“Polly was a pirate,” Polly squawked.
“Polly is a parrot, you stupid bird!” corrected Captain Blackheart.
“Polly is a pirate, wharrhhck! Pieces of eight!”
The captain sighed. He’d been sold a dodgy cockatoo. This one clearly had mental issues.
He’d enough problems with the light-fingered cabin boy, without listening to Polly’s deranged nattering. The cabin boy had been hauled over the keel for his thievery and was currently recovering in the sickbay, so Blackheart was forced to fetch his own dinner.
“Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,” chimed Polly, uncorking the Captain’s rum decanter and pouring himself another liberal measure.