Thursday, September 29, 2005

A broken man on the Quyon pier

Ahh, Vendetta, th' places ye've been ta, th' stories, ye tell...All I remember is stumbling in the dark below decks, a crashin' thump on the back of me' skull and I awoke in a stormy sea, with a carpet bag lashed around me neck fer a life preserver.

I floated fer several days. Me only sustenance a tin o' lemon squares in th' carpet bag. When I began to give up hope of ever seeing land again, a US Coast Guard cutter rescued me. I'd a fine time convincin' them not to send me t' Guantanamo or Damascus. They were mighty suspicious of the cross-shaped bruise on the back of me head.

I'm back home now. The adventure didn't kill me, but I can't say it made me stronger.

I fear the pirate's life may not be fer me after all. I've some thinkin' t'do.

As fer the Fifth Muse, I was worried about her when I first got back to reading her entries, missing all of Tuesday and obsessing about M instead of sleeping, but now she's spied a rainbow through the slats of her blind. Amen.