[Crazy Bacon Legs]

Some people asked me interesting questions about me and my past. Some examples:

“Lol Whut?”

“What is your problem?”

“Ha ha did yer mum drop you in the head when youwere a babey?”

Also some other stuff. I thought I would tell you about myself so that that you know more about me.

I was born on a pirate ship. No, this is not an attempt to invoke the childhood game of making another child stretch the sides of his mouth out and say the words, resulting in a hilarious parody of vulgarity. No, I was born on an actual pirate ship. They wore the skull and crossbone hats and had hooks and said “Yarr” a lot. Hollywood portrayals of pirates are remarkably accurate.

It was a big ship with over 60 crew and we pillaged the coasts of the Caribbean. I grew up surrounded by grisly death and wanton destruction. Mostly, we pirated music. They would take great pains to sneak their ship up to another (often under a false flag) and at the last moment, raise the Jolly Roger and wirelessly download all their MP3s. We would then flee to international waters, narrowly avoiding the Navy on several occasions. Frequently, I would tell them that this sort of pirating did not fall into the criminal realm and was simply a copyright matter, meaning all the violence was really quite unnecessary, and these reminders would often result in beatings. They did not want our lifestyle compromised.

Those ribald buccaneers provided me with some of my greatest memories. When I was twelve, the whole group took me to Disney Land. The outing was mostly magic and fun, and I even got to meet Mickey Mouse! That’s not something just forget. It truly changed me forever and I treasure the memories.

It was on my 17th birthday that my legs were accidentally Baconized™. This is a topic I will not spend much time on, as the trauma to my mind and body are simply too great. Also, the process is so technical and scientific that you would fail to grasp the intricacies and would likely end up less knowledgeable as a result. I would not do that to friends, any more than I would choose to forget meeting a beloved childhood mascot.

It was during a particularly bloody raid (an attempt to secure the entire back catalogue of the Oakridge Boys) that I decided simultaneously to (a) take up hockey and (b) go to law school. I could thus better learn the arts of causing other men physical pain and embarrassment in a social setting, as well as allowing me to get some exercise. Also, I like hockey a lot. I recently got a new stick and I may tell you about it some time.

I have since lost touch with the pirates. During hockey games I occasionally look, with a tear glistening in my eye, to the stands to see if some of me old mateys have come to watch me in me new sport of choice. Alas, no. I am alone out there, except for my teammates, the other team, and the referees. Occasionally the zamboni guy. And, of course, the indelible memories of a certain mouse greeting me while smiling and waving.

This is a good story. It has brought back memories of my upbringing I will never forget. I miss my pirate pals. Every now and then, I find myself standing on some lonely island, scanning the seas for the signs of a tall ship flying the flag of that skull that, to me at least, seems to be smiling. I do not see them. I will dream of the past, remembering the good times and bad. Lost in those distant times, I will sometimes hear a distant, ghostly “yar!”

I will spin excitedly, seeking my old friends and my old life, only to find it was just the wind.

It was always just the wind.