Oxygen
Love is like oxygen, you get too much and you get too high . . .
That's very much a good line from a good song.
In other news, 13 assignments left until Autumn is over. 10 days until the roommates leave, 11 days until finals, 21 days until I move, and 188 days until summer. It's that last one I've been thinking about the most.
For your entertainment, here's a short story about pirates.
Once upon a time there was a pirate who lived in a little house on a cliff by the sea. Her name was Captain Blackheart, and she was the saltiest of salty dogs.
Once in a while she'd go to town and round up the scurviest of crew to go pirating with her. As a matter of fact, when she woke up just this morning, she thought to herself "I feel like plundering some merchant ships." So she slipped on her trusty mudcaked pirate boots and strode into town.
When she got to town, she stopped by a popular pirate tavern called the Scurvy Lime. She stood upon the bar and announced her intent to find a crew for this upcoming mission. A bunch of drunken sods gathered at her feet, always willing to do a little plundering for more whiskey money. And the amongst them was a young farmhand, a virgin to life and seeking adventure.
"Arr, me lad," she said to him, then took a sip of whiskey. "What makes you think you've got it in you to be a pirate?"
"Well ma'am," he started. "I'll work hard, whatever little chore needs to be done, I'll do it. Anything at all."
"Aye, that may be true." Blackheart replied, "but any of these drunkards would do the same for half a bottle of whiskey."
"Yes but..." Then the boy started then rambled off a long list of reasons, probably thought up weeks in advance, as to why he'd make a good pirate on the Captain's ship. The Captain listened to him drone on for awhile before stopping him.
"Yes, yes, t'is good and all that you'd be happy to chase the rats down armed with nothing but a fork, but why would you want to be a pirate?" The farmhand stopped talking and thought for a moment. "For adventure, ma'am." She looked the boy up and down. Hm, an adventure seeker, she thought. Not unlike herself, when she first started the pirating business.
"Fair enough, boy. You're in. We sail tomorrow at noon!" The Captain shouted to her newly assembled crew. "Be to the docks then, or you'll have to find some other way to get your daily drink."
The very next day at noon, the ragtag crew assembled at the docks, right in front of Captain Blackheart's ship, the Drunken Mermaid. She took out her Big Stick of Crew Whipping and smacked a fellow known as One-Eyed Pete with it. "Stand up straight, you pissant!" she screeched into his one good ear.
"Thank you ma'am, may I have another?" he replied dutifully. She walked down the dock and carefully surveyed the crew.
"Disgraceful, the lot of you." "Especially YOU," she remarked, as she stopped in front of the young farmhand. He beamed brightly at her, dressed to the tee in a frilly white shirt, black knickers, white hose, and shiny patent leather boots with brass buckles. "What the hell kind of a costume party do ye think this is, lad?" she snapped at him.
"Not a costume, ma'am, but proper pirate attire. I figured if I was to be a pirate I ought to dress the part."
"What's yer name, lad?" she said in a cold voice, peering carefully at him.
"My name is . . . " He started, but she quickly cut him off. "It doesn't matter what your name is now, boy. What matters is that there's a job for you. The hold is a mess. Apparently mules get seasick, did you know that?"
"No ma'am." He replied.
"Well now you do." She stated simply. "There's a bucket and a rag for you to clean up with on board, but first find some proper clothes on. We're not having a ballroom dance on board." She walked briskly along while the rest of the crew laughed at the boy. He groaned inwardly and wished he hadn't sold his old clothes to pay for his breakfast that morning.
"Captain, these are the only clothes I have." He shouted after her.
"Pity," she replied. "They're -almost- too nice to get dirty. Now get on board and start scrubbing." He grabbed the bucket and rag, and walked up the gangplank and across the deck towards the hold while the Captain briefed the rest of the crew. As he looked down the ladder leading towards the ships underbelly, the smell overwhelmed him. This was not adventure as he had planned.
