The Devil Doth Love a Pirate

Somewhere in the depths of the debris and general crap crowding my porch, hides a magical pirate sword. Or, not magical excactly. Cheap is the right word. Bought at Savers, or The Dollar Store, or maybe a garage sale, and doubtless painted with lead paint. Or mercury. Anyway, it’s one of those toys that little boys love and moms hate because with every move, it mimics the metallic sound of metal sliding against metal. The clash of swords, the thrill of the swashbuckler, and we are suddenly transformed into Jack Sparrow or Blackbeard or Anne Bonney, or Edward Lowe.

Except, we can’t find the sword. And if it’s underneath the pile of soccer shoes or roller skates, if its buried in the wood pile or the heaped packaging from our new windows that I just haven’t taken out yet, I have no idea. What I do know is that every time we walk in the door, we are greeted with a clash of swords. Whether I’m holding the groceries or the mail or a sleeping kid, I come home to the slice of blade upon blade. “Avast!” I cry. “We meet at last, Blackbeard!” And in my swashbuckling, pirate soul, I’m not making dinner or cleaning up dog vomit. I’m on the high seas, fighting to the death.

And that, I swear, is the real reason why I haven’t cleaned my porch.

What say you?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s