Booty Call

I wasn‘t surprised the day I was held hostage. It had been a rough week. Someone had stolen my ’78 Ford Pinto--who the hell steals a Pinto? Then I lost the promotion to the new kid--the one who bathes in Axe and tucks his shirt into the Shrek boxers bubbling over his belt. I was sick of it all, but I figured I had my share of bad luck for a while. But there I was standing at one of those little desks that they have for people to sign their checks when the front door smashed open.

“Hit the deck,” yelled the man waving a gun around like some George Nelson wannabee.

George Nelson dressed as a pirate anyway--a large, red feather tilted from his hat, gold jewelry decorated the front of his ruffled shirt, a patch covered one eye, and a gleaming sword hung from the sash on his waist. The only things missing were a peg leg and a parrot on his shoulder.

We stood in awe for a good thirty seconds--except for this little old lady who must have been incredibly nearsighted, she dropped with a sprightly movement I can only hope to emulate when I reach her age.

The pirate repeated his demand, “Down on the floor and no lookin’ at me, you scurvy dogs. I be here to plunder your riches and treasure.”

Everyone dove for the floor. I had the misfortune that the only thing in my line of sight was a pair of red stiletto heels and a tangerine colored polyester pantsuit on a very large woman. 

I shielded my eyes from any errant kicks. She was flopping around like a fish on the boardwalk. I thought she was having a seizure, but I heard later that she was stuffing her jewelry down into the deep crevice between her breasts to hide it from the pirate.

I peeked out to get a better look at our plunderer.

Dragging his left leg behind him, giving the illusion he actually did have a peg leg, he hobbled to the first teller’s station.

“Fill these bags, wench. Be quick about it and no pushin’ the buttons back thar.”

The teller grabbed the bags he held out. She was shaking like the Andy Rooney bobble head I had on the dashboard of my now stolen car.

I started to fantasize about saving the day. Maybe I was saving up my good luck for this very situation. Captain Bob to the rescue if you will. This could be my big chance to change my life around.

I rose to my knees, nervous anticipation making my hands slick with sweat, and a slight tremor traveled through my body.

The pirate saw me and stomped over to where I lay on the floor.

“Cover your eyes, you scoundrel or you be seein‘ the end of a cat o‘nine tails,” he shouted with a phlegm-y cough that sounded like “argh, argh“.