The year were 2011 and I joined the Navy for one reason alone — to get me vengeance on Le Fromage de Satan, and her scurvy master, Captain Jacques LaBung.
LaBung and his crew of plugged-up sea-dogs were known all along the Gold Coast — the north shore of the St. Lawrence. The bilge rats were infamous for their cruelty, their addiction to Quebec water-aged cheddar, and their malignant bowel obstructions.
Me own father had been a boson on Le Fromage de Satan; killed by LaBung for some minor offense. Arrr!
They Strapped him to the Wheel. This was the worst fate yer cheese pyrate could suffer, worse even than keel-haulin’. When yer underwater cheddar goes bad, that wheel of cheese is used as an anchor — or in the case of me Da’, he were strapped to it, and tossed over to be Mocked By the Belugas.
Down to Davy Jones he went, and I vowed me revenge. So now here I am, Ensign Jim Quinn, newly minted by His Majesty, and ready to take on the worst of Canada’s curdaneers.
Avast! There she be, heeling out from Baie des Ha! Ha! in full flight. But she’s no match for our frigate, the HMCS Shag Harbour.
And then, the milky whey of fate stepped in, and a fog bank came up to obscure our prey. We had to slow, and we thought we’d lose them, but then we heard them in the fog, laughing at us.
Our captain piled on, and the Shag she responded! We could hear their laughter above the roar of our engines, and then I noticed it in the water.
“Hard a larbord!” cries I, but too late. We hit the cheese-barrel dead-on; I was abaft, and so, were thrown overboard in the blast, not kilt outright.
The bow of the Shag were in flames, and then it began to sink, taking me crew with it. Me captain had been caught by one of the oldest tricks of yer Quebec curdaneer — the exploding cheese.
The flames went out as the Shag Harbour went down, and Le Fromage de Satan disappeared into the fog, the laughter of her pyrates mocking me, me Da, and those few brave seamen who’d survived the wreck.
Mocked me, they might have, but killed me they hadn’t, and vengeance would still be mine. I’ll see you in Davy’s yet, LaBung!
Tomorrow: The Revenge of the Crimson Parrots
Cheese and pirates– what a perfect combination. Thanks for sharing your tale of curdaneers. My day is much brighter now, what with the light of the exploding cheeses.
Arrr. I must get ready for Friday.
You should of used the cannonberts hehehe… I’m sorry, that was a terrible pun, I really shouldn’t of. I eagerly await the next installment.
Arrr…I almost forgot about Talk Like a Pirate Day. Glad I haven’t missed it.
Curses be them Belugas anyway…and bunghole.
Sweet baby cheeses! Feta is a cruel mistress indeed. You were lucky you weren’t torn limburger from limburger in the blast.
Keep those cheese puns coming folks!