The ship set sail at high noon, and around 12:05 the young man suddenly found his stomach overwhelmed by a certain need to expunge his entire breakfast. "A little drinky will help with that, mate." muttered a smarmy pirate into his ear as he discreetly vomited in a corner.
"Little drink of rum, love!" squwaked the pirate on his shoulder. The young man turned around and found himself staring into the one bloodshot eye of a grizzly peglegged man.
"Me name's Deaf Sammy, what be yours, boy?" He pondered this for a moment, knowing that someone with such a name might not be able to comprehend a response to his question.
"Speak up, boy! I aten't deaf, but I knows you aten't mute."
"Then why do they call you Deaf Sammy?" he asked.
"Cap'n can't tell me apart from me brother Pete, even though I be the one wearin' the eyepatch, he still be old One-Eye."
"Excuse me for a moment," said the young man as he quickly turned away and lost the rest of his lunch.
"Oy, somethin' for ya," said the grizzly pirate as he slipped a bottle of rum to the young man.
"Thank you, sir, though I've never had rum before. It has alcohol in it, doesn't it?"
The grizzly pirate guffawed heartily, and through tears and laughter he said, "boy, you aten't going to be no real pirate until ye can handle yer liquor. Rum be the universal drink of pirates everywhere." The young man nodded and took that into consideration.
"Anyhow, if ye don't mind, I've got some business to finish up," said the grizzly pirate as he unzipped his trousers and headed into one of the mule stalls.
In the meantime, Captain Blackheart stood at the helm of her ship, tasting the salt air. "Aye, this mission be a success, I can already feel it in me bones." She peered out across the ocean through her telescope. "Take over the lookout bit," she instructed her first mate, Bloody Nancy.
They saluted each other and Captain Blackheart retired to her quarters to go over some maps. "Time for a bit of peace and quiet," thought Captain Blackheart, as she looked in a cabinet containing numerous bottles of varyingly opaque liquids. "Hm . . . I think this will be perfect to look over the maps with." She said to herself as she pulled out a bottle of deep red wine and poured herself a glass. She pulled a map out of a drawer and spread it across the large oak table in the middle of the room. "Let's see, the latest shipment of Spanish gold should be leaving port in a few days." She said to no one in particular. "If the winds hold up like they are, we can probably intercept them off the coast of Jamaica and . . ."
Her concentration was shattered as the door swung open. She looked up and saw the farm hand standing in the door, having a hell of a time standing up. "I believe I told Bloody Nancy that no one was to disturb me in my quarters. What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Welll . . . you sheee . . . " He began, having trouble not slurring his words, "Deaf Shammy and I were having a little bit of a conversation over a shwig or two of rum . . ." he hiccoughed. "And I came to the conclushunn that theresh been a whole lot of . . . of . . . rolling! That'sh it! Rolling around in mule vomit and not nearly enough advenshuring, which is why I wanted to be a pirate in the first place." He finally lost his fight against gravity and sat down hard in the doorway.
"Do you see my problemsh here?" He asked the captain.
"I see your problem is that you're an idiot who can not hold his rum." She stated bluntly. "What is your name, boy?" He gazed up at the Captain with a genuine look of concern on his face.
"I'm not really shure." He scratched his head. "Doesh it start with H? Or maybe P?" The ship lurched from a particularly large wave at that point, causing the young man to be tossed headfirst into the door. Groaning loudly, he passed out.
"Bah." the Captain muttered and stepped over the boy. She walked over to the hatch and shouted down, "Deaf Sammy, what is the meaning of this?" The ragged old pirate popped up from the hold.
"The meaning of what, m'lady?" He asked. She pointed to the boy sprawled in the doorway in front of her quarters.
"The meaning of that." she replied.
"Well, he didn't know what rum was. I had to show 'im it's joys."
Captain Blackheart stared angrily at him. "Perhaps I won't make you walk the plank if you can tell me his name."
The pirate frowned. "Well ma'am, he told me, but I'm not sure exactly what it was. Old me, hard of hearing and all. Muh... Muhth... Muhth-ay-ers, maybe?" She rolled her eyes. She knew he wasn't hard of hearing at all.
