Queen of Pirate Island

Going on a cruise to Pirate Island where women rule. The men have been taken prisoner where they eat gruel. They are looking for a pirate queen, a strong minded wench. I speak Spanish, and I eat my toast and fries in French. Pirate Island is just around the next bend, matey. I am glad I finally get to go, before I’m eighty. There are banners all over that shout out women’s names. I tear them down as soon as we land. Not playing their games. The women are wearing black patches and wooden pegs. I scoff at their lack of imagination which are in the dregs. I jump out of the boat with my knife and machete. Challenging them all because I am ripe, and I’m ready. There is screaming and shouting and they begin to run hard. I start singing my praises, in songs, for I am a ridiculous bard. The men yell out of their cages that they think I should be queen. I throw buckets of tar on them to show them I can be truly mean. My trusty dragon steed Chester begins twirling up the beach on the sand. My female relatives begin playing jazz, sounding like a mariachi band. Pretty soon the other women throw their banners into the sea. The uncontested evil queen of Pirate Island is once again me.