Cotton's tale

Disclaimer (added 07/10-05): It's not mine, I don't own it. All I can claim is my own writing, but Mr Cotton doesn't belong to me.

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Now, I jest want to begin with, before I'm accused and called a lot of ugly things, say that it's not nice gettin' yer tongue cut out, and it's not nice knowin' ye did a shit load of work for nuttin', right?

So let me start this then.

It was a nice sunny day in the beginning of...June, me thinks. At least it was as warm as in hell, and the whores was nastier then usual.

I know what yer thinkin'.

And ye know what? Yer right.

It was probably sometime May.

Anyway.

I was mindin' my own business, as I usually did when I get off the ship after weeks o' no womenfolk, wanting te get myself some lace - if ye know what I'm coming at.

Now, I was just walkin' in the beautiful sunlight, happy to be young 'n' alive, thinkin' how nice a pair of women legs would feel wrapped around me waist. Preferable two of those fine ones, that feel as they've been carved by a master sculptor to fit 'round me waist just perfect.

Now, 'nuff 'bout that.

I was as I said doin' nuttin' in particular, preparing meself te part from some of me gold. A bottle o' rum, and somethin' warm, remotely women was what I had in mind. If that could be translated into nothin', not too sure 'bout that really.

Anyway, I notice that really nice looking lass, lookin' through this shop window. She seemed te come from a "respectable family". If there really are any o' those. When ye lived as long as I have now ye know the "respectable families" are the biggest criminals. Wolves in sheep costumes, so to say.

Now, where were I?

Yes, she was looking at this neckless, lying at display in the window. I meself was in seventh heaven due to the beautiful view I was getting. Ye see, she was bending over, quite the lot, looking through the window. She had one of those behinds any man would kill to get 'is hands on, and her ankles.

Let me not begin te talk about the ankles.

You see, I got this thing fer ankles.

Her's was breathtaking. Slim, bot tot too thin, attached to what I could see from where I was standin', two pretty lookin' legs.

So I walked up to the lass, standin' next te her, admiring the neckless, watchin' the sun reflect in it's golden surface. And then and there I got this amazing idea of how to lure this pretty being into bed with me.

"Want me te preform a magic trick, lassie?" I asked, with all that charm a health youth can bring forward in a situation like that.

She smiled and nodded all excited like at me, couldn' be more then fifteen that lass.

Large brown eyes, I think a shade lighter then Cap'n's boots. Brown hair in perfect corkscrews around that pretty heart shaped face of her's.

"Now, darlin', shut yer eyes, and turn yer face towards that large golden sun, and think of somethin' equally golden an' pretty ye like to have 'round yer neck."

She of course complied with out too much fuss, after all, the lass was pretty much sold fer that neckless, I could see from the look on her face. Yes, I've always been pretty good with reading faces, one o' my special traits so te say.

Not a moment too soon did she turn that pretty face towards the sun, I quickly entered an' left the shop with said neckless, putting it in me pocket. Takin' her hand in mine, drggin' her off to somewhere not in front of the jewellery store.

"It didn't work." he said, for the first time opening her mouth. I could hear from her accent she was clearly overclass.

"It didn', did it?" I said, giving my best shoot at looking blue. "But we could try it again, can't we?" I asked, sneaking as much charm into my voice as I dared.

She sighed, nodded and closed her eyes, once again looking at the sun.

This time though I put the neckless 'round that pretty white an' slim neck o' her's.

'Course she she let o' that happy kind o' squeal women do when ye give 'em gifts, throwing her arms 'round me neck, kissing me cheeks.

It is a given we spent that day together, me showing her all secrets o' low town, introducing her to a few beverages no one that young should even have heard o'.

That evening I was, as predicted, smuggled into the young lassies bed chamber.

What can I say? The charm o' youth, she obviously wanted some rough fun.

That night I took her to a place she from now on only visits in her more...pleasant dreams.

Wha' makes this one o' my less...enjoyable memories ain't that night.