"Matthias, perhaps?" she queried.
"Yes ma'am, that was definitely it," He responded quickly, eager not to call on the captain's wrath this early into the voyage.
"Deal with him now, before I decide you'd make a better example of yourself by walking the plank." She walked back to her quarters, stepping over the limp body as she went. She picked up the wine and resumed looking at the map. "Perhaps a second glass will be called for."
Matthias groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. The world began to appear around him in a blurry haze. He sat up and promptly smacked his head on the board of the bunk bed above him. "Ohh . . ." he groaned.
The sound of a bell ringing in the distance slowly gained volume in the background. Suddenly, the door to the room burst open and a mostly toothless pirate in a head scarf barked at him. "Hey, it be dinnertime! You best show up to dinner or the captain will not be pleased."
"Ohh . . ." he moaned, recalling his earlier encounter with the captain. "Way to leave a first impression," he muttered to himself.
"Stop muttering and go have your meal, not that such a slacker is likely to get rations today. Sleepin' off the whole day whilst the rest of us work harder than mules," lectured the old man in disgust.
"If I'm not going to get rations, why should I show up for dinner?" queried Matthias.
"Cap'n hands out assignments for tomorrow at dinner," stated the old man in a way that made Matthias feel very very small. "And she might feel like hittin' you a bit with that big ol' stick, considerin' how pissed off she is at you. And for entertainment purposes, of course." The old man sauntered off and continued to ring the bell, calling "dinnertime! Come eat it up you lousy dogs!" down the hallway.
Matthias rubbed the quickly forming bump on his head. More than anything, he wished he had known what he was getting into before he had gotten into it. Chances are if he had, he would have avoided this whole mess. "Being a pirate isn't fun at all, and the captain sure is hard to please," he muttered quietly to himself as he stalked off to the mess hall. "In retrospect, I also wish I had brought a spare pair of underwear on board."
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," stated a passing crewmate who had overheard his monologue.
Matthias blushed a little and slipped quietly into the mess hall and took a seat at the far end of the table, hoping to avoid being noticed by the captain any more today. The food was passed around by the ship's cook, and to Matthias's dismay, it was salted ham and brine pickles. "Does everything on the ocean have to be so SALTY?" he asked himself aloud. He was met with a dozen angry gazes.
"I suppose ye'd rather be eating rotten meat for dinner then, boy?" spat the cook. Matthias sunk down and his seat, shook his head slowly, and made the prompt decision to shut up. When everyone was seated, the captain made a grand entrance and sat in the big chair at the end of the table opposite Matthias.
"Let's hear it for Captain Ruby Blackheart!" shouted Bloody Nancy from the seat next to her, raising her glass of mead into the air. This was followed by a course of whooping and hollering from the crew, and that was followed by the celebratory quaffing of mead. Matthias stared in dismay as his glass of water, but in retrospect felt grateful that he at least got fresh water to drink. He took a large sip and scowled. This was, in fact, not fresh water, but it did have a nice kelpy aftertaste.
As dinner started to come to an end, and loud guffawing mellowed into quiet murmuring, the captain stood in her chair and the room came to a silence. Bloody Nancy handed her a scroll, and she unrolled it and began to read the crew's assignments from it. Matthias listened carefully for his assignment, but his name didn't come up. He did take note that Deaf Sammy was on mule puke duty for tomorrow. Likely he didn't mind, at any rate.
At the end of the assignment call, the captain paused for a moment, then announced "Matthias, you're to see my in my quarters after dinner." Forty pairs of eyes fell on him and he shrank back in his seat. Some crewmen snickered, others drew their fingers across their throat. Captain Blackheart isolated her cold gaze at him before turning her attention back to the room.
"Disperse, the lot of you lousy peons!" she shouted and everyone rose from their seats and returned to their quarters. Matthias quickly scurried out of the mess hall and to the door of the captain's quarters.
"You had a good run, it was short, but it was an honest life," he confidently told himself before he entered.
