2 The Lampost Auctioneers and the Dejected Pirate (2)

"Good day, good sir," she chirped in as cheerful a voice as she could manage while still being salty over the ship fiasco.

"Good day? The sun may be shining and the clouds may be gone, but today is anything but a good day," replied the pirate with a long look.

"Who rained on your parade?" went Polly.

"I shouldn't bother such a pleasant person as you with my tale," sighed the pirate. He cast a forlorn gaze towards the sea and it really would have been quite an aesthetic moment for a picture taker.

"Oh, well then, um, sea you later?" replied Polly who began turning away.

"Alas, it was just this morning when I was a younger man and had not a clue what evils would befall me," started the pirate.

Coincidentally there was a bench which Polly sat herself down on and a stage which the pirate leaped onto.

"I was planning to sell my pride and joy, The Birbalinda, when I was besieged by a couple of hoodlums. Now, they weren't your everyday kind of hoodlums, I say. No, not at all. They wore long sweeping gowns that honestly should've collected dirt at their trains since they first stepped out onto the streets, and they all had hair styled in bowl cuts so exact you could've used them to mold bowls. They had approached me with looks of fake kindness, though I didn't know just how fake those looks were at that time, mind you, and convinced me to take a cup of tea with them. Now, I thought that was strange 'cause three finely dressed lasses don't go about asking an old lump of seaweed like me out to tea without an ulterior motive, no siree. I went anyway 'cause I was thirsty and they offered to pay anyways. Who turns down an offer like that? Well, I should've."

"Anyway, I walk with those three to where of all places? None other than The Good Croissant itself. You know that place? Their croissants are so fine rumor has it King Rightbread of Sea-Island 6 once hosted his annual Convention there. But their tea is the stuff of nightmares. I knew they weren't normal when they offered me tea and took me to practically the worst place to get tea there could be. Now we go there and sit at a booth, and they order four cups of tea and four plates of croissants, just as it should be. I swallow up the croissant just as fast as one would expect, but when it comes to the tea, well, I just couldn't." He took a breath before continuing.

"The ladies were sipping their tea as if it was actually drinkable and leering at me with their cold eyes. They spoke among themselves in a terrible language that I could not understand than laughed at me. Now if there's anything I hate more than the tea from The Good Croissant, it's being laughed at. So in a moment of pure rashness, I tip the entire cup into my mouth. First things first, the taste was every bit as horrendous as I remembered it. Second things second, it was drugged. I felt myself getting woozy, and as I crashed onto the table, I saw those snickering no-gooders strutting out. When I came to my senses, I learned that I was only M.I.A for six minutes, thank goodness, but being missing in action at all is no good. I hurry out to see if I can see what those vagabonds did, and lo behold, The Birbalinda was gone! Since then, I've been wandering 'round this market feeling down."

Somehow a crowd had gathered and when the pirate had finished his tale, there was a round of standing ovation, with even a few calling for an encore. The pirate, who had been lost reminiscing looked almost lively for a moment until the recollection of what his story was about sent him back to the blues all over again. He gave a polite bow to his audience as they slowly dispersed, and Polly's bench and the pirate's stage vanished as well. Farmers Markets could be strange at times.

"If you loved The Birbalinda so much, then why did you want to sell her? Polly asked.

"Well, after 4 years of sea-faring and looting, I've decided pirating just wasn't for me. The Birbalinda did me many a good, and I couldn't bear to let her rot, so I figured I'd sell her to someone who would do her well."

Then, Polly had a thought.

"If I help you find your ship, can I have it?"

The pirate thought for a moment and stroked his beard.

"Well, I don't see why not."

Polly struck a pose in the direction of the ocean, with a heroic look plastered on her face and a hand on her hip. Just in time too, for as the pirate was applauding her modeling talent, he caught a glimpse of what was none other than The Birbalinda preparing to set sail with three ladies boasting blonde, chestnut, and fiery red bowl cuts on its deck behind an unnaturally tall and lean man and woman.

Polly released a wrath filled scream that snapped tent poles and sent wooden crates quaking. The pirate followed suit and bellowed making such a powerful sound that the sound waves filled the sails of The Birbalinda and the ship started inching away from the docks. He muttered a few improper words upon seeing that his war cry did not have the desired effect.

Without wasting another moment, he and Polly made a dead sprint to the docks and swung themselves onto the first boat they saw. It wasn't big, it wasn't new, and it was in far from good condition, but the two were in such a frenzy they paid no heed to those details. The pirate seemed to have returned to the master of the seas he once was and had the craft ready to sail in record time.

As wind filled their sails, the chase for The Birbalinda was on.