The Adventures of Bode and Remy Part Two

Aye matie!

        I am a wild one! Going crazy! Swabbin’ the decks and spyin’ out teh crow’s nest, boy.

What are you doing? Why are you talking like that? We are writing to our boy. Show some respect!

Argh! I’m a pirate now!

No, no. Just no. You are not a pirate. You are a brat. There’s a difference.

Argh! No brats on this ship! I got me skull and bones. Mostly bones. Wiff peanut butter inside.

I didn’t know pirates ate peanut butter.

Aye, that they do. Wiff teh bones.

Ok, this is ridiculous. You are not a pirate. Now let’s tell our boy what’s been going on. Dear boy, you will be happy to know that on watch last night, I cornered a squirrel –

Argh! That fookin’ skwerl! Almost had him, I did.

Yes, I was getting to that. So, I had him cornered. Er, well that is to say, I had him stuck in the tree –

Treenered!

That isn’t even a word, Remy.

No remy! you landlubber! Call me cap’n crunch!

I am not calling you Cap’n Crunch. You aren’t a pirate. Besides, that name has already been taken.

… captain cave man! Captain caaaaaaaaaaaaaave maaaaaaan!!!

        NO.

        Captain jean-luc picard?

        I am impressed you could say that, but no.

        Captain America? Captain fantastic? Captain marvel?

        No, no and no.

        Sir remalot, master of all he surveys and conquerer of all teh sweet lassies in teh green fields over yonder?

        Sir Remalot? I thought you were a pirate? That’s a knight’s name. As for the lassies, you better not be referring to Bella.

        Aye, mate. Tis true. We’re in lurve.

        You are not in love. She could not love you. I have been slowly wooing her for the past three years.

        Aye, if you call whimpering sadly at teh sound of her name with yer tail between yer legs “wooing”, then aye. She’s “wooed.”

        Quiet, you. She’s a work in progress.

        Aye, progressively working her way to me, that is.

        Will you hush? Look at this?! We’re supposed to be writing the boy, encouraging him to greatness. And instead you’ve wasted all the paper with this nonsense. We only have a bit left!

        Argh, me boy! Tis me , sir remalot, master of all he surveys and conquerer of wee bonnie lassies in teh green fields over teh rainbow by me pot o’ gold!

        Did you just go Irish? Sigh. Dear boy, we love you and miss you. Nothing has changed while you’ve been gone. We will be right here when you get back.

                                                    Many licks,

                                                        Bode

                                                  And sir remalot!

p.s. captain morgan! I coulda been captain morgan! Fergot that one.