That's very much a good line from a good song.
In other news, 13 assignments left until Autumn is over. 10 days until the roommates leave, 11 days until finals, 21 days until I move, and 188 days until summer. It's that last one I've been thinking about the most.
For your entertainment, here's a short story about pirates.
Once upon a time there was a pirate who lived in a little house on a cliff by the sea. Her name was Captain Blackheart, and she was the saltiest of salty dogs.
Once in a while she'd go to town and round up the scurviest of crew to go pirating with her. As a matter of fact, when she woke up just this morning, she thought to herself "I feel like plundering some merchant ships." So she slipped on her trusty mudcaked pirate boots and strode into town.
When she got to town, she stopped by a popular pirate tavern called the Scurvy Lime. She stood upon the bar and announced her intent to find a crew for this upcoming mission. A bunch of drunken sods gathered at her feet, always willing to do a little plundering for more whiskey money. And the amongst them was a young farmhand, a virgin to life and seeking adventure.
"Arr, me lad," she said to him, then took a sip of whiskey. "What makes you think you've got it in you to be a pirate?"
"Well ma'am," he started. "I'll work hard, whatever little chore needs to be done, I'll do it. Anything at all."
"Aye, that may be true." Blackheart replied, "but any of these drunkards would do the same for half a bottle of whiskey."
"Yes but..." Then the boy started then rambled off a long list of reasons, probably thought up weeks in advance, as to why he'd make a good pirate on the Captain's ship. The Captain listened to him drone on for awhile before stopping him.
"Yes, yes, t'is good and all that you'd be happy to chase the rats down armed with nothing but a fork, but why would you want to be a pirate?" The farmhand stopped talking and thought for a moment. "For adventure, ma'am." She looked the boy up and down. Hm, an adventure seeker, she thought. Not unlike herself, when she first started the pirating business.
"Fair enough, boy. You're in. We sail tomorrow at noon!" The Captain shouted to her newly assembled crew. "Be to the docks then, or you'll have to find some other way to get your daily drink."
The very next day at noon, the ragtag crew assembled at the docks, right in front of Captain Blackheart's ship, the Drunken Mermaid. She took out her Big Stick of Crew Whipping and smacked a fellow known as One-Eyed Pete with it. "Stand up straight, you pissant!" she screeched into his one good ear.
"Thank you ma'am, may I have another?" he replied dutifully. She walked down the dock and carefully surveyed the crew.
"Disgraceful, the lot of you." "Especially YOU," she remarked, as she stopped in front of the young farmhand. He beamed brightly at her, dressed to the tee in a frilly white shirt, black knickers, white hose, and shiny patent leather boots with brass buckles. "What the hell kind of a costume party do ye think this is, lad?" she snapped at him.
"Not a costume, ma'am, but proper pirate attire. I figured if I was to be a pirate I ought to dress the part."
"What's yer name, lad?" she said in a cold voice, peering carefully at him.
"My name is . . . " He started, but she quickly cut him off. "It doesn't matter what your name is now, boy. What matters is that there's a job for you. The hold is a mess. Apparently mules get seasick, did you know that?"
"No ma'am." He replied.
"Well now you do." She stated simply. "There's a bucket and a rag for you to clean up with on board, but first find some proper clothes on. We're not having a ballroom dance on board." She walked briskly along while the rest of the crew laughed at the boy. He groaned inwardly and wished he hadn't sold his old clothes to pay for his breakfast that morning.
"Captain, these are the only clothes I have." He shouted after her.
"Pity," she replied. "They're -almost- too nice to get dirty. Now get on board and start scrubbing." He grabbed the bucket and rag, and walked up the gangplank and across the deck towards the hold while the Captain briefed the rest of the crew. As he looked down the ladder leading towards the ships underbelly, the smell overwhelmed him. This was not adventure as he had planned.
The ship set sail at high noon, and around 12:05 the young man suddenly found his stomach overwhelmed by a certain need to expunge his entire breakfast. "A little drinky will help with that, mate." muttered a smarmy pirate into his ear as he discreetly vomited in a corner.
