Showing posts with label Last Call. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Last Call. Show all posts
Friday, September 27, 2013
Last Call at the Bar
Well, I thought about getting drunk and having a blog full
of nothing by self-pity and whining and they’d we’d finally get over the
melancholy and start telling dirty jokes and laughing. But it seems like most
of that has all been done…
I’ve wiped this bar a thousand times, from the first one I
put together, made up of old scraps lying about the deck. Some I fished out of
the water. The Kraken brought me more. I salvaged nail and used my shoe to
hammer it together. Only sat one, but the rest of you were willing to wait for
a turn. Or Hels would come by and kick Jack outta the way so the rest had a
chance.
Then I had the great fancy bar, but it really were a bit
much. And though Hector liked it, he was willing to help me start anew when we returned
to our less grand digs. At least he found me some shelves that weren’t so
warped. And time passed…
Tales we told to each other, and drinks we shared,
friendships were forged and oaths sworn. And now? Now the Revenge prepares for
its greatest adventure…into the unknown depths of the cyberseas. And who knows
what she’ll find there?
I imagine, years from now, we writer selves will meet our
pirate selves upon a sandy beach, still warm from a day’s sun, the sky full of
a million stars bursting so bright one could read by them.
The pirates will step to the beach, eyes telling impossible
stories of where they’ve sailed and what they’ve seen, the creatures they
discovered, the treasures and troubles they earned.
And we writers? We will be wise with the knowledge of life,
friendships and learning. Some with children, some with dogs, cats…partners.
Precious books in hand, read and written. I can see Christie, a kitten on each
shoulder, head shadowed by the deep hood of her jacket, bopping to the music
filling her head from the earbuds. Fran will smack her shoulder, dislodge one
of the kittens and hand it back as the earbuds fall away.
Terri, Marnee and Halleigh… Santa, J Perry, Lisa and Sabrina…Donna
and Leslie…and the familiar visitors, Janga, Quantum, P. Kirby, Irish… What a
grand party it will be!
Off to the side, a fire roars, and two familiar voices call
out. Jack and Hector stop their constant bickering long enough to welcome back
all the pirates, real and cyber.
Me? I’ll be there. I’ll be handing out drinks, all the
favorites. The Glittery Hooha, The Mighty Mast, The Cock & Balls, The
Bo'sun Burner, The Penis Pill, Silent as Sin, The Wild Cock, Hells' Fire, The
Marneasy, The Rum n'Bum, The Seething Passion, The Booty Call, Sandy Pirate Sex,
Wild Undead Monkey Sex , The Captain's Cocoa Puff, The A'moral Compass, The Kraken's Feast ,The
Facegod, The Bombay Bomber, Stephanie's
Flaming Double Stuffed Twinkies, Full Sail Frappuccino, The Double Dori, The
Terrio Speedwagon, and more, or so many more! (If you want the full list, send
me an email, I’ll send it to you.)
We’ll sing all night, swap stories and lies, kisses and
maybe more as I suspect the Bandits will come with the Hotties they employed
who lost their posts when the Revenge went off. The party will never end, and
slowly, the pirates and the writers will remember each other and as the sun
rises, we’ll be taking up the oars and heading for the ship…she waits for us,
just past the horizon.
And I got nothing more to say. 2nd Chance is such a deep
part of myself, and I came to love her and want her and…want to be her. To me,
the Revenge will always be there, on the horizon… The Kraken’s Mirror started on this ship, in more ways then I’ll
ever reveal. And from that first, came the rest. Thank you, Hellion, Terrio,
Marnee, Hal and all for letting me crawl aboard and create my other self. We
have danced, and sung, drank and written, and thrown our critics to the Kraken…
Now, the wind fills our sails and the ship…she slips away.
I’m off to cry. Then get drunk.
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