Honestly, it was an evenin' an' night well spent. A fresh tulip, untouched for me to break, discover places no man would see for years yet.

Later learnt she was fourteen, set off to marry some English Lord. She should be happy I was the one doin' the breaking. I've heard those Lords know nothin' o' what should be done in the bed chamber, chattering about politics an' no play.

Now back to the story.

That morning I was found by the lady o' the house in a rather questionable position.

That is, placed below her daughter, who's rocking back an' forth, moanin' 'n' gaspin'.

Now, remember wha' I said aboutds ads and their bedside manners, so don't look shocked when I tell ye what she then said.

"Move over girl, take care of yourself." while she stripped down into nothin'.

So there I was, hard as a rock with not one, but two equally horny ladies. I'm not complainin' really.

So helpin' young miss of me, lettin' the misses lay down on the bed, an' helpin' me self inside her body I once again notice how right I am about Lords an' their bedside fashion.

Either he was a very small man, or I was a big one, or he enjoyed boring his wife with politics. 'Cause this lady was as tight as a virgin.

As my plan was takin' it slow, and it was obvious not her plan we shifted position, and as we came in union we were interrupted.

This time by the Lord in this drama. There's always an evil Lord in every play, right?

I hadn't really caught the Lady's name, so it was the daughters I called, which o' course made the already mad Lord even more...mad.

So this ended up with a young child trying to explain how she ended up where she was, how I ended up there as well, and how her jealous mother had ended up where she was found.

Now me an' the Lady tried to get a say in this as well, but we were too flustered to speak as it were.

Well, try it yerselves and see how easy it is te please two sexually frustrated women in one night!

So it all ended up back at the neckless I acquired from the shop earlier.

"How did you come across this, thief." he asked. Nasty voice he had, this evil Lord.

"I ain't no thief, Sir." I said "Magicked it I did, didn't I?" I asked the girl.

She nodded, trying to explain how and where she got it, nowhere close to the jeweller's shop that is. Felt proud o' meself I did, coming up with such a good plan.

Well, it would have been a good plan, if this Lord hadn' known it had been stolen, as he somehow knew.

"Mister...?" he begun, and I quickly added "Cotton." he nodded once.

"Mister Cotton, I will personally remove your lying tongue."

"No, father!" the girl yelled, who's lower parts been subject to my excellent tongue.

O' course there was no changin' this stubborn man's mind once it set.

Got me tongue removed in a matter o' hours, didn't even get to keep it.

He probably keep all tongues he cut out o' poor unsuspecting men's mouths as trophies some place.

Sick is what it is.

Maybe that's why they bore their wives, making them full o' frustration over a non-working sex life.

That's just me speculatin', but it does make sense.

***

A man without a tongue is in fact no man, as a man is nothin' without the ability to speak (and preforming cunnilingus, but that's really no helpin' that loss).

The speech difficulties was rather easy to overcome, "Teach a parrot to speak for you, mister Cotton.", that stuck up English Lord had said.

So that was what I decided to do.

It's not a strange sight ye know, a pirate with a parrot. So I got meself one.

Now there was the difficulty to teach it to speak for me, but a crafty, stubborn man as I fancy myself te be I had no problem with it.

Found this ol' nun who out o' pity took me in an' taught me how te become a rather skilfully ventriloquist.

Now all I had te do was teach that damned bird how te speak.

After a few weeks it knew how te recite the Pirate's code, and a few basic sea terms.

I noticed it was particularly found of "Dead men tell no tales." and "Wind in the sails, wind in the sails."

So I decided that was "No" and "Yes", this because that bird was too stupid te learn short words.

When I after a long couple o' months decided I was finished, it o' course struck me that my work had been for nothin'.

I was a ventriloquist, I could speak myself!

By then I was too found of the bird, and too stubborn to take a down. So I decided not to mention I could talk an' let the bird do all the talkin', as that was after all what I purchased it for.

I didn't suffer from not ever speakin' again.

I had taught it to say "Yo Ho Ho And a bottle of rum" so at least I never went thirsty.