Pirate Dave and his Randy Adventures

by Robyn Peterman

  “It’s your turn now,” Pirate Dave bellowed. “You will make the problem with my pork sword go away. Now!”

  The troll peered over at Pirate Dave. He was ridiculously handsome in a big, macho, hairy, smelly way. The troll, not one to welsh on a bargain, giggled and turned to the left three times, hopped on his right foot, then his left. Lightning split the sky and a huge wind whipped viciously across the deck of the ship. Three deckhands were blown to sea, never to be heard from again. Pirate Dave didn’t care, he just wanted freedom from his ding-dong. He was tired of his life being dictated by the randy desires of his love muscle.

  “It is done!” the little troll screamed, laughing maniacally.

  Pirate Dave realized the obscene pressure between his manly hairy thighs was gone. A huge grin split his face. His life was his own again. He was free to pork only when desire dictated!

  He looked down at his lack of erection and froze. Icy fear ripped through his body, causing temporary paralysis, and he screamed like a little girl. He no longer had a hard-on . . . because he no longer had a penis.

  Chapter Eleven

  Of course, Laverne’s plan to off Dave and Shirley at the Bingo Tournament was foiled by Calico Andy the Mind Reader. When he threatened to tattle unless she put out, she tied his peter in a knot. Literally. Andy had to have some major surgery to right his peepee. He decided Laverne was far more trouble than it was worth and he decided to stick to his left hand.

  Ironically it wouldn’t have worked anyway. Dave didn’t attend the tournament. No one had seen Pirate Dave since the bizarre troll visit. Rumors were flying, but nobody had the real skinny. The ship was being repeatedly attacked by dumbasses who interpreted Dave’s dickless state to mean he had gone insane and was incapable of leading his crew.

  Of course, his new obsession with ordering products off the internet in between throwing tantrums while playing Scrabble with Poseidon weren’t helping his reputation.

  Pirate Dave hid in his cabin for a week. Occasionally it took that long for body parts to grow back. If he ever got his bare hands on that fucking troll, he’d rip his ’nads off. He knew it had gotten around that he was dick-less. Fourteen rival pirates had tried to steal his ship and treasure. One sneaky son of a bitch had absconded with Shirley, only to bring her back three days later because her voice had ruptured his eardrums.

  He slathered some Burt’s Butt Cream under his eyes. He’s gotten a great deal on thirteen and a quarter cases on-line. He’d heard it was helpful for puffiness. He didn’t enjoy the odor, so he doused himself with Scrubby Clean laundry detergent, also a deal. That turned out to be a bad fucking idea. It burned like a motherfucker when he got it in his eye, but after flushing it out with Aquaman Water, he felt better. So much better, he decided to treat himself to Taco Yo Mama and a Stanley’s Junglejuice.

  Rumor of Laverne’s heroics made him wish he had a schlong again. She had singlehandedly beaten the living hell out of his entire crew and all fourteen pirates who had tried to commandeer what was rightfully his. He suspected she’d handed Shirley over without much fight. Those bitches hated each other.

  When his Johnson reappeared, he would definitely hump Laverne and then he would take her to Smiley Pete’s Weenie Shack or possibly Harry’s Hotdogs or Jimmy’s House of Fried Cheese or maybe even Cyndy’s Cylindrical Meat Sausage Shop. She deserved a nice night out on the town.

  Pirate Dave doubled over in pain. The area where his love muscle used to reside was burning and itching like a bad case of VD. “What is happening?” he bellowed, knocking over his Mindbendo gaming system in a frantic search for more bottled water, perhaps Aquawoman.

  The magic of vampire regeneration overtook him. His body dropped to the floor and he was unable to move. The only relief he had was the use of his thick hairy neck. This gift gave him the power to watch the miraculous miracle that was about to happen.

  Right before his not so puffy eyes, his divine rod began to grow back. Boy, he’d love to see the look on that troll’s face now. No one fucks with Pirate Dave’s pork sword. He watched with pride as his main vein grew back even larger than before! He smiled and winked at his pickle, his long-lost friend . . . But wait, what the hell was going on? Something was very, very wrong. He vaguely remembered reading about this in vampire school, but that was three hundred fucking years ago. This could not be happening!

