Swank Report-photos

[Nephythys]

-and a picture (most) everyone here should appreciate- (corndog naughtiness)

Spoiler:

[Moonliner]

Excellent.

It looks like everyone had a great time.

Thanks for all the photos!



(except perhaps that last one....)

[~MS~]

AWESOME Pics!!!!!! I love seeing everyone having so much fun!

[Nephythys]

heh- I figured if anywhere was safe to post the last one it was here.

Shall I spoiler it LOL

[Kevy Baby]

I think somebody in this photo may have been drinking, but I am not sure. (Hint: I am not referring to NA.)

Originally Posted by Nephythys

[Snowflake]

Great pics!

[Cadaverous Pallor]

The corndog shot is hilarious - especially the reactions of Kevy, lindyhop, and Bornieo in the background.

[Capt Jack]

Originally Posted by Nephythys

I sooo want that shirt Commodore.
where'd ya find that?

(edit: the corndog looks awesome...what theyre doing to it....


uh....not so much. )

[Gn2Dlnd]

Arr, a Cursed Shirt it be, a Cursed Shirt with a story of adventure on the high seas.

Aye, it was a full moon on the bayou and the difference between an alligator and a rotting log was that they could both capsize you, but only one could eat you. I was sharin' a smallboat with 15 or so mostly strangers, each one havin' their own reasons for bein' set adrift from Lafitte's Landing. Considerin' my bad card habit, it was all I could do to protect the clothes on me back from my fellow outcasts, let alone bring back any of the amazing treasures what I seen. It wasn't as if I purposely went seekin' adventure and salty old pirates, mind you, but it's hard to resist a good sea chanty. Always been my weakness. Musicale, you might say I am. Once, on a "humanitarian" voyage to visit the children of the world I got a particular chanty so stuck in me head I eventually had to drink an entire bottle of barber's water to get rid of the damn song. If I remember rightly, the foul green liquid was made by a lubber named Mennen. Yer takes a swig off the bottle, and scream as loud as yer can, "BY MENNEN!," likes as ye'd say "By George," or "By Thunder." Arr, but one of many mysteries of the deep. But I digress, ye were askin' about the Cursed Shirt.

Returnin' from the Spanish Main I was, when I first laid eyes on the shirt. And sent into such a fit of greed, as well. Y'see, all through the trip, driftin' along in our little dinghy, mountains of treasure were just outside our reach. Ye'd drift right through a cave, doubloons and gold candlesticks and what have yer just packed to the rafters, and what do ye know, sittin' atop of the pile grinnin' his toothy grin? A skeleton of a poor pocket pickin' pirate left as a warning! It be true, mateys. When once one of our boatmates raised hisself up to clamber onto one of these islands o' treasure, a ghostly poundin' loud voice, thunderous and bouncin' off the cavern walls, boomed, "REMAIN SEATED PLEASE!," and then, mysterious like, "NO FLASH PICTURES!" Arr, that last bit was a mystery indeed, as none of us had brought our paintin' kits, and as for flashin', well, we may have been set adrift for various sins against our fellow man, but some of our crew were entire families, with children and grandmams and all. Lord knows the sin for bein' set adrift with yer grandmam. It makes ye think twice, it surely does.

Well, by the by, after seein' many acts of ruthlessness comitted not ten feet away from our tiny vessel, we found ourselves, through some witchery with which I'm not acquainted, shoved UP a waterfall, and we peacefully floated back into Lafitte's Landing, almost as though we were guided by the hand of God Hisself. Findin' myself unexpectedly thrust back inter society as I were, I went into the first shop I came to, determined to relieve the shopkeeper of the pieces of eight which he so brazenly advertised on the placard outside his shop. At this point, and I have no pride in tellin' ye this, I was overcome with remorse, rememberin' what had caused me to be set adrift in the first place, and I vowed to live a life of quiet honesty from that moment. As I was slightly damp from my journey, I chose a suitable tunic for purchase from the shopkeepers supply. But wait! Before bein' set adrift, I had already, at some cost, obtained a handsome vestment. This left me weighing the pros and cons of my new, honest life. I decided there was no turning back now. As me tummy was rumbling, I chose to use what gold I had left for eats and drink, yar, and maybe an available cabin boy, and return to yon shopkeep with honest funds another time. How was I to know that by then, it would be too late? Too late, I says! When I returned but one week later, the shirt had been replaced with a copy of enormous girth! I had no need of a new sail as I had sworn off the sea forever. Besides which, my new friend Ted Mann, the shopkeeper in whose shop I had decided but one week before to change my life, told me, in no uncertain terms, "Ted Mann sells no sails."

Now, ye may be askin' yerself, what is it about this particular shirt that put me in such a fever. Ah, the color of blue that it be. When I thinks back to me childhood, I remember a staircase, curved and gorgeous it were, leading up to a fancy restaurant where fine ladies and fancy gentlemen would eat, drink, and legend has it, talk to animal heads mounted on the walls! Bosh, ye say, and I wouldn't blame ye, but for what I saw on my journey through the Caribbean. If a man tells me he talked to a buffalo head on a wall, or that a great green sea turtle struck up a conversation with his child, who am I to doubt him? Yar, this beautiful staircase, in the Courtyard of Angels, were painted the same shade of blue as me dear mother's eyes. Come to think of it, as me dear mother sat in her chair that winter, out in the snow, her whole body was that shade of blue. The house was so much quieter with her outside. And the card games so much fairer. Ah, but now ye've got me talkin' about past sins and what got me set adrift in the first place, and I says, let bygone be bygones. This color of blue, ye may be picturing it right now this very moment, made me believe that the seamstress clever enough to use such a color, might also have put a protective curse on the shirt, and, after my return, I felt a need for just such protection.

A fortnight passed. No shirt. A fitnight. A sixtnight, a septnight, then an eightnight. Every visit to Ted's shop left me bereft. Bereft and barechested as I had lost my only other shirt in a card game. After three months of fortnights, or a "twentyfourtnight," had passed, Ted received a crate from the Orient. In the bottom of the crate was a small package marked, "from Mother." When Ted unwrapped it, lo and behold, there was me shirt!

As for the curse, so I was right! Seen in the light of a full moon, a skull and crossbones appears on the chest of the shirt, marking me as one who has seen the cursed treasure and survived, thereby protectin' me from bands of rovin' pirates and and their compatriot ruthless pastry salesmen, the dreaded "Churrascarias."

Take heed friends, the sea plays funny tricks on yer mind. If'n ye see the bauble ye desire, leave it for another time at yer own peril. Ye may hear voices sayin' pretty words such as, "backorder," and "next shipment." Mere hallucinations.

I was lucky, mother did, after all, lose that card game, and she owed me.

[Capt Jack]

*standing ovation*

bravo. a tale told with the expertness true to a pirate spirit.

kudos!
mojos!
kujos!
(well,ok, maybe not that last one)