"Little drink of rum, love!" squwaked the pirate on his shoulder. The young man turned around and found himself staring into the one bloodshot eye of a grizzly peglegged man.
"Me name's Deaf Sammy, what be yours, boy?" He pondered this for a moment, knowing that someone with such a name might not be able to comprehend a response to his question.
"Speak up, boy! I aten't deaf, but I knows you aten't mute."
"Then why do they call you Deaf Sammy?" he asked.
"Cap'n can't tell me apart from me brother Pete, even though I be the one wearin' the eyepatch, he still be old One-Eye."
"Excuse me for a moment," said the young man as he quickly turned away and lost the rest of his lunch.
"Oy, somethin' for ya," said the grizzly pirate as he slipped a bottle of rum to the young man.
"Thank you, sir, though I've never had rum before. It has alcohol in it, doesn't it?"
The grizzly pirate guffawed heartily, and through tears and laughter he said, "boy, you aten't going to be no real pirate until ye can handle yer liquor. Rum be the universal drink of pirates everywhere." The young man nodded and took that into consideration.
"Anyhow, if ye don't mind, I've got some business to finish up," said the grizzly pirate as he unzipped his trousers and headed into one of the mule stalls.
In the meantime, Captain Blackheart stood at the helm of her ship, tasting the salt air. "Aye, this mission be a success, I can already feel it in me bones." She peered out across the ocean through her telescope. "Take over the lookout bit," she instructed her first mate, Bloody Nancy.
They saluted each other and Captain Blackheart retired to her quarters to go over some maps. "Time for a bit of peace and quiet," thought Captain Blackheart, as she looked in a cabinet containing numerous bottles of varyingly opaque liquids. "Hm . . . I think this will be perfect to look over the maps with." She said to herself as she pulled out a bottle of deep red wine and poured herself a glass. She pulled a map out of a drawer and spread it across the large oak table in the middle of the room. "Let's see, the latest shipment of Spanish gold should be leaving port in a few days." She said to no one in particular. "If the winds hold up like they are, we can probably intercept them off the coast of Jamaica and . . ."
Her concentration was shattered as the door swung open. She looked up and saw the farm hand standing in the door, having a hell of a time standing up. "I believe I told Bloody Nancy that no one was to disturb me in my quarters. What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Welll . . . you sheee . . . " He began, having trouble not slurring his words, "Deaf Shammy and I were having a little bit of a conversation over a shwig or two of rum . . ." he hiccoughed. "And I came to the conclushunn that theresh been a whole lot of . . . of . . . rolling! That'sh it! Rolling around in mule vomit and not nearly enough advenshuring, which is why I wanted to be a pirate in the first place." He finally lost his fight against gravity and sat down hard in the doorway.
"Do you see my problemsh here?" He asked the captain.
"I see your problem is that you're an idiot who can not hold his rum." She stated bluntly. "What is your name, boy?" He gazed up at the Captain with a genuine look of concern on his face.
"I'm not really shure." He scratched his head. "Doesh it start with H? Or maybe P?" The ship lurched from a particularly large wave at that point, causing the young man to be tossed headfirst into the door. Groaning loudly, he passed out.
"Bah." the Captain muttered and stepped over the boy. She walked over to the hatch and shouted down, "Deaf Sammy, what is the meaning of this?" The ragged old pirate popped up from the hold.
"The meaning of what, m'lady?" He asked. She pointed to the boy sprawled in the doorway in front of her quarters.
"The meaning of that." she replied.
"Well, he didn't know what rum was. I had to show 'im it's joys."
Captain Blackheart stared angrily at him. "Perhaps I won't make you walk the plank if you can tell me his name."
The pirate frowned. "Well ma'am, he told me, but I'm not sure exactly what it was. Old me, hard of hearing and all. Muh... Muhth... Muhth-ay-ers, maybe?" She rolled her eyes. She knew he wasn't hard of hearing at all.