  Pirate Dave screamed in anguish, “Nooooooooo.”

  But no matter how much he cried like a girl, shit still happened. Pirate Dave was not blessed with one tallywhacker . . . oh no, he was blessed with two. Two raging, erect ding-dongs. What in the hell was he supposed to do with two rock hard skin flutes? He didn’t know any women with two vaginas . . . but wait, maybe he did.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Back hair is not a big turn on for me, but a painful waxing scene in my novel would be hot,” Mother Nature bubbled, her eyes shining bright with what some might mistake for insanity. “I shall create an entire city of rubber people. All entirely made from condoms. That shall be my nod to safe sex! Three of them will be vampires, three will be mole shifters, three warlocks, three zombies, three social workers, three giants and the rest will be midgets. I will lay out a world ripe for romance!”

  “Do you smoke crack?” the voice asked in disgust.

  “No. Why?” Mother Nature’s eyes narrowed.

  “No reason,” the voice cooed. “I came across an armless gypsy gremlin and she found the ship on the ocean for twenty-two dollars and fifty-six cents. She is far smarter than you.”

  “I beg to differ, you old over-botoxed hag. I have over eight hundred thousand dollars of your money in a Swiss bank account,” Mother Nature giggled. “Who you calling dumb?”

  “Damn it,” the voice hissed. “You are a horrible person.”

  “No worse than you and I’m much more attractive! Plus, I haven’t spent my immortality trying to kill two people I barely know.”

  “Oh, trust me I know . . . whatever, Mother Napels,” the voice snapped. “You’ve been worthless to me.”

  “Alright fine. And the name is Nature you imbecile. I do have a bit of news that might be helpful . . . ”

  The voice eyed her from her darkened corner. Mother Nature looked away. There were days when looking at a train wreck just didn’t appeal.

  “Pirate Dave has double the pleasure in his pants,” Mother Nature giggled.

  “And that’s supposed to help me how?”

  Mother Nature smirked and examined her manicure. “I just thought someone as cavernous as you’re rumored to be might find a man sporting two privates interesting.

  “I have no idea what you are referring to,” the voice glared with burning, reproachful and permanently open eyes.

  “Oh please, it’s no secret that your feminine section is rather, um . . . largish. I just thought you might want to think twice about destroying the entire ship. You might find quite a few uses for Pirate Dave and his deformity,” Mother Nature said.

  “Well, well, well, Mother Noodles, you may have earned your eight hundred thousand after all,” the voice cackled evilly. “Yesssssss, this is turning out to be a very fine day indeed.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pirate Dave stared at the hat full of assholes and wondered who had sent him such a lovely and unusual gift. He considered trying to fuck them, but since they weren’t attached to anything, he decided against it.

  Apparently he had a secret admirer.

  He’d received daily gifts for a week, but none as glorious as the hat full of assholes. He was impressed and moved. Shirley was fit to be tied. She’d tried to tempt him away from thoughts of his admirer by swinging naked from the chandelier in the galley. Bad fucking move on Shirley’s part. During her buck-ass naked extravaganza, she’d accidentally blinded six crew members standing nearby when she gouged their eyes out with her toe.

  Her lack of remorse was a huge turn-on for Pirate Dave, but alas, she only had one vagina. Pirate Dave ripped open a box of Salty
Skeeboodles and shoved them in his mouth. Thank God for the internet. Food in 1492 sucked. Through his Warlock magic he was able to order delicious delicacies from the future. He left the crumbs from his snack embedded in his chest fur. Lice needed to eat, too.

  “Great Poseidon’s Asswaffles!” he choked out.

  He panicked as he looked down at his expanding stomach and realized he couldn’t see his peckers anymore. His inability to find a fuck buddy with two lady holes had led him to eat. A lot. He cared not that his once nicely indented hairy ass had turned as flabby as Poseidon’s.

  Feeling nauseous and horny, Pirate Dave formed a plan. He would stay awake until he caught his secret admirer. Anyone thoughtful enough to leave him a hat full of assholes deserved a garlic press. He gotten a case for eleven dollars and ninety-two cents. He hunkered down and waited.

