Miss Hanna's Volcanna 01
A wee lass callin' 'erself Hanna Blondtana, er some other such thing, was swimmin' in her private ocean one day when a pirate came along and netted her up. He took her to his island fortress and stowed her there in a tower until she could learn not to spit.
One day the girl fell in love with the pirate, so he let her out of the tower on good behavior for probation. But. alas! The affections were all a charade. As soon as she had tasted freedom again Hanna Blondtana forgot all about her recent love interest and eloped with a passing surfer dude.
This angered the pirate a wee bit and he decided to do some foul deeds. He pulled together a crew of murdous thugs, one hundred strong, and stole a navy destroyer. They went all o'er the sea, blowin' things up and sinkin' other boats. Finally they came across a young man with a blonde woman on a surf board.
"Heave to!" called the pirate down to them.
"What?" they asked.
"Heave to!"
"What?"
"Oh fer the love of St. Peter!" said the pirate, "Take the sea cucumbers outta yer ears and pay attention. 'Heave to' means ta yield and come near me ship so I can drop down onta yer vessel and have me way with ye."
"What?"
One of the pirate's crewmen patted him on the shoulder. "Steady as she goes, Cap'n."
The pirate brushed away the hand impatiently, his nerves a wreck already, and told the crewman to give him a leg up so he could go o'er the gunwales. The crewman lifted a wooden leg and handed it to the pirate.
"Not that way, ya imbecile!" screamed the pirate, taking the leg and whapping his junior o'er the head with it. "Ah fer the love of St. Job." And he put the peg leg back on his stump and hefted his self o'er the gunwale.
The pirate plunged past ninety feet of freeboard, air whistlin' in his ears, and landed squarely in the middle of the surfboard. But alas, they had exceeded the maximum weight limits of the tiny craft and it snapped in two.
"Dude!" shouted the surfer at the pirate captain, when at last he'd bobbed to the surface again between 'em. "Look what you did to my board."
They all treaded water for a bit and then the pirate spluttered, "Ye mean, 'look what ye did to me craft!' A board is somethin' ye eat on, fer the love of saint Reuben and Jehoshaphat and all of the apostles!"
"Whatever, dude," said the surfer. He pushed a piece of fiber-glassed foam away in disgust.
After that they all came aboard and Hanna Blondtana had fun because the crew let her shoot the 50 caliber machine guns out front and the anti-aircraft weapons too. She sank a schooner and downed some guy that flew by in one of those ridiculous little ultra-light para-motors.
The crew slapped her raucously on the back as the tiny craft exploded into a bright ball of fire. It tore through the air above them, crossed their bow to larboard in a meteoric plume of smoke, plummeted down and, fshhhhd into the sea.
Hanna, batted about amidst laughter and bone-jarring congratulatory thwacks, watched her conquest sink beneath the waves. It was still bubbling smoke, when a thought occurred to her shrewd little mind. "Oh snap! that guy coulda saved me, maybe." Fer a fleet second the image of herself flying away into the clouds in the arms of a man wearing an orange helmet and rainbow parachute wings sizzled into a black oily stain on the surface of her hopes.
"Yo ho ho," she said dismally.
The pirates guffawed heartily in appreciation and lifted their flagons in a splashing good toast. "Arrrr Har Harrrr!" they shouted. They each slapped her a few more times.
Well, the pirate and the surfer dude began swappin' yarns, and the surfer dude, turns out he's related to Prince Caspian from Narnia.
"Arrr, what a place, that Narnia."
"For real."
"Ar, I once had me a pipe that was whittled from the broken arm of a mannequin from Narnia."
"For real?! I did too! And here it is."
And the blond surfer dude pulled an ornate wooden pipe from his waist band of his swimmin' trunks.
"Ne'er mind," said the pirate and 'e turned aside and wretched o'er the gunwale.