"Matthias, perhaps?" she queried.
"Yes ma'am, that was definitely it," He responded quickly, eager not to call on the captain's wrath this early into the voyage.
"Deal with him now, before I decide you'd make a better example of yourself by walking the plank." She walked back to her quarters, stepping over the limp body as she went. She picked up the wine and resumed looking at the map. "Perhaps a second glass will be called for."
Matthias groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. The world began to appear around him in a blurry haze. He sat up and promptly smacked his head on the board of the bunk bed above him. "Ohh . . ." he groaned.
The sound of a bell ringing in the distance slowly gained volume in the background. Suddenly, the door to the room burst open and a mostly toothless pirate in a head scarf barked at him. "Hey, it be dinnertime! You best show up to dinner or the captain will not be pleased."
"Ohh . . ." he moaned, recalling his earlier encounter with the captain. "Way to leave a first impression," he muttered to himself.
"Stop muttering and go have your meal, not that such a slacker is likely to get rations today. Sleepin' off the whole day whilst the rest of us work harder than mules," lectured the old man in disgust.
"If I'm not going to get rations, why should I show up for dinner?" queried Matthias.
"Cap'n hands out assignments for tomorrow at dinner," stated the old man in a way that made Matthias feel very very small. "And she might feel like hittin' you a bit with that big ol' stick, considerin' how pissed off she is at you. And for entertainment purposes, of course." The old man sauntered off and continued to ring the bell, calling "dinnertime! Come eat it up you lousy dogs!" down the hallway.
Matthias rubbed the quickly forming bump on his head. More than anything, he wished he had known what he was getting into before he had gotten into it. Chances are if he had, he would have avoided this whole mess. "Being a pirate isn't fun at all, and the captain sure is hard to please," he muttered quietly to himself as he stalked off to the mess hall. "In retrospect, I also wish I had brought a spare pair of underwear on board."
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," stated a passing crewmate who had overheard his monologue.
Matthias blushed a little and slipped quietly into the mess hall and took a seat at the far end of the table, hoping to avoid being noticed by the captain any more today. The food was passed around by the ship's cook, and to Matthias's dismay, it was salted ham and brine pickles. "Does everything on the ocean have to be so SALTY?" he asked himself aloud. He was met with a dozen angry gazes.
"I suppose ye'd rather be eating rotten meat for dinner then, boy?" spat the cook. Matthias sunk down and his seat, shook his head slowly, and made the prompt decision to shut up. When everyone was seated, the captain made a grand entrance and sat in the big chair at the end of the table opposite Matthias.
"Let's hear it for Captain Ruby Blackheart!" shouted Bloody Nancy from the seat next to her, raising her glass of mead into the air. This was followed by a course of whooping and hollering from the crew, and that was followed by the celebratory quaffing of mead. Matthias stared in dismay as his glass of water, but in retrospect felt grateful that he at least got fresh water to drink. He took a large sip and scowled. This was, in fact, not fresh water, but it did have a nice kelpy aftertaste.
As dinner started to come to an end, and loud guffawing mellowed into quiet murmuring, the captain stood in her chair and the room came to a silence. Bloody Nancy handed her a scroll, and she unrolled it and began to read the crew's assignments from it. Matthias listened carefully for his assignment, but his name didn't come up. He did take note that Deaf Sammy was on mule puke duty for tomorrow. Likely he didn't mind, at any rate.
At the end of the assignment call, the captain paused for a moment, then announced "Matthias, you're to see my in my quarters after dinner." Forty pairs of eyes fell on him and he shrank back in his seat. Some crewmen snickered, others drew their fingers across their throat. Captain Blackheart isolated her cold gaze at him before turning her attention back to the room.
"Disperse, the lot of you lousy peons!" she shouted and everyone rose from their seats and returned to their quarters. Matthias quickly scurried out of the mess hall and to the door of the captain's quarters.
"You had a good run, it was short, but it was an honest life," he confidently told himself before he entered.