  A nasty storm brewed on the horizon. The wind whistled ominously and blinding streaks of lightning ripped through the sky, tearing the darkness apart like a go-cart at a monster truck rally. The ship tossed and turned, causing Dave’s triple bacon cheeseburger, onion rings, and fish sandwich to threaten a reappearance.

  “Goddamnit,” Pirate Dave railed against the howling gale, “I hate getting wet.”

  Pirate Dave’s head drooped and his shoulders sagged, for Dave had become too fat to fit through the cabin doors. He’d been relegated to living on the deck, becoming one with the motherfucking elements.

  If only that shit-ass little troll hadn’t lopped his wanker off, none of this would have happened. He’d be happily porking Shirley. A ball-gag, duct tape and lock jaw had solved the voice problem. He really did love her as long as she didn’t speak, but . . . Laverne had given him a boner numerous times, too. Her violent murderous streak made his Johnsons stand at attention. What to do . . .

  The storm picked up and Pirate Dave realized the rain might shrink his ass-less leather chaps. He loved his leather chaps. They’d become slightly uncomfortable due to his double cocks, but his vanity overruled his comfort. Of course his recent hundred-pound weight gain didn’t help, but that wasn’t his fault. It was the fault of the formerly blind, stupid, fucktard troll.

  He looked down at his wrists and shook his head in disgust. Calico Andy had lost the key to the furry handcuffs and now he was stuck wearing pink fur and metal until someone could saw it off without removing his hands.

  He tightened his braided leather vest. He was so glad it kind of still fit. He needed the support for his new man-boobs. He decided to shave his chest and pubic area. Of course not being able to see his scrotum made this a dangerous venture, but Dave liked living on the edge.

  He searched the deck for a razor. Unfortunately the only razor he could find was dull and rusty . . . .Oh well, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.

  He raised the razor to the Heavens for that fat bastard, Poseidon’s blessing. Closing his eyes, he brought the razor down to his . . .

  “What in the hell are you doing?” Laverne asked, scaring the crap out of Dave.

  “Ahhh, Laverne,” he squeaked and tried to suck in his enormous gut. “I was preparing to shave my scrotum. Would you care to join me?”

  “Um, no. But since you can’t exactly see your scrotie, aren’t you a tad bit concerned?” she asked logically.

  “You detect a problem?” Dave was confused.

  “Well, yeah. If you mistakenly lop off your love-shafts, four more will grow back.” Laverne rolled her eyes. It constantly amazed her that someone as good looking as Pirate Dave could be so fucking stupid.

  “Chances are I’d only remove one,” Dave explained.

  “Then you’d have three.”

  “How’s that?” he asked.

  “If you accidentally cut both of them off four more will grow back. But if you only cut one off, two will grow back leaving you with three.”

  Dave was silent for two minutes and thirty-one seconds. “Sweet Saint Peter in crotchless panties! You’re right! Laverne you have saved me from growing a gaggle of flesh trombones!” Pirate Dave shouted joyously. “For that, you will be rewarded! What would you like?”

  Laverne smiled, “Oh, I can think of a couple of things . . . ”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dave was fucking depressed. He needed some guy time . . . Perhaps some breeches shopping or simply getting shit-faced and making some prank phone calls to Poseidon. He thought through his crew and decided on Hairy Sam. Yep, he and Hairy Sam would cut loose.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Hairy Sam squealed. He wrung his hands in terror and glee.

  “It’s going to be great!” Pirate Dave shouted. “I just know we can punk him. He’s such a stupid twatwaffle!”

  “Are you positive he won’t know it’s us?” Sam asked, pulling out clumps of chest hair in his nervousness.

  “Of course not!” Dave bellowed with confidence. “I’m on a cell phone!”

  Hairy Sam blanched. “But what about Caller I . . . ”

  “Shhhh!” Dave interrupted. “It’s ringing!”

  Dave had been friends with Hairy Sam forever. Literally. Sam’s stench made Pirate Dave smell like a flower. Sam was covered in hair from head to toe, hence the name. He’d tried shaving and waxing and electrolysis, but to no avail. He’d even tried burning it off. That had certainly been a bad fucking idea. The hair grew back within minutes, thicker and coarser than before.

