like to be a successful space pirate, to live by raiding the intergalactic corporate freighters, bloated with their fortunes, a constant supply of wealth won by the mercantile-extortion rape, pillage and plunder of nearly every race...their further illegal fortunes gained by corp minions selling every depravity known in the galactic realm...
Scrub out yer slimy grimy ears, mateys, and gather ‘round the mainsail...or the Captain’s bridge...if yer a wantin’ the tip-up-the-ale answers...
First ya find an island moon, hidden and isolated, hollow enough to transform into an eventual paradise...
Second, ya gather a small trusted crew...and watch a new member like a starving hawk...
Third, yer gradually upgrade yer space frigate from under-market supplies only using the accepted coin of that ragtag realm, the commerce codes of the Big Trade Ships...
Fourth, ya grab by hook or crook any and every energy-dispensing device ya can get ya desperate paws on...
Fifth, ya always steal food supplies, more of a priority than the ‘riches and treasures’ transported, unless it’s the son of a Solar System magnate, who will pay any price you demand...but that’s ahead of the story, mateys...
Six, ya keep the water tanks stocked aboard ship and on yer moon island, under the penalty of certain death...yours...
Seven, ya keep top bitch control no matter the barbaric manner of the fight, ‘cause it’s your hanging hide you’ll be savin’, and if you don’t, it’ll be your wind-swinging holo-vised flesh for all to witness...
Eight, ya try to grab eight winks of rest whenever no one notices...and ya keep totally secret, the little exotic device that can make a double of ya for a short time...if there’s enough generation of power...if...
Nine, once yer frigate is filled to the brim and requires a spec overhaul, ya head to yer hidden moon base, and pray you’ll make it, then get a long soak in the bubble bath before another crises challenges you to a duel of wits and weapons...
Ten, ya learn every seductive trick in the galactic ‘different races’ book, cause ya never know when you might need it to save yer arse, yer crew’s arse...or discover when the next shipment of pulse pistols, the latest design, is comin’ yer way...yo ho ho and a bottle the Magnate’s rum...what his cocky and loin-cocked son was hauling...
Hmmm...maybe the plot for Gold Treasure Moon...
In honor of Talk Like a Pirate’s day...CutThroat, when Geena Davis played the role of a Lady Pirate...maybe not cinematic memorable, the Kougar remembers...
Thank you, Midnight Seductions loop for a fun piratey good day...
P. S. Hey! Government of the people, for the people, and by the people...I want my debts scrubbed clean too...where’s my bailout?
Salty sea smooch from the Kougar...
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