Arrrr, Matey

The Buccaneer offers good time pirate fun, and a lesson in rejection

"Sooo," I joked, "how about that women's music festival?"

Sammy, my new pal, turned to me and laid the meanest glare on me I have ever received. Jordan joined in as if I were pathetic.

"Look," said Sammy, "I just want to have a drink before we eat dinner. I don't need this shit."

Whoa.

"Let's move over there," said Jordan, getting up and grabbing her purse for her. Yep, grab the purse before the lesbian mistakes it for a big, gaping vagina. Normally times like this would call for a rousing "Fuck you, dickhead!" but I sat motionless, still shocked. Rejected, big time. All those rejection molecules that had been in that place waiting for me must have swirled up when I walked in, creating a funnel cloud of rebuff that engulfed me as I sat down. A real buccaneer would have never stood for such a thing.

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