  The pungent gentlemen enjoyed the game called Fucking with the Future. It was a highlight in both of their immortal lives. Between ravaging large-breasted virgins who pretended they were appalled by sex, stealing treasures, and eating box after box of Shaft Macaroni and Cheese, they enjoyed traveling to the future and messing with undereducated Americans’ heads. Especially ones who were married to other family members.

  Pirate Dave and Hairy Sam found it amusing to time-travel to the Pacific Northwest or the deep South anywhere between the 1960s and the early 2000s to perpetuate the Bigfoot myth. It wasn’t exactly a myth, for Hairy Sam’s feet were huge. His shoes were a size twenty-four, matching his doinker to the inch.

  Often times Hairy Sam tried to get laid, but usually ended up masturbating in the corner of freaked-out women’s bedrooms. Pirate Dave thought this was hilarious. Sam hadn’t gotten any in over two hundred years.

  “Hello?” Poseidon’s voice boomed through Dave’s cell.

  “Um, yes . . . hello,” Dave said in a high pitched, barely disguised voice. “Could you hang on for a second?” Dave slapped his hand over the mouth piece. “Holy shit, I didn’t think he would pick up! Which one should I do?” Dave squeaked, hopping up and down in a panic.

  “Well,” Hairy Sam, sweating like a pig, pondered. “There’s Prince Albert in a can . . . ”

  “No, that’s assmonkeyish.”

  “Right,” Sam agreed. “Refrigerator running? . . . No. What about calling him a gir . . . ”

  “Stop man,” Dave shouted. “Don’t even say that horrid word!”

  “You’re right, Captain. My apologies. What about Mike Hunt?”

  “What’s Mike Hunt?” Pirate Dave asked in confusion.

  “You don’t know Mike Hunt?” Sam asked.

  “No, I don’t know Mike Hunt! Why should I know Mike Hunt? Now come up with something! That big fat turd-knocker is waiting!” Dave bellowed.

  “How about Al?” Sam suggested.

  “Perfect,” Dave grinned. “Um . . . Hi Poseidon, this is Al.”

  “Al who?”

  “Al Jacques Yuoff!” Dave snorted, desperately trying not to laugh as Hairy Sam rocked back and forth giggling.

  “Al Jacques Yuoff?” Poseidon boomed.

  “You’ll jack me off? Thanks you fat bastard!” Dave shrieked and hung up quickly.

  Dave and Sam ran around the deck screaming and giggling till Dave’s weight put a violent end to their aerobic glee. He lost his balance and slid across the deck, knocking two unsuspecting mates to sea. Normally this would not be an issue, as most pirates can swim . . . but it
was Mermaid feeding time. Those poor bastards didn’t have a chance.“Whoops,” a puffy and crimson face Dave sputtered. “Didn’t really mean for that to happen.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Sam consoled him. “They shouldn’t have been standing there! Should we do Ima?” Hairy Sam inquired, easing Dave to a seated position before he passed out or killed more of the crew.

  “Outstanding idea!”

  Dave hit the redial button on his phone and waited.

  “Hello?” a wary Poseidon bellowed.

  In the most feminine voice Dave could muster, very similar to Harvey Fierstein with a cold, he said, “Hi Poseidon, this is Ima.”

  “Ima who?” Poseidon demanded.

  “Ima Poussay!”

  “Ima Poussay?” the God asked.

  “That’s right, you’re a pussy! You fat, cheating, porcine dickweed, mother fucker!” Dave screamed and quickly disconnected.

  Sam stood motionless in a state of utter shock.

  “What?” Dave queried of his partner in crime.

  “Um, nothing, “ Sam whispered, moving stealthily away from Dave.

  “Seriously, dude, what’s your problem?” Dave demanded.

  “You don’t think the part at the end might have given us, you know . . . away?” Sam muttered over his shoulder as he tried to put more distance between himself and his best friend.

  “Of course not,” Dave bellowed with confidence. “That fat, package-less, cock-sucker is too . . . ”

  Dave was slammed to the deck when a well aimed bolt of lightning shot straight up his ass.

  “Motherhooterpissmonkeyshitballeaterassballs!” Dave whined as he slapped his ass to put out the fire. “I’ll get you!” Dave yelled to the sky. “THIS is not over, you fruity fuck!”

  “Are you okay, Captain?” a pale and shaken Hairy Sam asked.