(no subject)
I miss the Scumm Bar - sushi's all well and good but after a hard day's loafing around drinking rum on the beach pillaging, you don't immediately think 'oh, I'll just kick back with a nice cold plate of raw fish'. I don't care what the public health authority says; pirate bars are meant to be unsanitary and I'm sure the rats in the ratatouille were just a misunderstanding. So what if the chef never washed his hands! Half the guys in there had never voluntarily washed their hands in their life, and we all knew to leave the suspicious-looking coq-au-vin (I'm not sure coq's supposed to have a tail) to the tourists, anyway.
Because honestly, we get tourists. Mostly buccaneers and itinerant televangelists, but still. Strange how they always ended up visiting Stan's Previously-Owned Coffins more frequently than the bar, though.
*sighs* So now it's either warm saké in the sushi-house or rum on the beach with Murray and the lads from the Barbery Coast. You have to ask yourself just where your life's going when you're drinking on a beach at 3am with three quarters of a pirate barber shop quartet and an undead skull that wants to eat your legs.
So, I was thinking; maybe I'll open a bar. I know, I know, I'm a mighty pirate, not a barkeep, but it could work! What with all the pirates around here and the obvious general disdain for Japanese cuisine. I've got plenty of experience watering down the grog, and okay, though my only cooking job did involve putting a rat in the gazpacho... and I could keep Murray around to scare off the transients and, err, prophesy the Apocalypse or something. Just as long as the voodoo kids don't put him on back on the pike. He gets so cranky.
But it's just until I get a ship and a crew together. I heard this story from a friend of a friend of Pegnose Pete - apparently there's this chest of Aztec gold, on an island that can only be found by someone who already knows where it is...
Because honestly, we get tourists. Mostly buccaneers and itinerant televangelists, but still. Strange how they always ended up visiting Stan's Previously-Owned Coffins more frequently than the bar, though.
*sighs* So now it's either warm saké in the sushi-house or rum on the beach with Murray and the lads from the Barbery Coast. You have to ask yourself just where your life's going when you're drinking on a beach at 3am with three quarters of a pirate barber shop quartet and an undead skull that wants to eat your legs.
So, I was thinking; maybe I'll open a bar. I know, I know, I'm a mighty pirate, not a barkeep, but it could work! What with all the pirates around here and the obvious general disdain for Japanese cuisine. I've got plenty of experience watering down the grog, and okay, though my only cooking job did involve putting a rat in the gazpacho... and I could keep Murray around to scare off the transients and, err, prophesy the Apocalypse or something. Just as long as the voodoo kids don't put him on back on the pike. He gets so cranky.
But it's just until I get a ship and a crew together. I heard this story from a friend of a friend of Pegnose Pete - apparently there's this chest of Aztec gold, on an island that can only be found by someone who already knows where it is...