*Author's note: This small, demented tale has nothing to do with anything and yet contains five universal truths. Can you find them? Then again, it may contain no truths at all, in which case it is simply a small, demented tale. Enjoy. Or not. It's up to you.*
At last, the perambulating vision faded from the place. Thus, proclaimed the town crier, thus have we seen the glory and the light and also the need to include small cocktail weenies with every meal.
Perhaps we could amend that last rule slightly? quavered a mackerel who was huddled on the chaise lounge. Possibly, possibly. One can never tell with these sudden inspirations.
Scumble, the tall blonde rogue-next-door, began to make meaningful little gestures in the direction of the door. Pirates have got a schedule to keep, just like the rest of us. Suddenly, from across the crowded room, Scumble chanced to gaze upon the maiden blacksmith known only as Kettle Serpent Macbeth Macdoodle.
Angel choruses began to sing soulful songs about roses and courtship and bashful gazes. Bugger that, said Scumble, and swept Kettle Serpent Macbeth Macdoodle off her feet and asked her how she'd feel about being Queen of the Pirates. Just great, replied the maiden in question, and they lived happily ever after. Most of the time, except when Scumble forgot to swab the deck. Standards must be maintained, even on a pirate ship.
As for the rest of them, they often had parties. A small grandmother who lived in a teacup played the electric guitar and sang death metal songs on these occasions. Everyone ate small cocktail weenies and talked a great deal about glory and light. Even the mackerel.