Whenever I go in the Captain's Cellar, the Captain always peers at me through a spyglass and bellows:
"Ahoy there, ye blasted landlubber! You are a sneaking puppy, and so are all those who will submit to be governed by laws which rich men have made for their own security; for the cowardly whelps have not the courage otherwise to defend what they get by knavery; but damn ye altogether: damn them for a pack of crafty rascals, and you, who serve them, for a parcel of hen-hearted numbskulls. They vilify us, the scoundrels do, when there is only this difference: They rob the poor under the cover of law, forsooth, and we plunder the rich under the protection of our own courage."
The Captain's parrot, who wears Full Service Dress Blue and operates the cash register with his beak, hurls a litany of colorful obscenities and antiquated insults at you as you buy your bottle of Canadian Club.
Okay, I'm totally making this up, I've actually never been in here, but this is really damn fine coffee.
No comments:
Post a Comment