12 August 2007
Scratching the Itch
June, 1856.
And so, Botter and I went on to spend the next couple of days in the captivity of the comely lady pirates. It was not an uncomfortable captivity; indeed, we were allowed to wander freely about the decks of the Hairy Clam, we were fed well, and enjoyed frequent intercourse with the female crew as and when they demanded it, which was often, as the poor ladies had been starved of male company for months. Luckily, I was more than up for the task, although I feared Botter might wind up spraining something before too long.
However, as agreeable as our situation was, the more pressing matter of getting to America to aid my brother Ludlow played upon my mind, and I spent much of the time in between pumpings trying to formulate a plan for our escape.
On one such night, Botter and I were holed up in our cabin, frantically trying to plot our bid for freedom.
“What about, if we dress up as ladies, milord? Then the other ladies might confuse us for the other crew members, and think the real us have already escaped, and be so distracted trying to find us that we – the real real we – can slip away quietly,” Botter said.
“Botter, is this just another laughably flimsy excuse for you to adorn women’s clothing again?” I asked.
“I likes the fabrics,” Botter said, defensively.
I grunted, and turned back to a schematic of the ship, which I had drawn up from my frequent constitutions aboard the vessel.
“There must be something we can do,” I mused, pouring over the plans. “There must be…”
Sometimes, one can spend an age carefully plotting and planning, only for Madam Fate to drop a solution right into your lap. In this case, Madam Fate dropped something else entirely into the laps of our captors, an event heralded by a piercing scream coming from the upper deck. Botter and I both looked upwards, then to each other.
“Egads!” I cried, leaping to my feet. “Something is afoot!”
We rushed upstairs, and found a scene of utter chaos and confusion, with woman strewn about the decks, scratching at their crotches in a most frenzied manner. Captain Labia NoBeard stood watching the melee with bewilderment, until she spotted us and stormed over, her face scarlet with rage.
“YOU TWO!” She snapped. “You two have bought a plague upon this ship!”
“I don’t recall packing a plague in among my luggage,” I returned. “Did you bring a plague, Botter?”
“SHUT UP!” Labia screamed. “Half of my crew have been infected with…with…with crabs!”
“Well, we are at sea,” I said. “There are a lot of crabs about, in the sea.”
“You know full well what I am talking about, Likely! Pubic lice! Crabs! My poor girls are crawling with them.” Labia cried, shaking with anger.
“Ah,” I said. “Well, while I can vouch for the health of my own manhood’s mane, I fear Botter may have been slightly less discerning with regards to tending to his own cock-foliage. I suppose I should have warned you, really.”
“Well, your silence will cost you dearly. You shall walk the plank for this, your lordship.”
Botter gasped, and looked up at me, desperation in his eyes. I smiled.
“Agreed,” I stated, much to my man-servant’s horror. “Of course, I shall take my secret remedy for the removal of lice to my watery grave, which will be a terrible, terrible shame…”
“Remedy?” Labia asked. “You know of a remedy?”
“Oh, quite so,” I claimed. “One needs to be prepared for all eventualities, if one is to follow a life of non-stop nookie, as I have done.”
Labia rubbed her chin in thoughtful contemplation, clearly caught in a struggle between letting me live awhile longer, and dying at this very instance.
“Look inside your heart, my dear Labia,” I said, placing a hand gently upon her chest, ensuring I got a good feel of her breast as I did so. “I am sure it will lead you right.”
Labia nodded, slowly. “Aye. I have decided. I shall let you live another day, your lordship, but only because I care for the well-being of my crew. As soon as they are better again, you shall die as promised.”
“That seems entirely reasonable,” I said, my hand still resting lightly upon her bosom.
“And please, take your hand off of my breast before I slice it off,” Labia added, waving a cutlass in my direction.
I withdrew the offending appendage, and smiled apologetically.
“My apologies, my dear. Now, tell your ladies to meet up here tomorrow morning, ready for treatment. And be sure to tell them to be lightly dressed, for that will…better facilitate the treatment. Yes!”
Labia pondered a moment, then nodded firmly, and strode over to her crew to relay the latest events. As she bent over to talk to the stricken, I happily admired her fulsome backside.
“I think I shall have to have one more for the road,” I said, watching as her derrière wiggled suggestively in the air.
“There is no road,” Botter reminded me.
“One for the sea, then!” I exclaimed, putting my arm around my man-servant in an uncharacteristic display of good cheer. “One for the sea!”
Botter laughed, and scratched at his groin. Naturally, I withdrew my arm with due haste.
- Lord Likely.
